Chapter 101
The Orlanto campaign shoot was finished, and the images were sent for retouching. The teaser was released early—officially posted by Orlanto’s own account. Fang Huai shared it with little fanfare.
Orlanto China V: “He arrived with summer.” @Fang Huai V [Image]
Shi Feiran let out a deep sigh of relief when he saw that the teaser had chosen a solo shot of Fang Huai instead of a photo with Ye Yuyuan.
The image featured Fang Huai half-reclining on a pile of old books, dozing off. A book rested over his forehead, and the jade earring on his earlobe reflected a soft glow.
As soon as the official announcement dropped, the internet exploded.
[??? Wasn’t he supposed to be blacklisted??? Why hasn’t this druggie been arrested yet?]
[The first Chinese spokesperson for Orlanto? That’s actually insane.]
[SO HANDSOME AAAAAAHHHH I’M DEAD.]
[I excitedly clicked in, then checked the price. Sorry for bothering you.]
[The craziest thing about Orlanto isn’t even the price. It’s that you might not be able to buy it even if you have money…]
On the surface, the domestic entertainment industry seemed calm, but those inside knew the undercurrents were strong. Due to recent content regulations, a wave of films and web series had been abruptly pulled or replaced. Everyone was treading cautiously, doing their best to avoid trouble.
No one had explicitly spoken out yet—not even many who were already halfway out of the closet.
The Orlanto situation caused a small ripple, but since the official campaign had yet to be released, the impact remained contained within a limited circle.
What drew even more attention was the announcement of this year’s Oscar nominations.
In recent years, the Oscars had undergone several changes—one of the biggest being the submission period for films, which was now from July to the following July, with the awards ceremony moved to September. Song of the Nameless had been released overseas in May, just barely making the cutoff.
Many speculated that Oscar favorite, director Xu Tuanyuan, might take a major hit this year for choosing Fang Huai as the lead. But the results were completely unexpected.
At the end of June, the nomination list was announced—Song of the Nameless received nine nominations, including heavyweight categories like Best Director.
The biggest shock, however, was that Song of the Nameless… also scored a nomination for Best Actor.
Among all domestic predictions, Fang Huai was considered the least likely candidate to win. But that didn’t change the fact that Song of the Nameless was his first-ever leading role, and he had filmed it at just eighteen years old—making him one of the youngest nominees in Oscar history.
International reception was somewhat different from the domestic reaction.
Song of the Nameless had already been released in the UK, where it was performing well both at the box office and critically. Many audiences were captivated by this unfamiliar Chinese actor. As the birthplace of Shakespeare, the UK had a thriving theater scene, and the two months of stage training Fang Huai underwent before filming had served him well.
Beyond that, Fang Huai’s acting carried less of the polished, formulaic feel of many established actors, making his performance refreshing. The film’s subject matter was also well-aligned with the Oscars’ preferences.
That said, his competitors were all incredibly strong—including one actor who had been nominated four times previously and was determined to win this year. No one truly believed that Fang Huai would take home the Oscar on his first nomination.
Regardless, after briefly fading from public view, the name Fang Huai was once again at the center of conversation.
Fang Huai, however, had no time to pay attention to any of it—he had been busy lately.
He was preparing for his proposal. The Oscars would be in September, and whether or not he won… he was going to propose to Ye Yuyuan afterward.
That meant there was a lot to plan.
The proposal needed to be designed. He wanted to write all the wedding songs himself, film a proposal video, choose the perfect ring—every day, Fang Huai was searching for proposal ideas, contacting professional planners, and keeping it all a secret from Ye Yuyuan. He was so busy he lost weight in just a blink of an eye.
But he was happy. He loved this kind of busyness, as long as it had to do with Ye Yuyuan.
He wanted to give Ye Yuyuan a home. And give himself one, too.
Since he couldn’t tell Ye Yuyuan about the proposal, Fang Huai had to turn to others for help. His contact with Duan Yang, Feng Lang, and Yin Wanyue had increased dramatically.
Luckily, Ye Yuyuan also seemed to be busy with something lately, so he hadn’t noticed anything unusual about Fang Huai.
But besides all this, Fang Huai had started dreaming more frequently.
The dreams weren’t continuous—just scattered fragments. Sometimes, he was a child again, sleeping in his old house. Other times, he was deep underwater, being pulled up from an abyss.
A recurring figure in his dreams was the creature he had once seen at the back-mountain lake—silver scales, vertical pupils—something resembling the dragons described in books.
*
“I want to ask you something,” Feng Lang said, twirling his phone between his fingers.
“Hmm?” Fang Huai was staring at the rings in the display case, imagining how they would look on Ye Yuyuan’s finger.
“When you first arrived in Nan City, when you stepped off the train,” Feng Lang hesitated, lowering his voice. “You didn’t really like it here, did you?”
Fang Huai was taken aback.
It had only been a year, yet it felt like a lifetime ago. After a long pause, he finally said, “No, I didn’t.”
“And now?”
“…”
And now?
Fang Huai watched as the sales associate approached, slowly thinking about the question.
But Feng Lang didn’t press further.
The sales associate began explaining the rings, and Fang Huai listened attentively.
“Huahuai,” Feng Lang leaned lazily against the counter, casually glancing at a row of diamond rings. Then, with a sly smile, he asked, “Have you ever considered this possibility?”
Fang Huai was deeply focused on the design concepts of two rings, even taking notes while listening. Duan Yang and Yin Wanyue were sitting on the sofa, engrossed in a game of Honor of Kings, while Lin Huan hugged a sundae cup and watched them play.
Everyone happened to have free time lately, so they decided to meet up, hang out, and help Fang Huai plan his proposal. Ye Yuyuan wasn’t here—apparently, he had something else to do.
“Hmm?” Fang Huai finally looked away from a diamond the size of a pigeon’s egg—he figured Ye Yuyuan wouldn’t like something that flashy. “What possibility?”
“What if… he’s also planning to propose?”
Feng Lang spread his fingers apart, miming a collision. “You’re both getting ready to propose. What if you crash into each other?”
Fang Huai: “…???”
“No way.”
He was a little stunned. This possibility had never even crossed his mind. But there was no way, right? That would be way too much of a coincidence.
“Zai Zai!” Yin Wanyue called from the sofa. “What do you want to drink? We’re ordering milk tea!”
Fang Huai’s train of thought was completely derailed. He didn’t dwell on the idea any longer.
Yin Wanyue and Feng Lang knew how to have fun. They spent most of the day playing around, and when they got tired, they helped Fang Huai brainstorm ideas.
“Isn’t the Oscars happening next month?” Yin Wanyue said. “If you win the golden statue—”
“No, no, no, that’s too flashy,” Lin Huan disagreed. “I think you should arrange heart-shaped candles on the first floor of your house, and then—”
Feng Lang: “Hahaha.”
Duan Yang: “…”
Fang Huai’s pen paused mid-note. He looked a little lost. “Really?”
Feng Lang, Duan Yang, and Yin Wanyue all immediately said in unison, “No, no, no, no, no!”
Five minutes later—
“Ngo hou zung yi nei, tung ngo git fun hou mm hou?” Yin Wanyue attempted Cantonese. Then, after some thought, she switched to a Taiwanese accent, “Ngo hou suan ni, jia gei wo la!“
Somehow, that sentence hit everyone’s funny bone.
Without any warning, they all burst into uncontrollable laughter.
Everyone was laughing for different reasons—Lin Huan and Feng Lang were picturing Ye Yuyuan with a poker face in an off-shoulder wedding dress, Duan Yang thought of a meme he saw on Weibo the day before, and Yin Wanyue simply cracked herself up.
As for Fang Huai, he laughed purely because they were laughing.
The café had already been cleared out, so there was no need to worry about disturbing anyone. Time passed in a peaceful, unhurried way, as if the clock itself was being slowed by an unseen hand.
By evening, Ye Yuyuan had finished work and came to pick Fang Huai up.
Feng Lang and Duan Yang said their goodbyes from behind him, each heading off to their own plans for the night. They waved with smiles, parting in different directions.
But Fang Huai remembered everything about that day—the joke Yin Wanyue told, the sundae Lin Huan was holding, the question Feng Lang had asked, the way Duan Yang yawned.
The sounds and colors weren’t perfectly clear, a little like a recording with soft static in the background, but just like the fleeting beauty of everyday life, they were something to cherish.
Fang Huai closed his eyes, listening to the evening breeze brush past his ears. After a moment, he slowly opened them again.
Ye Yuyuan stood not far away.
The streetlights cast a gentle glow over his shoulders, silent and warm, blending into the golden hues of dusk. Among all the lights illuminating the city, he was the one that belonged solely to Fang Huai.
Suddenly, the answer was clear.
I love it.
Fang Huai told himself.
He loved this place, loved his friends, loved his life.
And he loved his Ye Yuyuan.
That night.
Fang Huai carefully took out Lin Shuheng’s notebook from the cabinet.
It felt as though fate had whispered something to him, carried by the wind scented with osmanthus in this early August evening, softly telling him—it’s time.
All those times before, he had stopped at the title page, as if something was holding him back, preventing him from turning further.
—The thing Lin Shuheng wanted to tell him.
But…
Fang Huai still didn’t open it immediately. Wearing protective gloves, he hesitated, then closed the notebook, took off the gloves, and wandered into the study.
Ye Yuyuan’s study was right next door. It was a small converted room, and Fang Huai always felt like the space wasn’t big enough.
It sounded like Ye Yuyuan was on the phone with someone. Fang Huai had no intention of eavesdropping on his lover’s private conversation, but before he could step back, he heard a few vague words through the crack in the door.
“No need for roses, he doesn’t like them… Hmm, fireworks?”
Fang Huai: “…”
He was stunned.
Could it be that Feng Lang was right? Was Ye Yuyuan also planning to propose to him?!
*
Five minutes later.
“Mr. Ye,” Fang Huai walked into the study, holding a cup of milk. “It’s late. Are you going to sleep?”
Ye Yuyuan took off his gold-rimmed glasses—he didn’t actually need them, but ever since Fang Huai had complimented him while wearing them, his usage had skyrocketed. He pulled Fang Huai into his arms and kissed the soft hair on the boy’s crown.
“Just a moment.”
Bedtime was a special time—it was the one time they could be as close as they wanted. Usually, even a small kiss would make Fang Huai blush, but before bed, it was allowed.
The screen in front of Ye Yuyuan scrolled with messages. He was a fast reader—every day, he had too much to handle in too little time, and every minute was used efficiently.
“I have a question,” Fang Huai said while looking at the screen.
“Hmm?”
“What kind of event,” Fang Huai asked awkwardly, slowly, “would require roses and fireworks?”
Ye Yuyuan: “…”
Fang Huai: “…”
Ye Yuyuan: “…”
“The company’s anniversary celebration,” Ye Yuyuan responded quickly, his tone calm. “Ptah’s fourth anniversary. Also, an award ceremony for Ms. Li from the R&D department to thank her for her contributions. She doesn’t like roses.”
Even Ye Yuyuan himself didn’t realize how quickly he had strung together all those sentences—at a rather unhurried pace, no less.
And yet… Ptah’s R&D department didn’t even have a female employee.
Fang Huai let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, I see.”
Ye Yuyuan also let out a breath. “Yes.”
“Oh, right,” Fang Huai finally remembered his original purpose. “I want to read what Mr. Lin wrote for me tonight. I feel like… now, I’m ready.”
He finally had the courage to face everything that came after. He was ready to listen humbly to the guidance and teachings of the past generation.
He was going to keep living here—no longer avoiding anything.
“Mm.” Ye Yuyuan wasn’t surprised. He paused briefly and asked, “Do you need me there?”
Those words were meant for Fang Huai. Ye Yuyuan wasn’t sure if he should be present.
*
Five minutes later.
“He was an open-minded man,” Fang Huai said seriously. “I don’t think he would mind.”
To Fang Huai, lovers didn’t need to be glued together every second of the day. They needed their own privacy. But they also needed to be there for each other through every significant moment in life.
Like now.
Ye Yuyuan didn’t reply.
His gaze shifted toward the floor-to-ceiling window. Fang Huai couldn’t see it, but an old man was standing there, leaning on a cane, smiling at the two of them.
Ye Yuyuan gave a slight bow in greeting. The old man lifted his cane and knocked it lightly against Fang Huai’s head. “Idiot.”
Fang Huai: “?”
Ye Yuyuan frowned: “…”
The next second—
Fang Huai’s phone suddenly rang. It was Shi Feiran. “Fang Huai, about the Oscars—”
Already in a state of nervous anticipation, the sudden interruption startled him. His hand trembled, accidentally knocking the notebook off the table.
As it slid, the pages flipped open—landing precisely on the one labeled For Fang Huai.
The first line of words came into view…
“Kid, long time no see—”
A brilliant white light flared.
The summer night wind suddenly turned scorching, the faint scent of osmanthus thickened into a rich, intoxicating fragrance, and the flow of the sun, moon, and stars seemed to accelerate.
Fang Huai heard the sound of the wind. Amidst this strange and wondrous sensation, his consciousness gradually slipped away.
