Chapter 46
“The jade pendant…”
“Is it this one?”
When Fang Huai said this, his expression was incredibly serious—there wasn’t the slightest hint of a joke. Behind him, the sky stretched out in a vast, gray expanse. His light amber eyes seemed to be covered in a thin mist, creating an inexplicably solemn atmosphere.
For a brief two or three seconds, Shi Feiran was almost convinced. Then, he slowly lowered his gaze and looked at the jade pendant.
It was a somewhat rough-looking piece. There were scratches on its surface. At first glance, it resembled mutton-fat jade, but it lacked the smooth, lustrous texture. It looked more like… one of those cheap trinkets sold at a roadside stall—three for ten yuan.
No, actually, even those cheap trinkets looked better than this.
Shi Feiran: “…”
The corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
“Not sure about the surname—history never mentioned it,” Shi Feiran said, waving a hand dismissively. “As for this jade pendant… it’s certainly unique. Do you like it?”
Fang Huai lowered his gaze and answered,
“He liked it.”
But he didn’t explain who he was.
Shi Feiran didn’t dwell on it. Now that they had settled business regarding the role, he had some time to discuss Fang Huai’s upcoming schedule.
“So far, we’ve locked in Young’s magazine cover and a luxury brand endorsement—still not signed yet. If you’re not interested, I can turn it down. Aside from that, when you return, there’s an album waiting for you. That’s your space to be creative.”
“I don’t dislike anything. It’s all fine.” Fang Huai shook his head.
He loved music. But over time, he had also come to understand the realities of the industry. With his current status—or, as Fang Jianguo had once put it, his current level of fame—he wasn’t yet at the stage where he could sustain himself purely by writing and singing songs, detached from the rest of the world.
Even if he didn’t mind, Shi Feiran, the team, and even Starlight Entertainment all relied on him to generate revenue.
By now, Fang Huai had a dedicated PR team. Back when Frost was still deciding on a composer, Shi Feiran, the team, and even his fans had handled the crisis management exceptionally well—hardly any information had leaked in the early stages.
But he didn’t have a personal assistant. Technically, he should have had one, but Fang Huai wasn’t used to being so close to someone all the time. Besides, his years of experience had taught him how to manage his own life. After discussing it with Shi Feiran, they decided not to assign him an assistant for the time being.
After giving his instructions, Shi Feiran sent him back. There were still a few final things to wrap up for the theme song.
When Fang Huai pushed open the door, he noticed that the atmosphere among the team was unusually quiet today. He didn’t understand why until he saw someone winking at Xiao Liu. The girl frantically shook her head at first, but then someone playfully nudged her forward.
Blushing furiously, she finally stood up and stammered, “F-Fang Huai, I have something to say to you. Could we…?”
“Sure.” Fang Huai felt completely lost but remained calm on the surface as he nodded.
The two of them walked to the corner of the hallway. Since Fang Huai had been working here recently, all security cameras in this area had been turned off to protect his privacy, so they didn’t have to worry about being seen.
“Did you see my letter?” Xiao Liu asked, staring at her toes. “I know you don’t like me, but I just thought… I…”
Fang Huai froze for a moment and said,
“I don’t dislike you.”
“Then do you like me?” Xiao Liu suddenly lifted her head to look at him.
“Mm.” Fang Huai nodded blankly. “I like you a lot.”
To him, liking was simply the opposite of disliking. In the short time he had spent with the team, he had found many of them to be good, likable people—
Or rather, he naturally preferred to see the good in people. He knew that Uncle Li deeply loved his daughter, that Xiao Wang was always humble and considerate, that Lao Zhang had great talent for lyric writing, and that Xiao Liu, though usually reserved, was a kind girl who always thought of others.
They were a truly wonderful group of people.
…So, he really liked them.
Hearing this, Xiao Liu, who had been tense, suddenly relaxed. A wave of disappointment surged in her heart, yet at the same time, she felt it was only natural—this was the outcome she had expected. She lowered her head and remained silent for a while before finally smiling and nodding.
“Thank you. I like you too.”
She gave Fang Huai a deep look.
She was an introverted girl and had experienced crushes before. But Fang Huai was the first person who gave her the courage to speak up—to take a chance.
She wasn’t pretty, perhaps even a little plain. She didn’t have any standout qualities. But when she was with Fang Huai, she realized something very clearly: he didn’t look down on her, nor would he ever hurt her. He wasn’t particularly warm in his interactions, but there was an undeniable purity in his heart—so soft that there wasn’t a single thorn in it.
Liking someone like this made her feel accepted, made her want to open up, to become better, to be braver.
And suddenly, she felt at peace.
“Let’s head back—Uncle Zhang is calling us for the final review.”
Fang Huai nodded.
Just as Xiao Liu was about to take a step, he hesitated, then quietly asked from behind her,
“I’m sorry… The ‘like’ you’re talking about… is it different from what I understand?”
He could feel it.
Just now, when she spoke to him, there was a light in her entire being. It was an indescribable feeling. He had never paid much attention to people’s appearances, but at that moment, he thought—Xiao Liu looked incredibly, incredibly beautiful.
And for some reason, he felt a bit envious.
A vague realization dawned on him—Xiao Liu was different from him.
Fang Huai had hazy memories of his childhood. He knew that Fang Jianguo was his grandfather, but he had never met his parents. From as far back as he could remember, Fang Jianguo had already been an unkempt and careless old man.
Yet, every year on the evening of the Qixi Festival, that same old man would set up a small table in the courtyard, pour two cups of wine, and sit alone under the moon, murmuring to himself.
“The homemade wine is gone, so this will have to do.”
“Old Dong went abroad to perform. Russia is really far… Oh, by the way, the little tunes we used to listen to are now called ‘national treasures.’ Funny, isn’t it?”
“That little rascal Fang Huai has grown up. I’m so old now, my face is full of wrinkles. You’d be scared to death if you saw me.”
“Yucheng, another year has passed.”
Every year around this time, Fang Jianguo would send Fang Huai off to play with the animals, watch a movie in the village, or do something else to keep him occupied.
One day, Fang Huai secretly came back early, only to see Fang Jianguo completely drunk, swaying slightly, laughing as he spoke, raising his cup to someone unknown.
In that moment, Fang Jianguo was glowing—just like Xiao Liu earlier.
Fang Huai snapped back to the present.
Xiao Liu had already calmed down, but when he asked that question, her face instantly turned red again.
“I-it’s just… liking!” she stammered. “Wanting to date, wanting to… kiss, and wanting to be together all the time—I’m guessing you don’t understand now, but when the time comes, you’ll… you’ll get it.”
Fang Huai saw how embarrassed she was and decided not to press further. Feeling a bit guilty, he simply said, “Okay, thank you. Shall we go back?”
And so, they returned.
It was the last day of work, and there wasn’t much left to do. Fang Huai had a lot on his mind, and by lunchtime, he couldn’t hold back anymore. He sent a message to Ye Yuyuan:
“Ye Yuyuan, this is Fang Huai. I want to ask you a question. It might be a bit presumptuous, is that okay?”
The reply came quickly: “Go ahead.”
“Do you have someone you like?”
“…”
Hundreds of kilometers away, the man’s grip on his fountain pen tightened abruptly, dragging a long ink streak across the paper as he signed his name.
Ye Yuyuan was silent for a moment before putting down the pen. Absentmindedly, he rubbed his cufflink, carefully typing a few words into the input box, only to purse his lips and delete them one by one.
Finally, he replied, “Yes.”
Fang Huai sat under the corridor. The sun was out now, and the warm, drowsy breeze of late summer carried the faint scent of osmanthus. He lowered his head, looking at the screen, pondering for a moment before typing:
“Is it…” He hesitated, recalling Xiao Liu’s words. “Wanting to date, wanting to kiss, and wanting to be together all the time?”
“…”
Ye Yuyuan fell into deep silence.
His expression remained calm, indifferent as always. But his back was tense, his posture rigid.
After a long pause, he slowly began to type his response—
“Yes.”
Fang Huai paused for a moment, picking up a piece of green bean with his chopsticks. He looked up at the vast, deep blue sky, feeling something indescribable stir within him. After a brief silence, he lowered his head and replied:
“I really envy you all.”
Xiao Liu, Fang Jianguo, Ye Yuyuan.
He still didn’t fully understand what Xiao Liu meant by “liking” someone. But having someone to like did seem like a truly fortunate thing.
They were glowing.
There was a long silence before the next reply came:
“It’s not something to be envied.”
It was nothing more than a one-man show—long, drawn-out, and destined to have no ending.
If the other person was willing to grant him some kindness, willing to walk alongside him for a little longer, then there would be a bit more sweetness and a little less bitterness.
But in the end, it would still be bitter.
Ye Yuyuan set down his phone. Outside the window, the sky was a deep blue, and the white wings of a bird were caught in the wind.
He was silent for a moment, the corner of his lips curving slightly—only to return to their usual calm expression moments later.
*
Fang Huai continued working in the afternoon.
But for some reason, as he revised lyrics and fine-tuned melodies, an image kept surfacing in his mind—an old man sitting alone in the courtyard, holding a cup of wine, calling out “Yucheng” over and over again.
And then, there was something Shi Feiran had mentioned before—that the character Lin Shuheng was based on a real person. That person had a close friend, and the family’s heirloom jade pendant had been left to that friend.
This day was incredibly significant for Fang Huai.
For the first time, he was fumbling to understand the concepts of “liking” and “romance.” And at the same time, memories that seemed to have long faded, buried in the corners of time, were suddenly stirred up by the wind—guiding him to look deeper.
But something still felt missing.
How to describe it…
Fang Huai wrote the two characters “Yucheng” on paper, then absentmindedly began copying down a verse from a poem.
“Like cutting and polishing, like carving and grinding—”
As he reached this point, a sudden realization struck him.
Fang Huai abruptly stood up!
“Fang Huai?” Someone nearby yawned, looking at him in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
Fang Huai’s fingertips curled slightly. After a brief moment, he spoke in a low voice:
“His name… His name was Lin Shuheng, courtesy name Yucheng.”
The person he had seen as a child.
The name Fang Jianguo always murmured when he was drunk…
He needed to find Director Lin Shengyun. He needed to see the full script of “Frost.”
*
Lin Shengyun set down the script, looking tired.
The actor standing in front of him was Guan Li, here to audition for the role of Lin Shuheng. He had already passed the assistant director’s round and was feeling confident, assuming the role was as good as his. But after meeting Lin Shengyun in person, he was rejected outright.
Guan Li had already been preparing to negotiate his payment. When he heard the verdict, he was completely dumbfounded.
Looking at Lin Shengyun’s unwavering expression, he began to tremble slightly.
“Fine,” Guan Li knew there was no changing the decision. He had lost all composure now. “I didn’t do my research, I didn’t analyze Lin Shuheng properly. But who the hell can go through that much material in one night?”
“Besides, do you have any idea how frustrating this character is? How difficult he is to play?” His voice rose in anger. “Mark my words—go outside and take a look. Do you really think you’ll find a more suitable actor than me?”
Lin Shengyun was just as irritated by Guan Li’s words.
He rubbed his temples but still maintained his politeness as he said, “Apologies, but this matter—”
“You’re all insane. Every single one of you. A bunch of garbage,” Guan Li sneered. “‘Frost’ is doomed to flop. With a role like this, you won’t even secure screening slots. And it’s clashing with ‘Chronicles of Spring and Autumn’? You might as well prepare to starve. A bunch of nobodies. ‘Frost’ is trash, too. Do you think you’re anything special? Trash, that’s all.”
Lin Shengyun: “……”
The old man was not one to be messed with. He shot up from his seat, pointing the script right at Guan Li’s nose. “Say that again?”
The two locked eyes. Guan Li was breathing heavily, the tension in the air thick and ready to snap.
“What if I find the right actor?” Lin Shengyun narrowed his eyes.
“Heh.” Guan Li let out a cold laugh.
And just then, there was a soft knock at the door.
“What is it?” Lin Shengyun snapped, still in a foul mood.
Outside stood a teenage boy, his nose slightly red, beads of sweat glistening at his temples as if he had run all the way there. He stared at Lin Shengyun in a daze before lowering his head and asking:
“Director Lin, I’m sorry… but can I take a look at the script?”
