Chapter 53
Not far away—
Li Yunyun, Fang Huai’s assistant, widened her eyes in shock. A second later, she regained her senses and hastily covered her mouth, suppressing any sound from escaping.
If she wasn’t mistaken, that was…
The abandoned house’s eaves were lined with moss, and a white-winged bird perched under the overhang. From her angle, she could only see Fang Huai’s elegant, pale jawline trailing down to his collarbone. And that tall, silent man—bowing his head, eyes lowered—was…
Kissing him.
It was definitely a kiss.
It looked like a forehead kiss, but it was absolutely not the kind of affectionate gesture a senior would give a junior, nor a playful peck between friends. No matter who saw this scene, they would come to the same conclusion.
Ye Yuyuan liked Fang Huai.
The girl watching was utterly stunned. She hadn’t spent much time with Fang Huai—maybe three days since joining the team—but even she couldn’t say with absolute certainty that she had no special feelings toward him.
Of course, an assistant shouldn’t harbor inappropriate thoughts about her boss. She had always been professional in her previous jobs.
But with Fang Huai, it was difficult.
Liking him was just… too easy.
But Ye Yuyuan liked him?
Li Yunyun’s mind was in chaos as she struggled to process this revelation. Just then, the man who had been leaning forward slowly straightened. Whether it was intentional or not, his indifferent gaze swept across her direction. The look alone sent a shiver down her spine.
Ye Yuyuan quickly averted his gaze.
His eyes flickered toward the sketchbook lying open at Fang Huai’s feet. The pages fluttered as if touched by an invisible force, turning over before finally closing.
At this moment, Fang Huai, still puzzled, asked again, “Ye Yuyuan? Is something wrong?”
Ye Yuyuan lowered his hand from Fang Huai’s eyes, cleared his throat, and murmured, “Sorry.”
Fang Huai shook his head. “It’s okay. Next time, if something’s wrong,” he hesitated briefly before continuing, “just tell me, alright?”
Then, as if sensing the tension, he added considerately, “If there’s something you don’t want me to see, I won’t look.”
“Why?” The man’s gaze lingered on him for a long moment before he suddenly asked.
Fang Huai blinked in surprise.
His light amber eyes reflected the sky. He seemed genuinely confused by Ye Yuyuan’s question, rubbing his nose absentmindedly before answering:
“Because we’re friends, aren’t we?”
Friends.
It was a good word. It represented a certain level of closeness—fondness, trust, the willingness to share personal space.
Ye Yuyuan repeated the word in his mind, silent for a long time. Then, fleetingly, the corners of his lips lifted in the barest hint of a smile.
It was gone in an instant, his expression soon returning to calm indifference, as if nothing had ever happened.
He said in a calm voice,
“Mm.”
But his left hand, hidden behind him, curled slightly tighter.
“I have to go film in a bit,” Fang Huai tilted his head up, looking at him for a moment. After a slight hesitation, he asked, “Do you…”
“Hm?”
“Want to come watch?”
Fang Huai actually felt a little embarrassed. This was what they called a set visit, right? He had been on set for a few days and had seen other actors’ friends or fans coming to visit. Sometimes, he envied that feeling.
In a busy, unfamiliar environment, having someone you know—someone you like—waiting for you, staying by your side.
But then, he remembered his previous poor performances. Thinking about it, he started to regret asking.
“Never mind, maybe next time—”
Before he could finish, Ye Yuyuan had already agreed without hesitation.
“Okay.”
Fang Huai: “…”
Fang Huai immediately felt even more flustered, like he had unknowingly dug himself a hole and jumped straight in—only for the dirt to be thrown over him before he could react.
And… he had no idea how well he was going to perform later.
This was his last chance.
Fang Huai wasn’t slow; he could sense the attitudes of the people around him and Lin Shengyun’s intentions. If he didn’t do well this time, the scene would be cut.
Just then—
Ye Yuyuan lowered his gaze and reached out to fix the slightly disheveled collar of Fang Huai’s shirt. He neatly buttoned up the top button that had come undone when Fang Huai ran over.
His movements were steady and familiar, but if one looked closely, they would see that the tips of his ears were slightly red.
“I’m looking forward to it,” he said.
“I might not do well,” Fang Huai didn’t reject the slightly intimate gesture. He smiled, speaking honestly, “Don’t expect too much. I don’t want to disappoint you.”
“You won’t.”—As long as it’s you.
Ye Yuyuan glanced at him, his expression giving nothing away, but his tone was unwavering.
He didn’t add any comforting words like “It’s okay if you mess up” or “Don’t worry about failing.” He simply believed in him—completely, unconditionally, and even without reason.
And surprisingly, instead of feeling pressured by such trust, Fang Huai felt something entirely different.
It felt as if his heart had been placed in a gentle breeze, slowly rising with the late summer air.
Fang Huai looked at him for a long time. After a brief pause, he nodded seriously and said, “Alright.”
A crew member called Fang Huai over to get his makeup touched up and prepare for his scene. He took a couple of steps forward, but after walking a few meters, he suddenly halted.
Then, as if realizing something, he turned abruptly and ran back to Ye Yuyuan.
His nose was slightly red, sweat glistened on his forehead, and his eyes were as clear as ever.
“Ye Yuyuan, I want to ask you a question.”
Ye Yuyuan nodded. “Go ahead.”
“If—” Fang Huai was still slightly out of breath from running, but his tone was serious. “If the person you like was standing right in front of you, what would you say to them?”
Just now, looking at Ye Yuyuan, he suddenly understood what liking meant.
But it still felt like he was missing something—just a little bit more…
What did it mean to want to love but not dare to?
Ye Yuyuan froze.
His deep black eyes locked onto Fang Huai, his gaze unwavering. Behind him, the sky stretched vast and blue, bathed in sunlight, and the wind brushed softly past his ears.
Only the sound of their heartbeats and breaths filled the space between them.
For a fleeting moment, Fang Huai inexplicably felt that Ye Yuyuan looked… solemn, even a little nervous. He was staring at him, his eyes filled with nothing but the image of the boy before him. His lips were pressed tightly together.
Then, after a long moment, he finally spoke in a low voice, “I… I would wait for you.”
No matter how long, no matter how far the journey, no matter how much time passed.
Whether they were still young or had grown old and gray.
He would wait—
Wait until Fang Huai had seen all the places he wanted to see, walked all the roads he wanted to walk. Wait until he had met all the people he wished to know, traveled through all the romantic destinations he longed for. Wait until he was tired, until he wanted to stop and rest.
Wait until he turned back.
Just to look.
He was nothing but an ordinary, dull man, skilled only in the art of waiting.
All he wanted to tell Fang Huai was that he could move forward fearlessly, chasing after whatever he wanted without hesitation. He didn’t need to worry about turning back and finding no place to return to.
Because someone would always be waiting for him.
Fang Huai stared at him in a daze.
It felt like a storm had suddenly swept through his mind, stirring up everything all at once. In a flash, it all rushed to the surface.
And in that instant—clarity struck him.
All the blurred, uncertain images in his mind came into sharp focus.
“I understand now,” he murmured. “So that’s what it is… Thank you.”
Then, as if waking from a trance, he added seriously, “Ye Yuyuan, I have to go now, but you have to come watch me later.”
“You promised me!”
A hint of amusement flickered in Ye Yuyuan’s eyes. He nodded. “Mm.”
Fang Huai’s smile grew more radiant.
Then, standing on tiptoe slightly, he gave Ye Yuyuan a firm hug before dashing off.
The wind swept beneath the hem of his white shirt as he ran, his figure clean and bright—like a bird taking flight, soaring into the breeze.
As he passed the edge of the roof, he finally noticed Li Yunyun standing off to the side. He blinked in surprise before offering her a friendly smile and greeting her.
Li Yunyun, caught off guard, quickly responded, though her mind was in turmoil. She was about to follow Fang Huai when her steps faltered.
She couldn’t help but turn back, glancing at the man still standing silently beneath the eaves.
His black obsidian cufflinks caught a sliver of light, enhancing the cool elegance of his demeanor. He was tall, handsome, and reserved—the kind of person who should have countless admirers chasing after him. And yet, for some reason, standing there now, he gave off an aura that made people hesitate to approach, even feel an inexplicable sense of dread.
His gaze swept over her emotionlessly, lingering for a brief moment before he spoke two simple words, “The photos.”
A cold sweat instantly broke out on Li Yunyun’s back.
When Li Yunyun had just seen Ye Yuyuan lower his head and ‘kiss’ Fang Huai, she instinctively snapped a photo. She hadn’t had the chance to delete it yet. She thought she had been discreet, but she had still been caught.
“I’m really sorry.” She lowered her head, quickly operating her phone, and said in a small voice, “I’ve granted full permissions. You can have your AI delete the photos from both cloud storage and local storage.”
Ye Yuyuan gave a faint hum in response. After a brief pause, he said, “You’re his assistant. You’re the closest person to him.”
His words carried a deeper meaning.
An assistant had the most opportunity to cause trouble. She could only be Fang Huai’s support, never his weakness—let alone a weapon for others to use against him, a handle for manipulation. This was a warning. But beyond that, there seemed to be an even deeper implication.
Li Yunyun silently repeated his words in her mind, unable to suppress a slight feeling of unease.
Ye Yuyuan didn’t say anything more. He gave her a slight nod before turning to leave.
In his micro Bluetooth earpiece, the AI’s voice chimed in: “Would you like to keep a backup of the photos on your device?”
“No.”
He lowered his gaze, as if engaged in a fierce internal struggle.
After a moment, with some difficulty, he changed his mind.
“Forget it. Keep them.”
“Encryption level: four stars. Locking with a private key.”
Even if it was impossible, he selfishly wanted… to keep a memory for himself.
His life was long.
If he didn’t even have this, he wasn’t sure how he would endure the tens of thousands of long, empty days and nights ahead.
*
“Do your best.”
Lin Shengyun gave Fang Huai one last run-through of the scene. After hesitating for a moment, he uncharacteristically didn’t offer any sharp words. Instead, he simply patted Fang Huai’s shoulder. “Good luck.”
Fang Huai was still going over his lines one last time.
He already knew them by heart, but as he reread those familiar words now, an inexplicable surge of emotion welled up in his chest, overwhelming and powerful.
In that moment, he felt an unprecedented certainty—
This time… he would succeed.
But to those watching, it didn’t look that way at all.
All they saw was Fang Huai pressing his lips tightly together, looking tense, muttering his lines under his breath, seemingly in poor form.
Lin Shengyun stepped aside. The assistant director gave him a slightly sympathetic look. “He’s really trying. Should we give him one more chance after this?”
Lin Shengyun waved his hand dismissively. “If he can’t do it now, it’s over.”
Meanwhile, Liang Tao’s assistant, who was standing nearby, was still grumbling—
“I don’t know what kind of shady connections got him here, but now Brother Tao has to suffer through this mess with him… Tsk.”
“Forget it, this is the last time.” Liang Tao waved his hand impatiently.
Time ticked by, second by second.
Fang Huai took a deep breath and settled into his position. Liang Tao adjusted his clothes and walked to his designated spot. Multiple cameras started rolling at once, and the viewfinder zoomed in on a close-up of Fang Huai’s eyes.
Lin Shengyun straightened slightly, clapped the slate, and said in a low voice:
—”Action.”
