Chapter 87
“He is the gift the world gave to me.”
“…”
As soon as the words fell, both inside and outside the TV, there was an uproar. It was obvious that the atmosphere became restless—seated below the stage were media personnel and other attendees, while on stage sat the heads of major corporations.
A middle-aged man beside Ye Yuyuan jokingly shook his head and said,
“Mr. Ye is getting married? If there’s no prenuptial agreement, Forbes might see a new billionaire beauty this year… Hahaha.”
“Getting married.”
Ye Yuyuan repeated the words softly, pausing for a moment.
Something flickered in his eyes before he quickly regained his composure.
The media wanted to press further, but since this was a technology forum—and given Ye Yuyuan’s expression—it was clear he had no intention of saying more. They had to stop while they were ahead.
Still, the revelation was already explosive enough.
*
“That was just… too much.” Joan stared at the TV, unable to hold back a sigh. “If I were a girl, I’d probably fall for him. His partner must be so touched right now.”
Fang Huai: “…”
Joan marveled at the moment for a while, then turned his head and nearly panicked.
“Fang, what’s wrong?”
Fang Huai had been looking down at flight tickets back to China. As he scrolled, his eyes gradually turned red.
He counted the days—three more months.
“I miss my lover.” He rubbed his nose, his words tumbling out, “I can’t bear this… I…”
Joan patted his shoulder. “I used to hate being apart from my girlfriend too—until I finished filming and came home to find her in bed with my best friend… Mm.”
Fang Huai: “…”
*
Meanwhile, the internet was buzzing with discussions about the event.
The forum hadn’t been broadcast live. The footage had been recorded earlier, but it was only released today. Before this, security around it had been extremely tight.
[Ye Yuyuan was already wearing that jade ring back in Heartbeat Signal! Could his partner actually be one of the guests from the show?]
[I’m so jealous.]
[This doesn’t make sense—Ye Yuyuan always looked like someone completely uninterested in romance. The way he acted today makes me think he’s been possessed. How can he be this affectionate??]
[I’M HERE. Are you telling me my ship is real???]
[If you’re talking about Ye Yuyuan x Fang Huai, just keep it as your own fantasy. It’s never happening. The government’s tightening restrictions again, and the same-sex marriage law is probably going to be scrapped. If Fang Huai still wants his career, he wouldn’t dare get involved in a real same-sex relationship.]
Some people eagerly began digging through old posts and public appearances, trying to find clues—from Ye Yuyuan’s past Weibo posts to various conferences he had attended. But in the end, they found nothing. Every possible trace had been wiped clean, leaving them with no evidence. Eventually, they had no choice but to give up.
*
The start date of The Song of the Nameless was drawing closer.
At first, Fang Huai struggled immensely—he genuinely couldn’t adjust. It was as if without Ye Yuyuan, he had forgotten how to live on his own.
Even though they video-called every night, Fang Huai always felt that an hour or two wasn’t nearly enough, yet there was no extra time. Ye Yuyuan was busy with work, and things weren’t easy on his end either.
Although Xu Tuanyuan had a good temper, he was a strict director—arguably even stricter than Lin Shengyun.
In this short period, Fang Huai was forced to grow rapidly under his guidance.
Two weeks passed, and as filming progressed to a new stage, they were given a free day to rest. Early that morning, Fang Huai received a call from Xu Tuanyuan, telling him he was taking him somewhere.
A worn-out residential building. A small iron door creaked open.
Inside, the cramped space was cluttered with all sorts of things—cigarette boxes, diaper packs, a yoga mat. The woman of the house, with curlers in her hair, was watching TV while coaxing a child. The man, past thirty, was slightly balding, a cigarette between his fingers, wearing an apron. He turned around:
“It’s me. What do you… Oh, Director Xu.”
His gaze swept over the doorway—only two people stood there. One was a warm-looking, chubby man, and the other, a tall, fair-skinned, handsome young man.
It was clear this wasn’t the first time he had met Xu Tuanyuan. He hesitated for a moment, then took off his apron and told his wife to make tea.
“Have a seat.”
Fang Huai looked at the man’s face and had a faint guess in his heart. Tomorrow is the first day of filming for Unnamed Melody—so why would Xu Tuanyuan bring me here today?
“Lin…”
“I’m Lin Lin.” The man rubbed his beer belly, giving Fang Huai a once-over. “And you are?”
So it really was Lin Lin.
Lin Lin was Lin Xiao’s younger brother. Lin Xiao had passed away ten years ago, and his brother Lin Lin had settled in the United States. By now, he must be around thirty.
“I’m Fang Huai. Nice to meet you.” Fang Huai, feeling a bit stiff, nodded politely.
“He’s the lead actor in The Song of the Nameless,” Xu Tuanyuan explained. “You might’ve seen the open casting news before.”
“Oh…” Lin Lin nodded absentmindedly, cigarette between his fingers, looking disinterested. “Sit down. Director Xu, and… Xiao Fang, what kind of tea do you want?”
Fang Huai glanced at him, then at the surroundings, before withdrawing his gaze.
Lin Lin looked like an ordinary middle-aged man with a growing waistline—just another face in the crowd, completely unremarkable. He was nothing like the passionate, reckless young man described in the files and the film script.
They sat down and chatted idly for a bit. At one point, Xu Tuanyuan stepped out to take a phone call.
Fang Huai and Lin Lin remained seated on the old couch. In the background, the woman of the house was chatting with a friend in another room. Lin Lin, still holding his cigarette, suddenly said:
“You’re playing my brother?” He tapped the cigarette against the ashtray, chuckled, and said,
“You won’t be able to do it.”
Fang Huai remained silent.
“I don’t understand what you mean.” He lifted his eyes to look at Lin Lin.
A flicker of mockery flashed through Lin Lin’s gaze. That fleeting expression, for a brief moment, revealed a glimpse of the real soul beneath his otherwise ordinary exterior.
He looked at the young man in front of him—fair skin, handsome features, clear light-colored eyes. It was hard to tell whether his innocence was real or just an act.
“Pampered, untouched by the real world… a young master.” Lin Lin chuckled. “Do you even know what kind of life my brother lived? He grew up being burned, beaten, and cursed. The things he endured—you wouldn’t even dare to imagine.”
“In school, he couldn’t even put his water bottle next to someone else’s. He had no friends—people thought he was disgusting, afraid he’d give them AIDS.” Lin Lin spoke with a light, almost casual tone. “Do you know what that feels like? No, of course you don’t.”
Fang Huai looked like someone who had always been well-liked and protected.
At that moment, Xu Tuanyuan returned. Lin Lin fell silent again, his earlier expression vanishing as he resumed his usual, unremarkable demeanor.
They chatted a little longer before taking their leave.
On the way back, Fang Huai was noticeably quieter than before.
He was deep in thought.
Xu Tuanyuan subtly observed his expression before lazily shifting his gaze away.
That night, Fang Huai didn’t sleep. The next morning, he still arrived at the set on time.
He asked Xu Tuanyuan a question: “Is our film meant to expose the darkness to the audience?”
Xu Tuanyuan looked at him, paused for a moment, then said, “Partly.”
Fang Huai pondered this, then nodded. He went to get his makeup done and change into costume, returning soon after for filming.
The entire day was inefficient, and progress was slow. Xu Tuanyuan was a patient director, but even he seemed a bit drained by the end—perhaps because they weren’t fully in sync yet. Fang Huai, along with some other supporting actors, wasn’t at his best.
But only Fang Huai knew that his poor condition wasn’t due to jet lag, as others assumed.
He didn’t know why.
The protagonist of The Song of the Nameless, Lin Xiao, had been subjected to the world’s worst cruelty from the very beginning—discrimination, bullying, prejudice.
He had opened his arms to the world, only to be stabbed from all directions, left battered and bruised. Just when his life seemed to be taking a turn for the better, he died for a reason so trivial, so absurd, that it felt like the universe itself was playing a cruel joke on him.
Fang Huai couldn’t understand what the point of such a film was, and because he didn’t understand, he couldn’t act it well. He had rarely thought about these things before, but now the question lingered in his mind, refusing to leave.
*
“I don’t really understand why,” Fang Huai murmured as he walked slowly down a foreign street, alone. A Bluetooth earpiece was tucked into his ear. “It just feels too…”
The setting sun bathed the entire square in golden light. White pigeons stepped forward one by one, while a child crouched in the middle of the square, feeding them.
“Hmm?” Ye Yuyuan’s deep voice flowed through the earpiece.
Fang Huai fell silent again.
It had been a long time now. He thought he was starting to get used to life without Ye Yuyuan.
But at this very moment, he missed him so much.
Whenever he tasted something delicious, he thought of Ye Yuyuan. Whenever he faced difficulties or uncertainties, he thought of him. Every minute and second that Ye Yuyuan wasn’t by his side felt like a loss, like something was missing from his life.
“I—”
Fang Huai hesitated, but in the end, he didn’t say it.
Ye Yuyuan was busy too. He had his own work and life. Even the most loving couple in the world had no reason to be together every single day, let alone when they were separated by such a great distance.
“It’s nothing. I love you.” He smiled at the receiver. “I’ll hang up now.”
Ye Yuyuan was silent for a moment before asking, “Huaihuai, what’s the date today?”
“The beginning of March… why?” Fang Huai was puzzled. “Is it a holiday? World Tree Planting Day?”
Ye Yuyuan: “…”
“You really don’t remember?”
The person on the other end of the line seemed to sigh softly, his voice husky, like warm breath brushing against Fang Huai’s ear.
Fang Huai touched his ear, suddenly tempted to check for flights back home again.
He wanted to see him.
The last rays of the setting sun slowly faded. A white pigeon suddenly flapped its wings and landed in Fang Huai’s palm. He cupped it carefully. It held an envelope in its beak, with a date written on it.
December 3rd.
The day they got together.
Fang Huai froze for a moment. Just then, a flurry of wings filled the air behind him—more white pigeons taking off, carrying with them the sound of the wind, the cheers and whistles of people around him.
Night had fully descended, and fireworks suddenly lit up the sky. The lights around the square flickered on one by one, encircling Fang Huai in a warm glow.
A realization dawned on him, and he turned around—only to have his vision gently covered by a pair of hands.
“Happy ninety-nine days,” a low voice murmured. “Huaihuai, I have a gift for you.”
“Wait a second,” Fang Huai suddenly said.
The man lowered his gaze, obsidian eyes reflecting the soft night. “Hmm?”
“Teacher Ye, can you kiss me first?” Fang Huai whispered. “I miss you so much I can’t take it anymore.”
