Chapter 8
At 1:30 a.m., Meng Xueyuan wrapped up filming. Lu Xiao had stayed with him the entire time.
Lu Xiao didn’t have many scenes in the mountains—two days would be enough—while Meng Xueyuan would be staying another ten days. He really wanted to push aside all his personal work and just promote alongside Meng Xueyuan.
Too late. The jobs he’d already accepted couldn’t be canceled. He had to do a cameo in another drama for a few days, then rejoin this crew when it moved back to the urban portion.
Meng Xueyuan came out wrapped in his coat and said, “Why didn’t you go to sleep earlier?”
Lu Xiao said, “I co-invested in the film. I was worried the crew might pull some nonsense.”
Meng Xueyuan: “Probably not, right?”
Lu Xiao: “Didn’t that last bunch also look perfectly respectable?” Thankfully the scandal broke on the eve of shooting. Otherwise, just imagining Meng Xueyuan spending day and night with people like that—he would definitely have forced Meng Xueyuan to terminate the contract, and it might even have damaged their relationship.
Meng Xueyuan thought to himself that the entertainment industry was full of carefully constructed personas, easy to be fooled by, hard to judge people accurately. For now, the only one he truly trusted as a good person was Lu Xiao.
So he said sincerely, “Brother Lu, you really are a good person.”
A good-guy card out of nowhere?
Lu Xiao felt a tightness in his chest. He didn’t want to be a good person, but he didn’t dare be a bad one either. He turned and led the way back to the dorms. “Go to sleep early.”
Following behind, Meng Xueyuan let out a small sneeze. He hadn’t changed clothes after sweating and had gotten a bit chilled by the wind.
He needed to go back and drink some royal jelly. Royal jelly was crucial to a queen bee’s immunity—it ensured the queen wouldn’t get sick and could even extend their lifespan. Of course, for him as a human, the effects weren’t that miraculous.
When he was little, whenever he caught a chill, his dad would scrape his back with a cow bone, using a lot of force. It hurt a bit, but afterward his back would feel warm and incredibly comfortable.
Meng Xueyuan loved it. When he went out to work, he even brought along that cow bone, smooth as jade.
It was too late tonight—the assistant was already asleep. He’d ask the assistant to help tomorrow.
Meng Xueyuan stood in the washroom removing his makeup, wiping away a layer of foundation to reveal his naturally fair, tender skin—and the two red moles at the corners of his eyes.
He’d had them since birth. They were a sign used to identify the birth of a new queen bee—said to resemble bee antennae. On a human face, though, they were just ordinary red moles, at most a bit sensitive.
When he first entered the industry, his agent took him to audition for a campus idol drama, where he was to play a cold, aloof school heartthrob. The director said, “These two red moles are quite pretty, but they’re too bewitching. They don’t fit the character setting and will limit your future roles. Find a time to remove them.”
Meng Xueyuan’s identity as a queen bee wouldn’t disappear just because two moles were removed. He thought for three minutes, then told his agent, “Let’s go get them removed.”
Lin Mu took him to a beauty clinic and used laser removal. The moles were less than a millimeter in diameter—very simple, with no scarring.
He lay down on a bed covered with blue nonwoven fabric. Suddenly, the door of the cosmetic surgery room was flung open, and Lu Xiao burst in like a killing god. “Get up. Go back.”
Meng Xueyuan and his agent stared at each other, wide-eyed, like elementary school kids caught doing something wrong.
Lu Xiao: “Lin Mu.”
Lin Mu: “Yes.”
Lu Xiao: “I’ll make it clear today—his face, his entire body, not a single place is allowed to be touched.”
Lin Mu: “Understood.”
Later, Lin Mu said he was left with a bit of psychological trauma. He figured that in the future, even if Meng Xueyuan got sick, he wouldn’t dare take him to the hospital—he’d have to call Lu Xiao to bring him. Luckily, Meng Xueyuan didn’t get sick.
“That director had no eye for talent. Middle-aged men with a bit of power love to throw their weight around. Just cover it with foundation—it’s fine. You still need to keep those two spots to attract fans.”
Lu Xiao was right. Later on, when Meng Xueyuan occasionally went without makeup and showed off that little distinctive feature, fans would howl and scream that it was “sexy.”
……
After washing his face, Meng Xueyuan turned around and saw Lu Xiao standing in the living room, a set of pajamas draped over his arm. “Are you going to shower?”
The sink was in the middle; to get to the bathroom you had to pass this area. And the bathroom door was frosted glass, with about twenty centimeters of clear glass at the bottom.
Meng Xueyuan suddenly understood. Because he had been washing his face here, too close to the bathroom, Lu Xiao was worried about being peeked at while showering.
He quickly walked over to the sofa and wiped the water droplets from his face.
Lu Xiao’s gaze swept briefly between Meng Xueyuan’s eyes. “Mm.” Then he strode straight into the bathroom.
After applying a light moisturizer, Meng Xueyuan went into his room to get his pajamas and waited for Lu Xiao to come out.
The water pressure in this villa was pretty good—maybe there was a booster on the roof. Meng Xueyuan analyzed it very rationally. Otherwise, why would the sound of the water be so loud? It crashed down over Lu Xiao like a massage.
Back when they were in a group, they’d also lived together, but each had their own bathroom, far apart. Once they stepped out of their bedrooms, everyone was always fully dressed and presentable.
Now everything was silent, with only the sound of running water. The water noise drowned out any other sounds from the bathroom, to the point where it made one wonder if the faucet had been left on.
Was there really someone in the bathroom? Had Lu Xiao fainted? Should he check through the door to see if Lu Xiao was still standing?
Meng Xueyuan hurriedly took out his phone and searched: “How many years in prison for peeking at a coworker showering?”—using the law to deter improper thoughts.
Damn it. Simply peeking at someone showering didn’t even constitute a crime—only a public security penalty: detention of up to five days or a fine of up to five hundred.
Meng Xueyuan was shocked. He felt this was completely insufficient to compensate for the victim’s emotional distress.
The bathroom door opened, steam billowing out. Lu Xiao had only showered for a few minutes—just enough to warm the room—before coming out. “Your turn.”
Flustered, Meng Xueyuan put down his phone, didn’t look at Lu Xiao at all, grabbed his pajamas, and went into the bathroom.
Lu Xiao wiped his hair again and again. Lowering his eyes, he suddenly noticed the phone on the sofa, its screen still lit.
He wasn’t curious.
Meng Xueyuan had just been careless.
Lu Xiao glanced at it casually—and his pupils shrank.
[How many years for peeking at a coworker showering?]
Was this a preemptive move, left here as a warning to him?!
Had Meng Xueyuan noticed his reaction during the kissing scene and become wary of him?
Lu Xiao looked at the bizarre three-panel glass partition, and the agitation in his heart instantly cooled. He took out his phone and messaged Meng Xueyuan’s assistant, telling him to put privacy film on the doors tomorrow.
He couldn’t very well let a coworker shower in constant fear every time!
……
The next day at noon, after Meng Xueyuan wrapped up his scenes and came back, he found the assistant sticking large green privacy film on the two glass doors—bright green, very reassuring.
“What made you think of putting this up?”
“Brother Lu told me to.”
Meng Xueyuan froze for a moment, then squatted down to help smooth the film while thinking about the motive.
He and Lu Xiao were doing promotional appearances, kissing scenes, and even living together. If they were artists with stronger emotional needs, they might already have become a “drama-set couple.”
Lu Xiao was deliberately keeping his distance so things wouldn’t feel awkward off set. He was only staying three nights—his precautions were airtight.
The phone vibrated. Meng Xueyuan answered; it was Lin Mu.
“Yesterday a married-couples reality show contacted us. One pair of guests had a scheduling conflict and couldn’t make it, so they want to invite you and Lu Xiao.”
Meng Xueyuan: “Is it Harmony in Marriage? They only invite couples who’ve registered their marriage.”
Lin Mu: “They changed the format last episode. They added one pair of ‘trainee couples’—learning how senior couples manage their marriage, evaluating marriage from an unmarried perspective.”
Who would’ve thought that couple reality shows could become so popular? Even the unmarried wanted a piece of that heat. Fine—just slap on the label ‘trainee.’
Meng Xueyuan: “What about Lu Xiao?”
Lin Mu: “Lu Xiao’s side is free.” It was even Lu Xiao’s agent who recommended it.
Meng Xueyuan: “Do I have the schedule?”
Lin Mu: “Trainee couples only need to sign for two episodes. After you finish the mountain portion of this film and move to the city setting, there’s a one-week break—perfect for filming the first episode. After the movie wraps, you film the second episode. The pay’s pretty good.”
Meng Xueyuan agreed immediately. “Okay.”
Oh—fake husbands going to observe real married couples.
He’d watched Harmony in Marriage a few times. There were lots of daily-life segments: cooking together, grocery shopping together, hiking together, game competitions together—far more physical contact than a kissing scene.
Kissing him hadn’t really attracted Lu Xiao’s… soul? There was a bit of physical attraction, but not much. Lu Xiao’s self-control was very strong; to him, it was just a minor inconvenience of acting.
Meng Xueyuan rubbed the bridge of his nose. Maybe he just wasn’t used to the local climate—he felt particularly sensitive to the cold here. He said to the assistant, “Come up at eight tonight and help me with gua sha.”
The assistant lived on the first floor. Meng Xueyuan was diligent and handled his own living hygiene neatly and methodically; the assistant rarely came up to the second floor.
Assistant: “Okay. Oh right, there’s a package for you on the table.”
One look at the cold-chain packaging and Meng Xueyuan guessed it was royal jelly sent from home—only fresh ones had active properties. It was good stuff, but ordinary people weren’t suited to eating it, so he couldn’t give any to Lu Xiao.
That afternoon he and Lu Xiao had a hand-holding scene to shoot—the little mountain god leading his CEO through the forested hills.
The crew hired a cook to make big communal meals. After Meng Xueyuan went down to eat, the director grabbed him to talk about the scene as soon as he finished.
Director Jiang Lang had watched Meng Xueyuan’s previous works and noticed that he mostly played cold, aloof characters. Since joining the crew, he hadn’t seen Meng Xueyuan smile, and was a bit worried.
“When Lu Xiao’s holding your hand and you’re walking behind him, you need to show an innocent, radiant smile. This is the moment in the whole film where you smile the best. Smile—can you do it? Are the nerves at the corners of your mouth still alive? Like this.”
Jiang Lang put on a demonstration smile, but limited by his looks, he resembled a goofy fool.
Meng Xueyuan answered honestly, “I can’t smile like that.”
Jiang Lang grew even more worried—until he saw through the camera lens Meng Xueyuan following behind Lu Xiao, brows and eyes curved in a bright smile, innocent and beautiful. The mountains and rivers lost all color in comparison. The shot was god-tier.
A man pushing forty teaching a young couple how to smile—wasn’t that a bit self-destructive?
After the director called a cut, Lu Xiao turned his head to take a look and happened to catch Meng Xueyuan’s smile before it had faded. His heart softened.
Meng Xueyuan’s hand was soft too—only his fingertips were slightly cool. He must have caught a chill last night.
Lu Xiao was fairly satisfied with the villa his agent had arranged, except for one thing: there were a lot of mosquitoes in the mountains. The anti-mosquito screens hadn’t been shut tightly, so some had gotten in. He’d already killed two, but he didn’t know whether Meng Xueyuan had been bitten.
He needed to take care of that before leaving.
Thinking of something, Lu Xiao immediately headed out.
After changing clothes, Meng Xueyuan looked around but didn’t see Lu Xiao. They had wrapped up at the same time today—they could’ve gone back together, like students after class.
“Have you seen Lu Xiao?” Meng Xueyuan asked a crew member.
“Seems like he went outside,” the crew member replied.
“Oh.”
Meng Xueyuan went back by himself, took a shower, then rummaged through his suitcase for the ox-bone scraping board he used for gua sha. He tapped it against his palm twice, then went looking for medicated oil.
Scraping directly was too dry—it would chafe the skin. You had to add some medicated oil for lubrication. Super comfortable.
He found an empty bottle.
Just then, the assistant came upstairs. Meng Xueyuan said apologetically, “Could you help me go to the village clinic and buy a bottle?”
The assistant was surprised too. He hadn’t expected a star of Meng Xueyuan’s caliber to skip fancy essential oils and, like everyone else, rely on all-purpose medicated oil—one bottle for headaches, colds, drowsiness, and mosquito repellent. “I’ve got some. I’ll go get it.”
“Okay, thank you.”
Figuring the assistant would be back soon, Meng Xueyuan lay face-down on the bed to wait.
Footsteps came up the stairs, then drew closer.
He thought of his parents—both farmers, chasing flowering seasons all their lives to raise bees. Their palms were extremely rough, thick with calluses. When he was little and they scrubbed his back, it worked even better than the ox-bone board.
He’d call them later.
Meng Xueyuan reached back with one hand, grabbed the hem of his pajama top, and pulled it up, bunching it around his shoulders. His snow-white back was smooth and graceful; his lower body was covered by a silk quilt, half of a waist hollow faintly visible.
“All right, you can start.”
Lu Xiao, holding the medicated oil he’d intercepted from the assistant, said nothing. He straddled over Meng Xueyuan with one leg and knelt on the bed, twisting open the cap of the small green bottle.
The cool oil dripped onto Meng Xueyuan’s back. He shivered slightly, like a soft white sugar bun just out of the steamer collapsing a little when it met cold air. The quilt slid down a bit, making the hollow of his waist even more obvious.
The ox-bone scraper landed on his back, scraping once from the left shoulder down toward the waist hollow.
Meng Xueyuan’s skin was delicate and flushed easily; a patch of rosy red bloomed immediately.
Lu Xiao instantly didn’t dare to use much force.
Feeling the light touch, Meng Xueyuan knew it wouldn’t achieve the hot, invigorating effect he wanted. He couldn’t help saying, “That’s too light. Don’t you have any strength? Do you want to eat something?”
Lu Xiao: “…” His nose felt a little hot.
Lu Xiao added some force and scraped the right side once. Now the entire back was pink.
Meng Xueyuan still frowned. “Your strength feels kind of weak.”
Lu Xiao’s temples throbbed.
Concerned, Meng Xueyuan asked, “Do you want to eat some Chinese yam?” We grow some at home—
“Stop talking. You’ve caught such a deep chill—why not just go get an injection?”
Using a tool, how could he really control the strength? He was afraid that if he pressed too hard, Meng Xueyuan would lose a layer of skin—yet he was still getting mocked.
Might as well use his hands directly.
Lu Xiao tossed aside the ox-bone board and pressed his callused hands onto the unguarded back, rubbing twice in retaliatory fashion.
