After the show ended, Xiao Bai stared at Chen Fei’s back and silently calculated that this made the third payment Director Chen owed him.
The way Xiao Bai was staring made Chen Fei’s skin crawl. Unable to stand it, he took the initiative and walked over. “Relax. Your salary will be paid at the end of the month.” After saying that, he could not help thinking awkwardly, I’m not the station director or the head of finance. Why does Xiao Bai always act like I’m personally responsible for paying his salary?
The dark cloud hanging over Xiao Bai’s face immediately disappeared, replaced by a radiant smile.
Chen Fei’s mood lifted along with that smile, but he deliberately kept a stern expression. “All right. We’re done here, so go home early. It’s already after midnight.”
“Mm.”
Xiao Bai happily turned around, only for Zhong Yao to suddenly sling an arm around his shoulders. “Xiao Bai, Xiao Bai. Meeting you really is better than hearing about you. This is our first time working together—surely we have to go grab a bite and have some fun?”
Xiao Bai blinked and looked at the watch on his wrist. “But it’s already past midnight.” Normally, his head would have been buried in his pillow by now, sleeping so soundly he would not have known what day or year it was.
Zhong Yao wrapped an arm around his shoulders and laughed dramatically. “Don’t tell me you go to bed at eight sharp every night, wake up at six sharp every morning for calisthenics, and don’t even get up once in between to take a piss.”
“No. I go to bed at ten and wake up at six.” Xiao Bai held up eight fingers. “You need a full eight hours of sleep to feel energetic.” He paused. “But I really don’t get up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night.”
Zhong Yao was just about to tease him further when Li Mo called from the doorway, “I’m heading off.” Off-camera, Li Mo was completely different from the person he was on the show. His face hung perpetually long, without the slightest trace that it was capable of smiling.
Zhong Yao lowered his voice. “Be careful. If your whole life is nothing but home and work, sooner or later you’ll turn into a henpecked househusband like him.”
Xiao Bai only half understood.
After exchanging a few pleasantries with Li Mo, Gao Qin walked over.
Zhong Yao was still working hard to persuade Xiao Bai to experience one wild night for the sake of broadening his horizons.
“Sir Zhong, Xiao Bai is still young. Plenty of girls would be interested in him. He hasn’t reached the age where he needs to buy affection with money.” Gao Qin approached with a dark expression.
Zhong Yao removed his arm from Xiao Bai’s shoulders and shook his head. “Mama Bird is here. Ah, come on, Sir Gao. Don’t be so rigid. Xiao Bai is old enough to understand the ways of men and women. Even if you’re a Puritan, you ought to let your artists sample a little adult nightlife once in a while. Otherwise, everyone who comes out of Yimate won’t even know how to drink—and the moment they finally do, something goes wrong.”
The words had rushed out too quickly. Only after he finished did Zhong Yao realize he had said something inappropriate, and he glanced uneasily at Gao Qin’s face.
Gao Qin, however, did not seem to have been paying much attention. He merely turned and patted Xiao Bai on the shoulder. “Say goodbye to Uncle Zhong.”
Xiao Bai’s mouth fell open. He looked at the man in front of him, who appeared at most ten years older than himself, hesitated, and finally obediently said, “Goodbye… Uncle Zhong.”
Zhong Yao’s jaw nearly dropped off. “What exactly did you feed him? He actually listens to you?” If he had not just hosted a show with Xiao Bai himself, he would have suspected the young man was a kindergarten child suffering from gigantism.
“This is what happens when two people of outstanding character meet.” Gao Qin shrugged. “Naturally, you’ll never experience it in this lifetime.”
Zhong Yao shook his head. “That poisonous tongue of yours sprays venom every time you open your mouth.”
“I spit poison. You spit fire. We’re about even.”
Remembering his earlier slip of the tongue, Zhong Yao smiled sheepishly. “Fine. Uncle Zhong is going off to enrich his life. You two can slowly head home and continue being good little children.”
Gao Qin said goodbye to Chen Fei, then led Xiao Bai outside.
The cool night breeze hit them as they reached the entrance of the television station, and Xiao Bai felt his previously foggy mind clear somewhat.
“You didn’t say much on the show just now,” Gao Qin said. “Were you sleepy?”
“Mm. A little.”
“A competent artist needs to maintain a good, energetic appearance at all times.” Gao Qin took his car keys from his pocket and lectured him as they walked. “You’re a public figure. Your job is to show the audience the best version of yourself.” He paused. “Whether you’re on television or going about your daily life.”
Xiao Bai turned his head toward him. “Are you talking about Brother Ya Lun?”
Gao Qin had not expected him to ask so directly. His hand paused briefly on the car door before he replied, “As long as you understand the distinction.”
After getting into the car, Xiao Bai hesitated, then quietly said to Gao Qin as he pulled on his seat belt, “I think Brother Ya Lun must have had a reason for doing what he did.”
“Other than a lunatic, who kills someone without a reason?” Gao Qin started the car.
Even though Xiao Bai had experienced Gao Qin’s poisonous tongue countless times, this time he still felt a flicker of anger. No matter what had happened, Feng Ya Lun was Gao Qin’s artist. For his own manager to act so indifferent seemed far too cold.
Xiao Bai stared at the road ahead and suddenly remembered the night Feng Ya Lun had driven him home. The sky had been just as dark, though there had been more pedestrians then, all of them hurrying along. The streetlights had been very bright—so bright they had somehow made him feel uneasy.
“I think… Brother Ya Lun cares about you a lot,” Xiao Bai suddenly said.
Gao Qin’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“I haven’t been here very long, but I believe Brother Ya Lun isn’t an impulsive person.” Xiao Bai stubbornly held to his position.
Instead of answering, Gao Qin asked, “Do you know Zhu Ning Ning?”
Xiao Bai thought for a moment. “The actress who played the female lead in The Emperor Goes Incognito to Pick Up Girls?”
“Mm.”
“Didn’t she commit suicide by jumping off a building?” Brother Xiong had liked her a great deal back then. When she died, he had even gone alone to stand at the end of a bridge and let the wind blow over him. Jia Zhi Qing always claimed Brother Xiong must have shed a hero’s tears that day.
“Mm.” Gao Qin reached up and loosened his tie slightly. “Do you know why she died?”
“No.”
“Because of public opinion. Everyone said she was a wealthy businessman’s kept mistress—the other woman.” His fingertips whitened slightly around the steering wheel. “But the truth was that the businessman had lied to her. He kept telling her that he and his wife were already separated and were in the process of divorcing. But once the affair became public, he immediately turned on her and denied everything. He claimed that she had seduced and tempted him, and that he would absolutely never divorce his wife for some vixen.”
In Xiao Bai’s memory, Gao Qin had always been calm and composed, someone who regarded everyone—and perhaps the entire world—with a faint hint of mockery. It was the first time Xiao Bai had ever realized that Gao Qin’s face was capable of showing such bitter anger at the injustice of the world.
“She couldn’t bear the condemnation from the public, so she jumped to her death.” By the time Gao Qin said the word “death,” his emotions had gradually settled again.
Xiao Bai cautiously asked, “She was your…?”
“My ex-girlfriend.” Gao Qin paused. “And my first love.”
Xiao Bai’s instincts told him that Zhu Ning Ning had probably also been Gao Qin’s only girlfriend to this day.
The Gao Qin he knew was meticulous in everything he did. From the way he had spoken just now, Xiao Bai could tell that he had never stopped caring about his former girlfriend. Under those circumstances, he would never have begun a relationship with anyone else.
For some inexplicable reason, Xiao Bai suddenly felt deeply sorry for the strength and restraint this man had carried all these years.
When the light turned red, Gao Qin turned to look at him. “Why do you have two drops of drool leaking out of the corners of your eyes?”
Xiao Bai hurriedly wiped them away.
“I didn’t tell you that story so you could sit there contemplating the meaning of life. I told you because in this industry, you have to watch every single step you take. Otherwise…” His voice abruptly dropped. “…you might never recover.”
Xiao Bai’s heart sank. “Then Brother Ya Lun…”
“I’m his manager. His situation is my responsibility, not yours.”
They arrived outside Xiao Bai’s home.
As Gao Qin watched him get out of the car, a sentence suddenly rose to his throat. “You…”
Xiao Bai turned around.
Gao Qin took a breath. “Don’t be late tomorrow. Even though you got back late tonight, tomorrow’s schedule hasn’t changed.”
Xiao Bai nodded.
Gao Qin watched the car door close and watched Xiao Bai walk upstairs. For one instant, he suddenly felt as though he had overlapped with Feng Ya Lun from that night.
Watching Xiao Bai’s retreating figure inevitably made him remember how much he himself had weathered.
Once—once, he too had been this young and this innocent.
He took his foot off the brake and pressed the accelerator.
This isn’t the time to think about that. Tomorrow, there are still far too many things waiting for me to do.
Xiao Bai finally received his salary. When he counted it, he discovered that it was actually more than a thousand yuan higher than what he had calculated based on the rates Gao Qin had given him. Counting the days, Jia Zhi Qing and Feng Ya Lun should both be getting out in another two days, so he decided to buy them each a present to celebrate.
Feng Ya Lun had taken him shopping before and had even bought him a shirt, so Xiao Bai easily found his way back to the same store and bought a pair of beach shorts costing more than five hundred yuan. Then he detoured to the pedestrian shopping street and bought a watch for a little over one hundred yuan, intending to replace Jia Zhi Qing’s watch—the one that was perpetually half an hour slow.
He happily walked out of the shop and looked up to see a crossing-the-bridge rice noodle restaurant across the street. His stomach immediately growled in betrayal.
Elio’s Notes: Crossing-the-Bridge Rice Noodles (过桥米线) are a famous Yunnan dish typically served with very hot broth, rice noodles, and assorted ingredients that are added separately. The unusual name comes from a traditional story about a wife carrying meals across a bridge to her studying husband.
Speaking of eating out, aside from the two meals involving Yan Su Ang—one Yan Su Ang had treated him to and one Xiao Bai had treated him to—Xiao Bai had not eaten out again. Remembering that he still owed Yan Su Ang more than three hundred yuan, he immediately decided to invite him to another meal and reduce the debt a little.
He took out his phone, but his finger paused over the green call button.
It was afternoon. Yan Su Ang might very well be filming a movie or recording a program. After thinking about it, Xiao Bai ultimately wrote a text message inviting him to eat instead, sent it, and cheerfully ran into the rice noodle restaurant to wait.
Yan Su Ang sat inside his private dressing room.
His phone lay all alone on the coffee table.
He could not resist pressing a button again.
The screen lit up, displaying the text message he had already read hundreds of times. Black characters stood sharp and distinct against the white background.
His thumb moved over the Reply option. After hesitating, he pressed it.
A blank screen appeared, the cursor blinking on and off as though urging him to hurry.
After another hesitation, he slowly typed, “I’m busy.” Then he added a period… thought about it, and changed the period into a comma.
But what was supposed to come after the comma?
His fingers lightly tapped against the phone.
There were two knocks at the door.
Lin Fa poked his head inside. “The director says they’re ready.”
Yan Su Ang’s finger moved instinctively, and the screen changed to:
Send?
“I know.”
Lin Fa’s gaze seemed to linger on the phone for a moment before his head quickly disappeared and the door shut again.
Yan Su Ang was once more left alone in the room, facing his phone.
After a while, he sighed, pressed and held the power button, and silently watched the glow of the screen slowly fade until it went completely dark.
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