Crack-crack-crack!
Gunfire and shattered wine-bottle fragments sprayed beside Pei Yan’s face!
Liquor splashed across his face, ran into his mouth, and soaked his chest.
For one moment, everything went still, tension gathering before release.
“Tang Yi” suddenly burst in from the side and kicked precisely at “Deng Bai’s” wrist, knocking the gun from his hand, then kicked away the lighter the villain was trying to use to ignite the alcohol and burn him alive. Every kick landed exactly where it was meant to.
Pei Yan kicked with confidence because he trusted Mr. Zhuang. Even if his own aim was off by a fraction, Zhuang Xiao could “receive” it precisely enough that the connection on camera would remain seamless.
The rope ladder shook wildly from the kick, swaying through the artificial smoke. The two men closed to short range, bare hands against bare hands. This was where the real kung-fu spectacle began.
The rope ladder finally failed under the two men’s violent struggle and broke apart. Zhuang Xiao jumped onto the balcony, his palm cutting viciously toward Pei Yan’s chest. Young Hero Pei leaned back in an apparently drunken haze, his body seeming boneless, but loose without collapsing, drunk in form yet sober in intent. Then he exploded forward, trapped the elbow, struck the ribs, immediately attacked low, and the two began exchanging kicks.
They moved and twisted across a balcony on the verge of being blown apart by gunfire. The choreography they had designed beforehand was no longer entirely choreography. Fists struck flesh, sparks flew, and once the fight truly started, killing intent naturally flashed from their eyes. All either man wanted was to win. They fought freely and flamboyantly. Who was still thinking about the prescribed routine?
Pei Yan kicked. Zhuang Xiao kicked at the same time. The balls of their feet collided within a hair’s breadth, bone and tendon twisting against each other in an instant.
Pei Yan hissed softly.
Uh…
Zhuang Xiao had already caught Pei Yan’s foot and thrown himself sideways, rolling over the edge of the balcony.
That was in the script.
They were not fighting for real, but perhaps Pei Yan had used too much force. For one dazed instant, he instinctively reached to grab Zhuang Xiao, only for Zhuang Xiao to catch his arm in return. The two men, almost embracing back-to-back, followed the route and staging arranged beforehand and fell from the balcony together toward the cargo truck below, its bed filled with fake cartons and foam padding.
The arm around Pei Yan’s lower back held him very tightly, and another hand seemed to sweep aside the cartons crashing toward his face and head.
Pei Yan also held Zhuang Xiao around the head and shoulders. It lasted only a second, and then they were both upside down, tumbling clumsily into the truck bed. A barrage of natural impact sounds blended into a chaotic roar around their ears as they plunged into the jumble of cushioning material.
Their mouths filled with dust. Smoke and grit swallowed their vision.
The director hesitated for only a moment and could not bear to call stop. Perhaps he had too much confidence in the two men’s abilities.
Fat Charles made urgent silent gestures at everyone: go, go, keep going! The two men sprang out of the pile of foam and cardboard without hesitation and continued. Crew members hidden around the set remained grave-faced, each department moving in rhythm with the shoot.
In a fight scene, as long as the director did not call stop, you did not stop. If you stopped, you had to reshoot, and the feeling might be gone the next time.
They released each other, and in the next second they were wrestling again, attacking and twisting each other’s joints, pressing forward aggressively. The exchange looked even more convincing than the choreographed sequence. Pei Yan had already realized that one of his shoes had fallen off, apparently before he went headfirst over the balcony. Fuck…
Something unusual flashed through both men’s eyes, but neither showed it. On the surface they still had to look as though they hated each other and were fighting to the death.
Zhuang Xiao’s hair had come loose. His styling looked cold and vicious, the eyeliner darker because of the makeup, scars painted over his eyelid and temple. Yet Pei Yan kept thinking that the gaze behind all of it was still calm and soft. Maybe he was imagining things.
There seemed to be two faint flames inside those eyes, shining on him, carrying “recognition” and “admiration.” The light was always half-hidden. Every time Pei Yan wanted to move closer and examine it carefully, it disappeared.
Following Master Sha’s choreography, Pei Yan finally kicked the big boss off the front of the truck and down to the ground.
Only inside an unreal movie plot could he get the better of Zhuang Xiao by a move or two, even stomp him once, satisfying a petty craving in his heart.
The moment the director shouted “Cut,” Pei Yan jumped down too, rolled, landed beside where Zhuang Xiao had fallen, and grabbed his arm.
Holding his wrist, he slowly hauled the man up from the ground.
Zhuang Xiao braced one hand at his waist and applied a little strength. Pei Yan supported his lower back to give him leverage, and he rose. Pei Yan asked, “Waist okay?”
The old man at the monitor was already shouting, “Beautiful, beautiful! Excellent! That’s good!”
The effects team, pyrotechnics crew, smoke team, and several extras playing “corpses” all stood up and applauded excitedly. A beautiful take meant no reshoot. Every department saved trouble and could leave early. The helicopter was rented by the hour and could be sent away now. Everyone in a team liked collaborators who worked cleanly and efficiently, one take and done.
Zhuang Xiao stood so close to Pei Yan their bodies almost touched. “We got too carried away. Nearly lost control.”
“How did I lose control?” Pei Yan’s eyes immediately widened.
“When you jump from a height, protect your head and face first. Get your face cut up and you can’t make a living off it anymore.” Zhuang Xiao instructed him.
“You think I can make a living off my face too?” Pei Yan immediately seized the opening. “Good eye!”
Zhuang Xiao laughed at him. He had never seen anyone this pleased with himself. Put a mirror in front of Mr. Pei and the man would spread his tail like a peacock.
At the same time Pei Yan raised one large bare foot. “Where’s my shoe?”
Zhuang Xiao’s face was completely blank. “Your shoe. Why are you asking me?”
“My fucking shoe is still up on the balcony!” Pei Yan pointed indignantly above their heads. “You did that on purpose?”
Zhuang Xiao gave him an expression capable of infuriating a dead man. “You think you could make me do it ‘on purpose’?”
Pei Yan said, “You…”
Zhuang Xiao had checkmated him again, pinning him completely.
Men always had a competitive streak. No exceptions. Some people displayed it openly, right on the surface, like Pei Yan. He used the film fight to satisfy himself, secretly competing and wanting to determine who was better. Only today, he had lost again.
He had already lost on the balcony. One exchange had decided it. Some people were quietly wicked. They did not bother arguing with you, but at the instant their feet met, they aimed carefully and brushed lightly with the inside edge of a shoe. No injury to tendon or bone, just enough to strip off Pei Yan’s shoe and make him look ridiculous. He had been disarmed of his footwear in the middle of a fight!
Zhuang Xiao finally could not hold back and laughed. It had been a joke, just teasing him.
Zhuang Xiao added, “What were you fighting with just now? How did the choreography say you were supposed to do it? The moment the fight started, you drifted off script.”
Pei Yan was stubborn. “How was it wrong…? Ah!”
He immediately ate a surprise knee strike, clutched his ribs, and tried to run, only to get caught again. Zhuang Xiao sneered. “Your combat-sports technique showed up on camera. I was honestly following the scene design, and you were already swinging away like a lunatic! Let’s see how post-production fixes your footage.”
“Normally I don’t get a chance to fight you,” Pei Yan admitted shamelessly. “Normally I don’t get a chance to win either… I finally won a couple of exchanges.”
In the years when Pei Yan competed in combat sports, practical fighting was his specialty. Traditional martial-arts forms genuinely were not his strong suit.
But in movies, once you had the foundation, everything depended on the action director designing a style for you. Whatever style they designed, you should be able to perform it. That was what made a competent kung-fu actor. Only sometimes he fought too wildly, got too excited exchanging moves with Zhuang Xiao, lost himself, and shamelessly let those lethal flying-knee techniques from combat sports creep back into the performance.
By evening, the Los Angeles studio work was nearly wrapping. The set was noisy and cheerful, everyone in a good mood.
“Mop” kept his word and generously invited the entire important crew out to a restaurant and bar for an all-night party. Tony’s dramatic scenes and dialogue had also finished smoothly. On camera, he looked spectacular. As the male lead, he wanted to thank the crew for all their support and tolerance. He really did owe them one.
During the break while wrapping, Pei Yan’s phone rang. An international number.
He checked the time. By Beijing time across the Pacific, people should already be awake.
He answered. “Hello… Dad.”
Pei Yan kept his voice moderate while talking to his father overseas. “Mm… I’m fine. Don’t worry. Alive and jumping around.
“How would I get hurt that easily? The climate here is nice too, comfortable. No wonder houses cost so much. What, you thinking of buying a place here? Plenty of Chinese people and Chinese supermarkets, easy living. Good place for you and Mom to retire!
“The atmosphere on set is great. The director especially loves me. Really, he said it himself. The person he trusts and loves most now is me because he can split me into two people and use both! Hahahaha…
“Dad, when it comes out, just wait and watch. The whole movie is full of me! Hahaha, I’m not fooling you. Hero, villain, it’s all fucking me. Every few minutes you’ll spot me flashing across the screen, then a few minutes later I’m back again, because the one doing the beating and the one getting beaten are both me, hahahahaha…”
The more Pei Yan laughed, the louder he spoke. He did not care who overheard.
From a distance, Zhuang Xiao listened to Pei Yan’s flamboyant laugh and caught fragments of what he was saying.
He had to admit that the male lead role should have belonged to Mr. Pei from the beginning. The two of them playing opposite each other in fight scenes could not have been more suitable.
After winding around in a huge circle, Pei Yan was still “playing” the hero, only hidden behind the screen in another form. The two of them were still paired against each other in the action scenes, fighting to their hearts’ content, evenly matched.
That night, important members of the production gathered at a downtown bar.
When Zhuang Xiao walked in, everyone in the middle of drinking and socializing instinctively either looked up or turned their heads.
Zhuang Xiao was dressed entirely in black.
No flashy accessories or jewelry, only a fitted black crewneck T-shirt and black trousers. His appearance alone drew enough attention. Under the evening lights of the bar he looked more polished than usual, and there was a little more ease at the corners of his mouth.
People on the crew raised their glasses to greet Mr. Zhuang, then collectively turned to stare at Mr. Pei at the other end of the table. “Same thing!”
Because Pei Yan was also dressed head to toe in black, black shirt and black trousers.
Pei Yan was faintly startled inside, then smiled to himself and nodded toward Zhuang Xiao from across the room. After several weeks of shooting, this was the rare time they had gathered socially in private. Pei Yan had assumed Zhuang Xiao simply would not come somewhere like this for fun.
“The Black Wind Twin Fiends,” someone judged. “One look and you know both of them are vicious characters hiding serious skill.”
“Heh-heh…” Pei Yan laughed. “You only just noticed?”
“They’re literally the big boss and second boss,” someone chimed in. “Each one worse than the other.”
“Hate to see your scenes wrap. Why not fight a few more times?” someone else said.
“Can’t bear to see us go? Want us fighting more? Director, give me more scenes!” Pei Yan shouted toward Big Daddy at the other end of the table.
“You still don’t have enough scenes?” The old man smiled slyly.
“My ‘scenes’ aren’t even credited to me!” Pei Yan complained.
“Fine, when the two of you collect your lunchboxes and wrap, I’ll make the spectacle bigger. I’ll give both of you extra detonators and explosives!” Fat Charles grinned at him, spraying beer foam.
Elio’s Notes: “Collecting a lunchbox” (领盒饭) is Chinese film and internet slang for a character being killed off or written out. Here, they’re joking about the brothers’ death scenes.
“Director, which of us gets the more spectacular death scene?” Zhuang Xiao opened a bottle of sparkling mineral water.
“You die first. Your little brother runs off to avenge you, so his death scene is bigger. Final battle and all.” Fat Charles said.
“That won’t do, will it?” Zhuang Xiao was clearly in a good mood, half smiling. “I can fight better than he can. Let him die first, I’ll avenge him, and I’ll take the final battle.”
“What’s the difference?! We can write the script either way. Either way you two brothers are collecting every lunchbox in the building, hahahaha…” someone nearby said.
“Of course it’s different.” Zhuang Xiao tipped his head back and drank water.
“Look at you, Ah-Xiao. Pure water, not a drop of alcohol! No spirit at all! How the hell am I supposed to add detonators and explosives for you? Boring!” The old man was already on his third vodka and visibly drunk, getting talkative and loud.
While everyone else babbled, Pei Yan quietly made half a circuit around the table and ended up beside Zhuang Xiao. People were scattered loosely around the long high table. Western bar food did not come with assigned seats. Everyone used tall stools and sat wherever.
The bar was loud, so the two instinctively leaned close and spoke by each other’s ears.
“Why does it matter who collects the lunchbox first?” Pei Yan asked.
“Think about it. How are you going to shoot it?” Zhuang Xiao tapped his water bottle against Pei Yan’s glass.
“Trying to steal my scene? Steal my final boss fight?” Pei Yan shook his glass provocatively and squeezed one step closer to the table.
“Who’s stealing your scene?” Zhuang Xiao already knew Pei Yan’s mouth was mostly nonsense and rarely produced a serious sentence.
“I know what you mean. So how do you want to shoot it?” Pei Yan looked at him.
“You planning to ‘fight’ yourself in the final battle? Beat yourself to death?” Zhuang Xiao asked.
“That would make it some kind of self-top/self-bottom setup, hahahaha!” Pei Yan burst out laughing.
Elio’s Notes: 攻/受 literally mean “attacker/receiver” but are also BL fandom terms for top/bottom roles. Pei Yan is joking that if he plays both combatants, he would be both sides of the pairing.
Someone nearby was already complaining. “Hey, hey! You two, what are you talking about? What secret are you whispering?”
Pei Yan looked up and shot back, “It’s a secret. None of your damn business. Kids shouldn’t interrupt.”
He said it in Mandarin, which the foreign friend naturally could not understand at all.
Zhuang Xiao could not hold it in and showed his dimple again.
If they followed the original script, the younger brother Deng Yun would fight the male lead Tang Yi in the final confrontation to the death. That meant the final action scene would literally require Pei Yan to play against himself. How were they supposed to shoot that?
Once Pei Yan started imagining it, he could not stop laughing. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous it became. He had limited experience in the industry and had never made a movie this absurd.
“When the time comes, I’ll have to do makeup twice. First I ride a speedboat and crash from the left, then I drive a bigger boat and crash from the right. Then I jump into the sea, flip the other boat from underwater, and knock the other ‘me’ into the water. Both ‘mes’ fall in and start fighting in the ocean! The audience looks at it and goes, fuck, isn’t that just the same guy fighting himself under there? Are these two from the same litter? Twins?!”
Pei Yan acted the whole scene out with dramatic gestures.
The two laughed until each choked on his own drink and bent their heads together coughing.
“From the beginning, this script should’ve gone with some melodramatic twist where the good guy and bad guy are half brothers through the father or mother. Real brothers, then conflict develops and in the end only one of them can survive. Then I could play both roles.” Pei Yan said.
Zhuang Xiao finished the bottle of water. After a moment of silence he said, “Talk to the writer and director. Adjust the script. Since it doesn’t matter which one of us dies first, make the final fight better. I’ll fight you. Deng Bai faces the male lead. That makes sense.”
“You still want to steal my final battle? Hmph.” Pei Yan sounded unwilling, while in his heart he instantly agreed. It was exactly what he wanted. Another chance to exchange real blows with Zhuang Xiao. Otherwise he would not get one.
“So do you want to change it or not?” Zhuang Xiao suddenly stared at him, demanding a straight answer.
“I’ll listen to you… change it.” Pei Yan pretended not to care, keeping his face calm while inside he was wildly shouting three times: Go tell the director. Change it, change it, change it now. The final battle is ours!
They clinked the mineral-water bottle and wineglass, silently sealing the agreement.
Only when they pulled their hands apart did Pei Yan look a moment too long, then abruptly tear his tangible gaze away from Mr. Zhuang’s profile and drain the wine in his glass.
Zhuang Xiao’s body was built with extreme efficiency. Wrapped in black, he had exactly the kind of figure people described as lean in clothes and muscular without them. Front, side, back, every angle looked handsome as hell. Add that distinctive big-boss hairstyle, and among a crowd under the lights, every small movement carried presence.
He did not talk much either. Just enough.
The only thing that did not fit was that he held mineral water instead of vodka, which softened him somehow and made him seem more easygoing.
Pei Yan looked much younger than Zhuang Xiao. Bald head, earring, tattoos wherever skin showed.
The way he normally walked wore an expression that said, I don’t respect any of you, so get the hell away from me. A mocking little curve always lived at his lips, and he looked dissatisfied with everyone. Nobody should expect to come within three feet of him. His attitude alone could blast you away.
One was clearly righteous, the other wicked. Sometimes Pei Yan could not stop himself from watching Mr. Zhuang and unconsciously imitating the way he walked with his back straight, the gesture with which he held a bottle or glass, which finger extended and which curled back.
He was not trying to make excuses for himself. He could only admit that Zhuang Xiao’s attraction in a crowd was like a star pulling on a satellite, exerting a gravity impossible to resist.
Pei Yan liked moving close to Zhuang Xiao, liked leaning in and talking. That three-foot boundary simply did not exist when the person in front of him was Zhuang Xiao.
*