This was an upscale apartment complex in one of the liveliest, most prosperous stretches inside Beijing’s Second Ring Road, carved from a scrap of land where every inch cost a fortune.
Two bedrooms and one living room, with a relatively large living room and kitchen and tiny bedrooms. It was exactly the kind of place suited to a single man.
Pei Yan had only come over to take a look and "check" that Zhuang Xiao had food and somewhere to live after returning to Beijing. Several other people were there too. The agent and assistants helped move luggage into the rooms.
Walking around the apartment, Pei Yan found all kinds of wine stored in the cabinets and storage room. "Whose place is this?"
Zhuang Xiao said, "Borrowed. Youhui’s."
Pei Yan snorted. "Heh. You borrowed a place from him?"
Why didn’t you borrow somewhere from me? Look this way. Me. Me. I’m a whole living person right here.
Zhuang Xiao said, "I’m only staying here a few days. Most of my time will be on set anyway, so I won’t be around much. Liang Youhui spends most of his time in Los Angeles or Tianjin. He doesn’t stay here either."
This time Pei Yan was not stupid enough to ask, Are you going home? Where’s your home? Why aren’t you going home?… It was as if this man had come back and suddenly had no home to return to.
Then why come back at all? Did it make him feel better?
He had come back to shoot Dragon Battles Heaven’s Pass because Pei Yan had personally opened his mouth and sincerely invited him. He had come back to film because he was giving Pei Yan face… The moment Pei Yan imagined that, he smiled first and began radiating heat all on his own again, burning himself to light the person in front of him.
An assistant unpacked Zhuang Xiao’s luggage and casually placed an ashtray and lighter on the coffee table.
Pei Yan was also "casual" as he tossed down two copies of the fashion magazine he had brought. The cover was the black-and-white artsy half-naked photo of the two of them standing back-to-back and brooding.
They had already taken their clothes off for the shoot. He was terrified Zhuang Xiao might not have seen the sample copy. No matter what, he needed to establish a little presence. His body looked this good…
The two stood around in the middle of the living room talking. Pei Yan said, "All right. You probably didn’t sleep well on the plane last night either. Rest. Hurry up and sleep. I’m leaving. See you on set."
He reached into his pocket and handed Zhuang Xiao a business card.
Zhuang Xiao looked at it. "This isn’t your card. Restaurant?"
It was a rather stylish restaurant near Sanlitun.
"Why would I have a business card?" Pei Yan smiled. "Let’s eat together sometime. I live near this restaurant. Once you get there you’ll know, it’s in the development behind that street. Not far from here."
The apartment Zhuang Xiao had borrowed was outside Dongzhimen, near Chunxiu Road. Pei Yan’s private home was near Sanlitun. They were not far apart. If the area had one thing, it was restaurants, bars, and nightclubs everywhere.
"We fly to the film base tomorrow and join the production. When we’re back again and have a chance, we’ll eat together. I’ve eaten several meals from you already, big dishes, small dishes, takeout boxes. Next time it’s my treat."
Pei Yan said.
They were too busy. Their schedules were packed so tightly that asking the person he liked to have a meal, to go on a date, required writing an IOU against some distant unknown date.
He looked at Zhuang Xiao and hesitated. Both men paused, then naturally clasped hands and opened their arms for a light hug.
The upper arms circled shoulders, the lower arms caught waists. Nothing else touched.
It was simply a very masculine "you understand, I understand" embrace between men. There was no need for extra words.
The program had only just finished recording and gone into post-production. By schedule, it would not air until the weekend two weeks later, but promotion had already begun and internal promotional stills had leaked.
Online, pink bubbles detonated like bombs. The Zhuang-Pei CP had started throwing sugar so suddenly and wildly.
"Too sweet, too manly. A-Xiao openly protected Yanyan during the studio prank in front of everybody. He knows our Yan-baby has a sensitive stomach and hadn’t eaten lunch, so he wouldn’t let Yanyan eat a single chili!"
"Apparently A-Xiao hadn’t eaten lunch either, but his whole heart was still full of Yanyan-baby. An invincible warm man nobody can resist!"
"Poor Feng-ge. Feng-ge had to finish an entire bowl of chilies. A-Xiao and Yan-baby are newly reunited after separation, and you’re standing there as a giant light bulb feeding them chili chicken? Bring out a bowl of sweet fermented-rice dumplings instead. Too sweet!"
*
That night after getting home, Pei Yan grabbed the upper doorframe in the living room and did twenty pull-ups, sweating out the energy in his body that had nowhere to go.
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror afterward, arms braced as he looked at that head of his… Pei Yan grinned at himself in the mirror, smacked his lips, and almost could not bear to brush his teeth.
Keep the taste of the chili chicken. Keep it overnight. Don’t rinse his mouth.
Pei Yan showered, changed into sleep pants, and flung himself onto the big bed in a feverishly good mood.
The moment he opened his phone, the trending page was a pink bomb. That shot of Zhuang Xiao feeding a grain of chicken into his mouth had already become every sort of GIF and reaction image, mostly frames of Pei Yan grinning so widely his back molars showed as he opened his mouth for food. His finger kept slipping and saving them one by one.
His two buddies teased him in their group chat. Hey, hey, we saw the GIFs. You’ve progressed to feeding each other now, that intimate. That "private assistant" from last time was this big handsome guy, right? Old Pei, you bastard, you’re really going hard.
"Hard my ass."
He sent them a voice message, tone miserable.
"What went into my mouth was chili chicken, not the meat on his body. Haven’t gotten one bite of that yet."
Yuan Chao comforted him. "Don’t rush. He’s feeding you now. Next step he’ll get into your bed and ‘feed’ you there."
Pei Yan said, "Fuck off. I’m the one feeding him, okay."
Would Zhuang Xiao let him "feed" him?
Cough… That kind of thing could only be imagined.
He decided he really was a coward. Pathetic.
Pei Yan loosely pulled the air-conditioning quilt over his body. In the darkness, he breathed out softly and slid one hand down into his sleep pants. The sound of his breathing filled the quiet bedroom. Outside the apartment, the embassy district stayed alive all night, a river of light reflecting over his heart…
He reached under his pillow for the magazine, fingers slick and hurried as he turned to his favorite page.
Zhuang Xiao faced the camera with chest and waist exposed, loose waistband hanging precariously low. Understated wildness, deep and stylish, the sexy lines of his abdomen enough to make blood surge. Anyone who did not know would assume the abs were painted in with contour powder, but Pei Yan knew they were real. In person, the body was even more tempting than the photograph…
He rested his face against the magazine, lips touching those beautiful abs, then quietly moved lower and sucked his way down, kissing the crotch several times with force. There was enough saliva to laminate the page. Hot, spicy breath gathered between his lips as he quickly released himself…
Afterward came emptiness. The bed was huge and vacant, nobody beside him. Wanting someone this badly left him a little sad…
The next day was spent traveling between airports. His team came with him as they rushed to the Yanmen Pass film base.
Pei Yan wore sunglasses and headphones, a hip-hop hoodie and tight jeans that showed off his long legs, openly appearing at the airport with his bald head on full display. He really did not take back doors. He walked the regular passenger route and let people look.
He waved once at the fans seeing him off. Rarely in such a good mood, he refused no request for a photograph or autograph. From lining up for his boarding pass through security, he signed nonstop. Even when stalker fans clung to his waist, grabbed his chest, or tugged at him, he did not get angry and signed for them all.
The assistant pulling luggage behind him said he was smiling like a complete idiot today. The cameras caught both rows of your molars, including the fillings you got as a kid, Master. Pay attention to your image!
Pei Yan said, Your grandpa is so happy right now I could carry two 158-centimeter suitcases on my shoulders and walk!
Among the people there were several hardcore faces from his official fan club he had seen before. They chatted and laughed with him all the way to security. "Our Yanyan is so happy and handsome today. Why isn’t A-Xiao-gege on the same flight as you?"
"Huh?" Pei Yan looked perfectly innocent. "No idea. Who knows where that guy Zhuang Xiao ran off to. He flew ahead of me ages ago and never contacted me at all!"
*
Majestic Yanmen Pass rose above them, the lines of its walls joining the ridges of green mountains beneath the western evening sun.
That evening, the film base held the traditional opening ceremony as usual.
Costume and wuxia productions took the ritual seriously, especially when producers, technical staff, and effects crews from Hong Kong were involved. Everyone had their own superstitions and taboos. Banners flapped across the open field and voices filled the air. At the center stood a black altar table edged in gold, formally arranged with fruit offerings, a sheep’s head and spine, and, in the very center, an image of Lord Guan.
Elio’s Notes: Lord Guan, or Guandi, is the deified Guan Yu of the Three Kingdoms era. He is widely revered as a martial deity and a symbol of loyalty and brotherhood, which is why martial-arts and film crews may honor him at an opening ceremony.
Everyone lined up in a long row, burned incense, bowed to the deity and heaven, and prayed that the entire production would go smoothly over the next two months.
Lord Guan was the martial god most revered by people in action work, representing the masculine loyalty of the jianghu. Leads, supporting actors, stunt performers, and younger doubles all went to the altar one after another, held incense in salute, and placed it in the large burner. Smoke and fire filled the site while everyone looked solemn.
The camera itself was covered first with a red cloth. Once incense had been offered and the rite completed, the main creative team removed the cloth, seeking an auspicious start. In the old film-stock era, crews most feared the camera scratching the film. A red cloth was used to ward off bad luck and drive away evil, and over time the practice became an unwritten ritual of the industry.
Young Hero Pei, already in costume and makeup, returned from his circuit around the altar. Below the waist he wore an exquisitely made dark-navy robe.
He squinted, eyes stinging from the smoke. His vision blurred, but he could still make out figures. He spotted Zhuang Xiao half-hidden behind the smoke among the crowd and wandered over.
The two naturally drifted together whenever there was an opening in the crowd. Of course they would use every crack to talk.
Pei Yan asked, "Settled into the hotel? What room are you in?"
Zhuang Xiao said, "We’re probably all on the same floor. I don’t even remember which room. Production arranged it."
Pei Yan laughed. "You didn’t ask for the top-floor mountain-view suite? Sleeps six."
Zhuang Xiao asked him back, "Why would I need a six-person room? Cut myself into six pieces?"
Pei Yan: "Six beds. Rotate every night, Monday through Saturday. Covers almost a whole week."
Zhuang Xiao: "Sunday?"
Pei Yan: "Sunday? My room. Stay up all night playing cards."
He was scraping the bottom for conversation and despised himself for it. Since when had he become this talkative and cheap?
He showed his teeth in a grin. "I specifically talked to production beforehand. Told them our status levels aren’t the same and they can’t give us equal treatment. Get Mr. Zhuang a presidential suite or we can’t work together. In Los Angeles they put him in ocean-view villas."
"Quit bullshitting." Zhuang Xiao frowned, knowing every word out of Pei Yan’s mouth was nonsense. "Save it. Don’t blacken my name for fun."
Major stars joining productions often demanded things, four bodyguards, eight assistants, several scenic suites, all paid for by production. Zhuang Xiao asked for none of it. The man had arrived alone with a single bag again. No bodyguard in sight. The best fighter on set did not bring bodyguards.
Hahaha. Pei Yan laughed even though the smoke made him cough.
Then he frowned, blinking and rubbing his eyes. "Fuck, I’m almost blind."
Zhuang Xiao: "Smoke got in?"
Pei Yan: "No. Contacts. The fire’s roasting them. My lenses are about to melt!"
Zhuang Xiao: "That’s dangerous. Stay away from the fire. They can stick to your eyeballs and be hard to remove… You’re nearsighted?"
Pei Yan opened his long narrow eyes absurdly wide and stared at Zhuang Xiao, practically inviting him to see the pale blue rim of the contact lens around his dark iris. "You only figured that out now?!"
Zhuang Xiao looked innocent. "How would I know?"
Pei Yan refused to let it go. "My fans all know I’m nearsighted. They even know my exact myopia and astigmatism prescription."
Zhuang Xiao laughed. "I’m sorry. I’m an unqualified fan."
They wandered aside. Pei Yan washed his hands with bottled water, then moved close in front of Zhuang Xiao. He gently lifted his upper lid. His fingers were so nimble it seemed like one tiny touch, and the contact was already stuck to the pad of his middle finger.
They were very close now, close enough to hear each other breathe.
Then he lifted the upper lid again. Still only one hand, two fingers, and he pressed the lens back into place.
Zhuang Xiao frowned at him like he was watching a lunatic and struggled not to laugh. "Very practiced."
Pei Yan preened. "You can’t touch the lower lid. That pulls out eye bags and ruins your looks. Understand?"
Zhuang Xiao was trying painfully hard not to break. Half his face showed a dimple.
Pei Yan said, "Easy stuff. You’re not good with lenses?"
"I don’t wear contacts," Zhuang Xiao said. "My uncorrected vision is 2.3. If a bird flies overhead, I can tell whether its tail has two feathers or three."
Pei Yan stared. "Seriously?"
Zhuang Xiao mocked him. "You probably can’t even tell how many birds went by."
Pei Yan pouted. "2.3? Why didn’t you become a pilot and fly fighter jets?"
"Some diehard fan." Zhuang Xiao sneered. "Your ‘guiding lighthouse’ can pierce cloud and fog, cut through the night, and light the whole ocean. These eyes have always worked this well, and you didn’t know?"
Pei Yan: "…"
Hahaha.
Many people around them were probably hearing Zhuang Xiao laugh out loud for the first time. They did not know him well. But clearly there were two people on set who were already very familiar, and the degree of understanding between them was different.
Pei Yan muttered, unwilling to lose. "That’s genetics! I didn’t study very hard either, but my dad’s badly nearsighted. His prescription is even worse than mine! He managed to go this blind without studying, nothing to be done!"
Zhuang Xiao nodded. "Vision is genetic. Your parents and family are all educated people, of course nearsightedness runs there. I won’t get it."
Pei Yan noticed Zhuang Xiao’s face abruptly cool, the temperature dropping in an instant. Sensibly, he did not continue and changed the topic.
*
The official male lead of the film, Zhu Yixuan, the little prince from the original novel and script, had not arrived yet. He had not even joined the production and was absent from the opening ceremony.
That was the kind of detail negotiated between actor and producer. It depended what the contract specified, the latest date he had to appear, who knew.
"Sounds like he’s double-booking productions again. Still on another set, somewhere in Zhejiang Film City."
"He doesn’t have three heads and six arms. Fuck, taking three or six dramas at once, can he actually act in all of them?"
"He’s hot. Every IP wants him. Investors are ridiculous now too. Turn on the TV and eight IP dramas are airing at once on different networks, and these ‘eight model dramas’ might as well all be acted by the same bunch of people. Is that interesting? Doesn’t the audience get confused?"
Elio’s Notes: “Eight model dramas” (八大样板戏) riffs on the “Eight Model Operas” associated with the Cultural Revolution. The crew member is sarcastically comparing today’s repetitive IP dramas and recycled casts to a fixed set of officially promoted model works.
"Who doesn’t cash in while they’re hot?"
"Then all these sets and scenes have to be shot again when he arrives? Second and third male leads walk through first, then male lead comes and everybody does it again? They’re messing with us."
"You’re not even technical post. You’re a blue-collar guy pulling green cloth in the background. Be grateful. Post is who gets tortured, cutting around faces and selecting every strand of hair…"
That was the visual style of the costume, makeup, prop, and technical workers gossiping around the set.
"Little gege’s Dragon Battles Heaven’s Pass finally started! Prince Zhu looks so handsome!"
"Never seen a boy with features this delicate!"
"He has amazing CP chemistry with Hero Yun! Going crazy making calls for little gege!"
"My Rong was still with the Jade Flying Smoke crew the day before yesterday, and tomorrow he has to rush to the Dragon Battles Heaven’s Pass set at Yanmen Pass. He’s so serious and works so hard! One drama after another, such a blessing and benefit for us fans!"
The online fan topic looked like that and racked up tens of millions of reads.
What people said online and what the actual production felt like were never the same thing. Actors on different sets did not manage any of it. Filming was work, and work was for money. Youth had a short shelf life. When you were hot, you earned. That was all.
*
Domestic film sets were chaos.
Like entering a vegetable market.
It literally was a vegetable market. Pei Yan jumped down from half a dirt wall with two especially fresh radishes tucked into his sleeves, the kind you could eat raw to clear internal heat. He turned and tossed one to Hero Zhuang.
"Where’d this come from?" Zhuang Xiao asked.
"Bought it from the auntie." Pei Yan signaled with his eyes. Behind the dirt wall, an auntie waved at them. "I’ve got sweet persimmon cakes, date buns, sweet fermented rice, ice pops, ice pots! Want any, boys?"
Pei Yan wiped the radish on his sleeve and prepared to bite into it.
"Hey! Hey! Yan-baby!" the head of the costume department roared. "That’s satin, hand embroidery, cost a fortune to commission from a master! Nobody else has one, only you, and what are you doing with it?!"
Pei Yan immediately stopped wiping. Arrogantly, he stuck his tongue out at the department boss, then licked the radish in his hand.
"I climbed over the wall and looked. That auntie’s cart has huge cucumbers too, still prickly with flowers on top, really thick. Want one?" Pei Yan looked at Zhuang Xiao.
"Save it for yourself." Zhuang Xiao shot back without taking the bait.
Pei Yan bit his own tongue. Fucking mouth.
He simply could not stop saying nonsense. He always wanted to be a little closer, always wanted what existed between him and Zhuang Xiao to be different from everybody else. He always wanted the person in front of him to toss him a bit of sweetness now and then, enough to comfort him.
"Yours is hand-done Suzhou embroidery. Mine is cheap rough cloth. Use mine to wipe it." Zhuang Xiao insulted him, then wiped the radish for him. "Otherwise you’ll eat a mouthful of dirt."
Pei Yan took one huge bite. Pfft. Juice from the watery radish sprayed straight across his own face.
From the tip of his nose all the way to his forehead and the attached wig, a line of reddish juice hung like a trail.
"Are you stupid?!"
Zhuang Xiao laughed soundlessly. When he spoke low, his voice had a magnetic quality. "Don’t yell. Makeup will come over and curse you again."
Zhuang Xiao reached out, turned his face gently, and carefully wiped it with the pad of his middle finger.
"Let me get it off fast.
"Your makeup’s come off. Go get powder touched up!
"Idiot. Even the glue on your wig has split…"
Hahaha.
Who knew how many times they had laughed out loud today. Even Zhuang Xiao calling him "idiot" sounded sweet to Pei Yan. He happily pretended it was flirtatious teasing and felt good about it for ages.
*