Over the following two days, the crew swiftly completed all the remaining horseback battle scenes, including the ending in which Hero Yun took Prince Zhu away to wander the world together. Filming on the grasslands was finished.
Everyone on the production finally breathed a sigh of relief. They no longer had to worry about the warhorses threatening to walk off the job.
The atmosphere on the grassland had become peaceful and cheerful. The producers would settle everyone’s payments once they returned to Beijing, so spirits were high. The aroma of milk tea rose from the iron pot, and an elderly herdswoman stepped out of the yurt carrying a basket of pastries and date cakes. Everyone got to share the treats.
Eunuch Cen and Hero Yun still stood out among the crowd. Some people were born with star quality, and it was no wonder they became famous. Put them in the middle of a formation of horses and you could immediately tell who was a genuine star and who was an extra.
As though he hadn’t had enough of acting, Pei Yan decided to add a scene of his own. With an enormous pair of long bamboo chopsticks, he speared a piece of date cake and cheerfully held it out for Zhuang Xiao to eat.
A pair of chopsticks nearly a meter long stretched between them. Zhuang Xiao looked at Pei Yan the way one looked at a lunatic. This particular lunatic never stopped making a spectacle of himself in front of him.
Zhuang Xiao opened his mouth and bit off the date cake.
Then Zhuang Xiao picked up a long weapon he’d just used for filming, something between a saber and a spear that only its designer could identify. Using the blade’s tip, he scooped up another piece of cake and held it out, wobbling, to Young Hero Pei. Your turn, then?
The spectators around them burst out laughing.
Every gesture of apparent intimacy between the two men was concealed behind the smokescreen of gossip about the “Zhuang-Pei CP.” Moviegoers had already accepted them as a pair of partners, and outsiders could hardly distinguish rumor from reality. That made the two bold enough to clown around openly on set.
Zhuang Xiao held the tip of the weapon perfectly steady. Without hesitation, Pei Yan opened his mouth, caught the piece of cake between his teeth, and promptly wolfed it down.
That evening was the crew’s last great celebration before breaking camp and heading back to Beijing.
A blood-red sunset faded behind the stars coming out over the grasslands, while voices and laughter rang out. The logistics team really had brought several plump young lambs, along with smoked fish and chicken wrapped in foil. Apparently Pei Yan had paid for it this time, spending the money from his red envelope.
The production manager put an arm around Sa Risheng and showered him with compliments, explaining that the lambs had been bought especially for Xiao-Sa and the stuntmen. They could prepare them however they liked.
Sa Risheng said they should all share a whole roasted lamb together.
The Little Prince slaughtered the lamb himself. A Mongolian knife plunged into its neck, sending blood spattering everywhere. Watching nearby, Pei Yan instinctively flinched and touched his own neck with a shudder…
The entire crew was in for a treat. They were about to enjoy truly authentic whole roasted lamb, the main dish with which local herders welcomed honored guests.
Sa Risheng and his companions dug a shallow pit and piled wood inside to make a fire. The flames needed to burn fiercely but without smoke. Then they placed the dressed young lamb in the pit. It had been marinated with salt, cumin, pepper, and herbs, wrapped in foil, and roasted over fruitwood for three or four hours. When it was finally brought out to serve, the fragrance drifted everywhere. It was an incomparable delicacy…
The whole roast lamb arrived on a large wooden platter, accompanied by a white khata scarf and a long Mongolian knife.
The knife frightened everyone so badly that they hardly dared touch the meat despite its delicious smell. Master Pei’s eyes glowed with the green hunger of a wolf, and his chopsticks were already reaching impatiently toward the lamb’s back. He looked up at Xiao-Sa. What, are you planning to chop somebody up?
Sa Risheng sat cross-legged before the roasted lamb, picked up the knife and wiped it down. Then he used that same blade, the one he’d slaughtered the lamb and spilled blood with, to carve the meat.
* * *
The gluttons ate their fill that night. They had enormous appetites and finished three whole lambs between them.
Pei Yan and Zhuang Xiao both ate plenty. Pei Yan also drank, downing beer, baijiu, and fermented mare’s milk as he drank with the director and producers, looking as though he could hold a thousand cups without getting drunk.
After two days of rest, Zhuang Xiao’s back was working much better. He sat cross-legged on the grass, eating large mouthfuls of meat. He wore a thin shirt, and eating and drinking made him perspire all over. His collar hung slightly open, his trousers hugged his thighs handsomely, and tall riding boots covered his calves.
His braid lay naturally over one shoulder, his profile outlined by the glow of the sunset. Behind him was the magnificent backdrop of the sun sinking over the long river of the grassland.
Dressed like that, he had a deep, compelling masculinity about him. Pei Yan stared in a daze. He needed no alcohol to feel intoxicatingly drunk…
The production manager was the first to propose a toast to Zhuang Xiao. “Xiao, come have a drink. Your big brother wants to raise a cup to you.”
Zhuang Xiao had a bowl of milk tea in his hand. He wasn’t drinking alcohol.
“I mean it, brother!” the manager said. “To tell you the truth, before we started filming we never imagined we could persuade you to join us. We didn’t expect you to come. It’s been an honor. This production has put me through more hell than any other, and given me more satisfaction too! The finished film is going to be incredible. Your performance is excellent, no question about it. We’re practically celebrating its success in advance! A toast to you!”
The production manager drank first.
Even at this emotional moment, Zhuang Xiao refused alcohol, which made him appear somewhat unsociable.
Pei Yan loyally reached over, took the glass offered to Zhuang Xiao, and drained it in one gulp.
The director also lifted his glass toward Mr. Zhuang from a distance and knocked back half a glass of baijiu. Everyone was excited, drinking until their eyes turned red.
Pei Yan took another half-filled glass of baijiu someone had placed before Zhuang Xiao and downed that one as well.
Who said he didn’t know how to take care of people? Men had their own ways of looking after each other.
He could be considerate too. If Zhuang Xiao couldn’t drink, then Pei Yan would block every glass offered to him. One man would drink for two.
As people went around the table toasting each other, there was soon far more than a glass or two involved. When the third round reached Zhuang Xiao, he pressed down the hand Pei Yan extended for the glass and pushed his fingers away from its rim. “Stop drinking. You’ve had too much.”
But once someone had offered a toast, they couldn’t simply keep refusing and handing the glass back. Somebody had to drink it.
Zhuang Xiao raised the half glass of baijiu, thanked everyone for their care and help, and tipped it down his throat.
“Hey…” Pei Yan instinctively tried to stop him.
The liquor of the grasslands was pungent and fiercely hot, the spicy fumes rushing straight up the nose. The instant Zhuang Xiao took his first swallow, his eyes felt as though they were burning. His whole mouth was on fire!
He didn’t even attempt to savor the taste. He gulped it straight down as though forcing himself to swallow medicine. In that instant, every pore of his body seemed to heat up, the hairs on his skin standing on end, fire exploding through his chest and lungs. Something boomed inside his head, his scalp prickling as blood surged through his veins…
“That’s strong liquor. The alcohol content’s high. Don’t knock it back like that,” Pei Yan warned softly.
Zhuang Xiao wiped his mouth. He’d already drunk it. So what?
He really had swallowed it far too quickly. He had practically no experience with alcohol.
Perhaps it was the excitement of everyone around him, or more particularly the warmth and enthusiasm of a certain person. During this farewell banquet he kept stealing looks at Mr. Pei, watching him drink. As Pei Yan tilted his head, his Adam’s apple slid up and down, a faint noose mark showed on his throat, sweat gleamed between his collarbones, and another layer of perspiration dampened the close-shaved scalp behind his ears. The brat was so lively, so sexy.
Zhuang Xiao lowered his eyes and turned his gaze away, only to find it drawn back uncontrollably to Mr. Pei, who was laughing and talking with a lamb leg between his teeth.
Never, ever in his life had he experienced such a longing to be physically close to another man. It was a bodily desire, powerful and unmistakably sexual. That liquor must have been very strong. His head was beginning to spin…
Everyone ate and drank their fill. A campfire sprang up in the shallow pit where the lambs had roasted. Sparks rose into the air, twisting and dancing, their light reflecting on faces. Its heat seemed to roast people’s hearts, as though lighting a fire inside them…
“Delicious. Our Baby Sa really knows how to cook,” someone said.
“Of course. Those are standard skills where he comes from. Horse riding, archery, making yogurt, roasting lamb, and maybe dancing too. A man has to master all four if he wants to find a wife on the grassland,” somebody chimed in.
Did such a list of four essential skills actually exist? Who knew who’d made it up?
Somehow the conversation turned to dancing. Naturally, once everyone had eaten their fill, they started looking for some new entertainment.
People exchanged looks, thinking of asking Xiao-Sa to perform a traditional grassland dance. But they were afraid of upsetting him again and didn’t dare shout about it. Sa Risheng sat cross-legged beside the fire, silently wiping down the large knife he’d used to carve the meat.
Then somebody suggested that young Xing Rong sing or dance for them.
Xing Rong had been present throughout the meal, deliberately choosing a spot far from the roasted lamb, or rather, far from Sa Risheng. That way, nobody could photograph the two of them in the same frame.
Everyone was a little drunk, clapping noisily and egging him on. Xing Rong couldn’t very well refuse. Perhaps he also wanted to offer an apology. He stood up with a smile and said he’d dance for them.
He wore light makeup, with golden-brown smoky shadow at the corners of his lovely eyes. His hair was dyed fashionable silver-fox gray and he looked handsome in the firelight. He performed a signature solo number from his own concert. He was strikingly good-looking, with a clear singing voice and cheerful, energetic dance moves. A flirtatious glance thrown over his shoulder made him even more entertaining to watch.
Xing Rong’s assistant quietly raised a camera and photographed several handsome poses as the young star danced on the grassland beside the flames.
They’d all learned their lesson this time. Absolutely no shots with Xing Rong and Sa Risheng in the same frame, and none with Zhuang Xiao either. The pictures showed only Xing Rong, smiling brightly and dancing amid the crowd and the firelight.
Pei Yan was bored out of his mind and occasionally glanced over at Zhuang Xiao. Zhuang Xiao’s gaze seemed slightly unfocused, stars of light scattered in his dark pupils. Who knew whom he was watching?
Jealousy pricked Pei Yan again.
He could practically predict the trending topic that would appear the following morning: “Filming wraps at the Inner Mongolia location of Dragon Battles Heaven’s Pass! Young Master Rong generously entertains the production with youthful, adorable dance performance!” Something like that.
Everyone applauded and cheered. Xing Rong pressed his palms together, bowed in all directions, politely thanked the crew for taking care of him, and left the stage.
A moment later Pei Yan sprang up from the grass, waving his hands as he headed straight toward the campfire. “I’ll give you a performance!”
Nobody had asked him to perform. Everyone thought Young Hero Pei was a genuine martial-arts action star. Surely he couldn’t sing or dance, could he?
Pei Yan turned to stare at Zhuang Xiao. Zhuang Xiao stared back, one eyebrow raised in puzzlement.
Pei Yan grinned. You people haven’t seen anything yet. You want to know who can dance?
He stripped off the down jacket draped over his shoulders and casually tossed it onto the ground, provoking a scattering of whistles.
Then he continued undressing. With a shake of his shoulders, he hauled the long-sleeved shirt over his head and flung it off too. It landed right by Zhuang Xiao’s feet. Whistles and cheers erupted from every direction, and someone yelled, “Keep stripping!”
A wickedly flirtatious smile curled Pei Yan’s lips, but he stopped there. All he had left on top was a tight white tank top, paired with camouflage trousers and boots.
Zhuang Xiao could already see exactly what was happening. The brat was competitive to the bone and loved attracting attention.
Mr. Pei tilted his head slightly, his gaze sliding across Mr. Zhuang’s face. Then his shoulders moved, followed by his hands and legs. Abruptly he dropped backward in the firelight, supporting himself with his arms before using the strength of his waist to snap himself back up. He descended into the splits, leaned back, rolled across the ground, and sprang smoothly to his feet…
Everyone stared in amazement. After a few seconds, cheers erupted in a great roar. Pei Yan was dancing something resembling Black-influenced street dance.
His gaze was dangerously seductive, his body irresistible. Sweat soaked the white tank top, outlining the muscles of his chest and abdomen beneath.
Only Master Pei could dance like this. It required a foundation of skill built up from childhood. Zhuang Xiao had that same training, but his back wasn’t up to it. Pei Yan was young enough to put his body through anything, and the strength in his waist was exceptional…
Pei Yan’s gaze kept sweeping provocatively over Zhuang Xiao as he ran a hand over his own abdominal muscles and then down his thighs.
His steps were dazzling and his moves handsome. One long leg sliced out in a split, then he vaulted into a five-hundred-and-forty-degree aerial spin. It vaguely resembled the “Black Dragon Coils the Pillar” move from a Drunken Fist routine, a technique he’d performed when fighting Zhuang Xiao on camera…
Zhuang Xiao sat motionless, his eyes following every line of Pei Yan’s body. Those lines were traced in strange firelight and wound into dazzling streaks inside his gaze. His Adam’s apple kept moving too. Sweat slowly darkened the shirt across his chest. The alcohol was evaporating wildly from his pores, and his whole body felt hot.
Pei Yan deliberately let one hand slide over the front of his own trousers, gave himself a squeeze, and performed an outrageously obscene hip-thrusting move. He knew exactly what he was doing. Someone whistled wildly.
He’d been possessed. Zhuang Xiao picked up a glass of something in front of him and emptied it, feeling thirsty.
Only afterward did he realize he’d drunk a glass of fermented mare’s milk. It had a faintly gamey smell. More alcohol…
The flames burned in the pit.
The flames burned in the air where their gazes crossed.
The flames burned in both their hearts.
* * *
He finished the dance with a handsome aerial flip, a one-handed support, and a difficult freeze suspended in mid-movement.
Fucking spectacular.
The director led the shouts of “Encore! Encore!” and “Come on, do another one!” Young Hero Pei dusted the dirt off his hands and grinned with wild satisfaction. There would be no encore. This was the only appetizing starter on offer. As for the much more substantial main course, that was reserved for the eyes of Mr. Zhuang in the audience alone…
Pei Yan noticed at least three empty glasses in front of Zhuang Xiao.
Zhuang Xiao’s eyes were narrowed and moist, and he lay lazily on his side in the grass, propped up on one elbow.
As though trying to provoke trouble, somebody asked Sa Risheng, “Which of them danced better? Rongrong was pretty good, wasn’t he?”
Sa Risheng scraped the charcoal with his knife, sending up a spray of sparks. He kept his eyelids lowered and refused to answer.
“Sir Zhuang, Rongrong danced pretty well, didn’t he?” someone else asked.
“Not bad.” Zhuang Xiao nodded.
“Yanbao was handsome too! Nobody else can do somersaults like that. He’s incredible!” another person said.
“Was my dancing good? Who danced better?”
Pei Yan narrowed his eyes and challenged Zhuang Xiao.
“You’re fucking amazing. You danced way better than he did.”
Zhuang Xiao stared straight at him without blinking.
“…”
Nobody around them had expected Hero Zhuang to offer such a brutally straightforward judgment. A few people gave awkward little coughs and laughed dryly.
In the distance Xing Rong lowered his head, the corners of his mouth trembling as he struggled to conceal his humiliation and hurt. He knew Pei Yan had deliberately challenged him. He’d danced and Pei Yan had immediately danced too, as if determined to outshine him and make him lose face…
But Xing Rong no longer cared whether he had any face left. Through the leaping sparks, he secretly watched Xiao-Sa from afar. Sa Risheng sat very, very close to the fire, his profile exceptionally clear, his handsome face glowing orange. Not once throughout the evening had he looked at Xing Rong. He deliberately avoided making eye contact, silently poking at the fire with his long knife or fiddling with his snuff bottle using a little stick.
Pei Yan was quite certain Zhuang Xiao had truly drunk too much. The liquor had gone straight to his face and head, leaving his eyes red.
Normally Zhuang Xiao knew how to deal with people, maintaining his dignity and a proper sense of measure. He rarely embarrassed anyone to their face. The day he started blurting out blunt, inconvenient truths was the day he was thoroughly drunk.
A whole party of drunks swayed their way back on foot toward the hotel.
“Want a hand? Are you really that drunk?” Pei Yan caught Zhuang Xiao and supported him. The man’s feet were no longer following anything resembling a straight line, and both his gaze and his ankles seemed to be floating.
Xiao-Sa led his horse, preparing to return to the yurt for the night. Pei Yan glanced at him. “We’ll come with you. I’m sleeping in the yurt too. Not going back to the hotel.”
The production manager turned around groggily. “What for? It’s cold at night! All of you come back. Don’t make your big brother worry about you!”
“Not going!” Pei Yan waved him off. “The scenic-area gate and the hotel lobby are crawling with fucking paparazzi. You lot go ahead. We’re hiding out!”
The yurt wasn’t cold at all, because the hearts inside it were hot and their skin was burning. The supposedly invigorating mare’s milk and lamb made desire surge through the felt-walled room, impossible to suppress.
Pei Yan kept sliding his hands beneath Zhuang Xiao’s blanket.
Eventually he simply seized Zhuang Xiao’s right hand and dragged it insistently beneath his own blanket, pressing it against the front of his trousers. He couldn’t bear it any longer. The lamb and mare’s milk seemed to be roaring through his veins. He lay facedown, trying desperately to restrain himself, but he was already rock hard, a jack powerful enough to lift him right off the ground…
Something was bound to happen tonight. Nights beyond the pass were cold, and now and then dogs barked or horses neighed. Faint wolf howls could even be heard. The barking grew louder, seeming to come from the big dogs the old herdsman kept beside his stables. The old man put on a coat over his nightclothes and got up, muttering that he’d better go watch the horses in case wolves attacked.
Sa Risheng sprang up from the blankets and took a long knife and hunting rifle from a corner of the yurt. “I’ll go and have a look.”
“There are so many people here, there shouldn’t be any wolves. They won’t dare come,” Xiao-Sa said.
The two men took flashlights and their weapons and headed out into the dark to check the horses. The yurt fell silent. In the darkness, a pair of green eyes flashed.
There really was a wolf here.
This particular “wolf” had been lurking in the yurt’s hot bedding all along. Now he threw off the down jacket and military greatcoat, climbed over the blanket between them, and pressed his way roughly into Zhuang Xiao’s bedding, pinning him down.
Their ears were full of deafening panting and the drumbeat of their hearts. Neither man said a word. Both knew what they were doing, and alcohol was only an excuse to give in to desire. In the dimness they seized each other’s mouths with desperate urgency. Their very first collision hurt both of them, and they plunged into fierce kissing, trembling with bodily longing. Their rough chins scraped painfully against each other’s faces…