Wen Xin saw Liang Qiuyun heading upstairs, surrounded by various assistants, journalists, and photographers, tightly encircling him as he kept his head down, wearing sunglasses. The reporters who were previously sleeping in the corridor quickly scrambled to their feet, disregarding the drool at the corners of their mouths and the disheveled state of their clothes. They hurriedly opened their cameras and started recording with their phones, chasing after Liang Qiuyun.
Wen Xin immediately turned around, trying to find a place to hide.
“Wen Xin?” Liang Qiuyun indeed spotted her as soon as he arrived.
Liang Qiuyun was tall and broad-shouldered, unlike the slender figure commonly seen in East Asian male idols. His imposing presence allowed him to move freely within the circle of reporters, effortlessly navigating through them. Only others were pushed aside by him, and no one dared to block his path.
Achieving this was not easy. He diligently exercised every day and maintained a strict diet. Liang Qiuyun demanded perfection from himself, almost to the point of obsession, all for the sake of his leading role in the action film series and to achieve the best on-screen effect. Wen Xin once publicly measured the circumference of his upper arm muscles backstage at Mattias’ concert. They were nearly as thick as one of Wen Xin’s thighs, and his muscles were so hard that even with great effort, Wen Xin couldn’t make a dent. From the bottom of her heart, Wen Xin truly feared him.
“Yun laoban1, coming here so late, just finished filming a night scene?” a reporter asked politely.
As the voices behind her grew closer, Wen Xin clenched her hands, hesitating to turn around. Then she heard Liang Qiuyun chuckling softly behind her, sounding quite exhausted. “Just finished shooting for the day and rushed over from the set to take a look. Have you all been waiting here?”
“Of course, we’re all waiting for Tang Zhen Laoshi1 to wake up,” the reporter replied.
“I feel relieved with all of you here,” Liang Qiuyun suddenly said. He took off his sunglasses, revealing the face that often appeared in car magazine advertisements. His features were decent, and his skin was tanned. As an action film actor, his looks were more than sufficient, even more than enough. Now, Liang Qiuyun lowered his head to look at Wen Xin, who was nearly 30 centimeters shorter than him. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Why are you hiding? How is your ‘Laoshi’ doing now?”
Wen Xin stared at him without answering. With so many reporters surrounding them, Wen Xin didn’t want to repeat Guo Xiaoli’s mistake.
Liang Qiuyun lifted his chin, looking down at Wen Xin from a higher position. Then he turned around and scanned the surroundings before asking a female reporter who was struggling to hold up her phone, “How is A-zhen doing now? Can you tell me?”
The reporter blushed as Liang Qiuyun called her out by name. She stammered, “Tang Zhen Laoshi is still… still in a coma… hasn’t woken up yet.”
Liang Qiuyun nodded after hearing her response. He then glanced at Wen Xin and spoke with a perfectly measured tone, “Everyone here knows, except me. I’m the only one who can’t just wait here. I have to come in the middle of the night to seek information about A-zhen.”
The reporters looked at each other in surprise. “Yun laoban has a heavy workload and is dedicated. It’s already remarkable that you came to the hospital in the middle of the night to visit Tang Zhen. Please don’t say such things!”
Liang Qiuyun reached out and patted the shoulder of the reporter who spoke. “No need to find excuses for me,” he said.
“What do you mean by finding excuses? There are so many big shots in the industry who wouldn’t even visit if their own brothers were dying in the hospital. Tang Zhen is already out of danger, and you takes the time and effort to come every night—”
“Yes, Yun laoban, please don’t blame yourself.”
Liang Qiuyun earnestly said, “I have a favor to ask of all of you.”
“As soon as there is any news about A-zhen in the next two days, please inform my assistant, Xiao Meng, as quickly as possible. I just want to know the news as soon as possible, or else…” Liang Qiuyun paused, “I won’t be able to settle my mind no matter what.”
“Of course.”
“For such a small matter, do you need to personally come and ask? Your assistant already informed us. Besides, even if you haven’t received any news, if Tang Zhen wakes up, we will still come to interview you.”
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
“Xiao Meng already told you?” Liang Qiuyun was somewhat surprised. “I’ve been a bit exhausted lately and a bit confused.”
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Liang Qiuyun was surrounded by mobile phones, with layers upon layers held up to capture the moment. The conversation gradually shifted from the patient in hospital to the movie Liang Qiuyun was currently filming, “The Cold Flame.” As the leading actor, he appeared in a hospital late at night, chatting happily with the reporters, creating a harmonious and friendly scene. However, this harmonious atmosphere was eventually disrupted by a young intern journalist who lacked a sense of tact.
“Yun laoban, um… have the reasons behind Tang Zhen’s suicide been clarified within Asia Star Entertainment?” the intern journalist asked.
The smile on Liang Qiuyun’s face, which had been hard to come by, immediately disappeared. He shook his head and spoke seriously, “This question… It’s probably only after A-zhen wakes up that we can know the answer. And given his condition during this period, I don’t think anyone would dare to press him for an answer.”
This action superstar, whose net worth had long surpassed hundreds of millions, had portrayed numerous fearless heroes on the screen. Now, standing in the hospital corridor outside his dear friend Tang Zhen’s room, facing the tragedy of his friend’s suicide, he seemed like a child of about ten years old struggling to control his emotions. He furrowed his brow, wore a desolate expression, tightly pressed his lips together, displaying a look of someone who still couldn’t accept this reality and was mentally exhausted. When it came to Tang Zhen, he rarely revealed that touch of tender affection again.
Wen Xin stood outside the circle of reporters, listening to Liang Qiuyun’s words and observing the few female journalists on the outer edges sighing and whispering to each other, focused on their phone cameras. “Yun-ge looks so handsome in that shirt! Men without muscles can’t wear something so fitting like this,” one of the female reporters commented.
Wen Xin had an urge to vomit.
Liang Qiuyun and the reporters were still chatting when suddenly, a series of high-heeled footsteps approached from behind, pounding on the ground with an imposing force, resembling the intense drumbeats before the start of a grand performance. Liang Qiuyun turned around, looked up, and his eyes lit up. He walked straight towards the person.
“Guo-jie, long time no see,” Liang Qiuyun warmly opened his arms.
Guo Xiaoli raised her head and stared at his face. “‘Yun laoban,’ you’re here.”
With so many eyes and ears in the hospital, it wasn’t a good place to talk. Liang Qiuyun went downstairs and courteously invited Guo Xiaoli, his and Tang Zhen’s agent, into his private car.
Guo Xiaoli got into the car, adjusted her dress with her hand, and looked around discreetly, seeming uncomfortable for a while. Liang Qiuyun had stopped using the company’s assigned cars a long time ago. This car was a gift from the “The Cold Flame” production team and was equipped with luxurious features. The present-day Liang Qiuyun was no longer the naive and enthusiastic person from nine years ago, wearing old shirts and shorts, standing dumbly in Guo Xiaoli’s office, happily screaming and whistling when he heard he could debut, and running around the company like a fool.
“Yun laoban,” Guo Xiaoli said.
Liang Qiuyun turned on the car’s interior light, rolled up his sleeves to reveal his strong forearms, adjusted the seat to face Guo Xiaoli, and opened the refrigerator to take out two bottles of water. He handed one over and said, “What ‘Yun laoban’? Others can joke with me, but Guo-jie, you shouldn’t tease me like that.”
“I wouldn’t dare to joke with you. I’m afraid that if I don’t call you ‘laoban,’ it will upset you, A-Yun,” Guo Xiaoli replied.
“What are you talking about, Guo-jie?”
“A-Yun, you’re so smart. There’s no need to pretend not to understand,” Guo Xiaoli said.
Liang Qiuyun looked at Guo Xiaoli under the yellowish light in the car. The best ten years of her youth were mostly spent with Tang Zhen and him. After toiling day and night at Asia Star Entertainment for so many years, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes couldn’t be concealed by makeup anymore. After contemplating for a moment, Liang Qiuyun smiled instead of getting angry and put the untouched bottle of water aside. “Guo-jie, you have something to tell me.”
“Do you regret it?” Guo Xiaoli suddenly asked.
Liang Qiuyun looked at her.
“I’ve never asked you before. With everything that happened, Tang Zhen changing like that, I never bothered you about it, Liang Qiuyun. On the day Tang Zhen committed suicide, do you feel regret in your heart?”
“I don’t understand what you mean,” Liang Qiuyun whispered. “I was filming on the day Tang Zhen took his own life. We’ve both been busy these past few years, barely seeing each other once or twice a month. I’m deeply saddened by his choice, but what does that have to do with me?”
“Are you pretending not understand?” Guo Xiaoli sneered.
“It’s not about me pretending or not,” Liang Qiuyun raised an eyebrow lightly, looking innocently. He moved closer to Guo Xiaoli, leaving the backrest of the seat and sitting closer to her. “I’m curious, Guo-jie. What accusations do you want to pin on me?”
Guo Xiaoli stared at Liang Qiuyun’s face from such a close distance. For a few seconds, there was complete silence in the car. When she spoke again, she said, “I heard that the famous host Lu Tianzheng wants to invite you for a cameo in his year-end comedy film.”
“Guo-jie is well-informed,” Liang Qiuyun replied. “That’s correct.”
“When did you patch things up and let go of past grievances?” Guo Xiaoli asked.
Liang Qiuyun didn’t like where this conversation was going. “I never had any grievances with Lu Laoshi.”
“No grievances?” Guo Xiaoli chuckled. “Back then, during the dinner hosted by the production company, Lu Laoshi put his hand on our newly debuted young idol. Who was it that went up and punched Lu Laoshi, breaking two of his front teeth? It took me and Mr. Mao three visits to apologize to him to settle the matter.”
Upon hearing this, Liang Qiuyun closed his eyes and smiled to himself. “At that time, I had just debuted and was still immature. Lu Laoshi was highly respected, and he wouldn’t hold a grudge against me.”
Guo Xiaoli looked at him and said, “But Tang Zhen always remembered your kindness.”
Liang Qiuyun replied, “Tang Zhen has always had a good memory.”
“It’s not just a good memory,” Guo Xiaoli’s gaze lowered, and she saw Liang Qiuyun’s eyes beneath his thick eyebrows, with a hint of a smile in his eyes. “Don’t think I didn’t know what you were planning in the past.”
“Guo-jie,” Liang Qiuyun said.
“If I had known about today, I would never have allowed that Hong Kong director to bring you along when he cast Tang Zhen in that movie,” Guo Xiaoli said.
Liang Qiuyun chuckled, “But Tang Zhen won several awards for that film. I didn’t steal any limelight.”
“If you hadn’t been in that movie with him, Tang Zhen wouldn’t have ended up like this today,” Guo Xiaoli said.
Liang Qiuyun stared at Guo Xiaoli’s face, and his smile turned even more sinister. “I’m starting to have trouble understanding what you’re saying.”
“You knew he would take it seriously,” Guo Xiaoli continued.
“Here you go again,” Liang Qiuyun replied.
“Am I wrong?” Guo Xiaoli challenged. “Don’t you know how many times you accompanied him to see doctors?”
“If we follow your logic, Guo Xiaoli,” Liang Qiuyun squinted his eyes, “Tang Zhen worked with so many actresses, and it seems like he loved each and every one of them. He had quite a number of love interests.”
“He worked with so many actresses, and one by one, they all fell for you. Even the ones he casually praised, you pursued, you seduced,” Guo Xiaoli sneered. “Do you think I’m blind?”
“You’re not blind,” Liang Qiuyun said, “When has Guo Xiaoli ever been blind?”
“When you chose me to form a duo with Tang Zhen, it was because you saw that I knew nothing back then and was desperate to debut. As long as you and Tang Zhen gave me a little hint, I would be grateful to you and willing to be Tang Zhen’s supporting act for a lifetime, willing to play extras for Mattias for the rest of my life,” Liang Qiuyun said, then chuckled softly. “Sometimes I wonder, Guo Xiaoli, how did you spot me at first glance? Did I ever offend you?”
Guo Xiaoli’s face turned as black as charcoal. She glared at him intensely. “Are you mentally ill?”
Liang Qiuyun seemed to have heard the funniest joke. “Am I mentally ill?”
“You must be crazy!” Guo Xiaoli said, about to get out of the car, but Liang Qiuyun stopped her.
Outside the window, the hospital entrance was surrounded by journalists who had come down from the upper floors. Liang Qiuyun smiled and tightly held onto Guo Xiaoli’s wrist, which she couldn’t retract. “Tang Zhen’s suicide broke your heart, Guo-jie.”
“I endured for so many years to get to where I am today. Tang Zhen committed suicide… but I haven’t. What did he achieve by killing himself? Guo-jie, open your eyes and see. The real mentally ill person is still lying inside there.”
Guo Xiaoli opened the car door, and the cold night air blew on her face. The blinding flashes of the cameras snapped as they focused on the car Liang Qiuyun had opened. Guo Xiaoli bit her lip tightly and hastily got out of the car. Her face was pale, and unfortunately, Wen Xin happened to be outside the car, walking right into the line of fire.
Wen Xin didn’t know what had happened and approached with her phone in hand. She said, “Guo… Guo-jie—”
“What’s wrong?” Guo Xiaoli asked.
“Qi… Qi Xing called and said that Zike took his passport from the hotel and ran back to China alone in the middle of the night!” Wen Xin said.
Even the incessant flashes of the cameras suddenly quieted down.
Guo Xiaoli’s eyes widened in anger. “…Didn’t he have a lot of work tomorrow?”
“I didn’t finish yet, there’s more…” Wen Xin said, with a bitter expression on her face.
“More?” Guo Xiaoli’s anger trembled.
“He said he’s going to come to the hospital as soon as he lands. He said he wants to see Tang Zhen Laoshi,” Wen Xin said.
Translator’s Note:
1 The term “lǎobǎn” (boss) was initially used to address established Peking Opera actors who no longer relied on theater troupes for employment. They had established their own independent careers. Later, this term was adopted by the entertainment industry, and it is also used to refer to celebrities who have their own studios or production companies.
