Before Han Yi could say another word, Xia Yang had already hung up, leaving only the busy signal in the receiver.
Han Yi put down the phone and gestured to the new secretary, signaling that he could leave.
“Mr. Han, it’s snowing outside. Would you like me to stay a while and take you home after you’re done working?”
“No need.”
“Alright, Mr. Han. I’ll leave then.”
After the secretary left, Han Yi glanced at the time and then looked out the window. The dark night sky was filled with fine, fluttering snowflakes, lightly blanketing the streets below in white. He picked up his phone and hesitated for a moment before sending a message to Xia Yang.
**[Han Yi]: The temperature is dropping tomorrow.**
After sending it, he didn’t immediately exit WeChat. Instead, he opened Xia Yang’s Moments again, looking at the group photo he had already seen. The beautiful young man stood out in the picture, a natural-born star, radiating light and charm.
Xia Yang had said he envied others’ marriages, probably because normal couples are attracted to each other, falling in love and marrying out of affection. Unlike them, who were bound by a contract.
Han Yi’s mind was a chaotic mess, tangled with various thoughts and emotions like a knotted ball of yarn. After waiting for more than half an hour, the coffee on his desk had gone cold, and the snow outside grew heavier. The topmost conversation in his chat list remained silent, with no response.
He could tell that Xia Yang was upset with him. He had some guesses about the reason but couldn’t be sure. It seemed improbable, as it contradicted what he knew. There had to be more to the story.
That night, Han Yi hardly slept.
The heavy snow fell throughout the night and finally stopped by morning. After waking up and washing up, he stood by the floor-to-ceiling window for a while, then picked up his phone to send Xia Yang another message.
**[Han Yi]: Let’s find a time to talk.**
As soon as he sent the message, a notification appeared at the top of the screen: “The other party is typing…”
But after half an hour of typing, the response was only two words.
**[Xia Yang]: Talk about what?**
**[Han Yi]: … I have some questions for you.**
**[Xia Yang]: Aren’t you busy?**
**[Han Yi]: Not busy.**
**[Xia Yang]: Well, I’m very busy. How about this, I’ll flip a coin later, and if it stands on its edge, I’ll talk with you for fifty cents’ worth.**
**[Han Yi]: …**
—
Xia Yang woke up early that day. The entire crew arrived at the film studio before 9 AM. The sun shone weakly through the sparse branches, casting a chill over the scene.
The buildings in the studio were covered with a blanket of snow, with icicles forming along the edges of the roofs and eaves, creating a picturesque post-snow winter scene.
That morning’s outdoor shooting went well for Xia Yang, with most scenes completed in one take. Meanwhile, Li Ke and Lin Yi shivered in the bitter cold, their stiff expressions earning them a scolding from the director.
“What’s wrong with you? Are you the only ones who feel cold? You’re all men; how come Xia Yang can endure it?”
At that moment, Xia Yang was squatting in the snow, drawing hearts with a twig.
“Aren’t you cold, Xia Yang?” Lin Yi, holding a cup of hot coffee, shuffled over to him, tongue numb from the cold. He touched Xia Yang’s costume, finding it as thin as theirs.
Li Ke, out of the director’s sight, stuffed a heating pad into his waist. “In this freezing weather, how do you have the energy to draw hearts on the ground? Anyone who didn’t know better would think you’re foraging for wild vegetables!”
Xia Yang looked up, his cheeks slightly red, with a couple of snowflakes caught in his long, curly eyelashes.
“It’s okay. When you’re in a good mood, everything feels warm,” he said with a grin.
His good mood stemmed from that morning’s WeChat exchange with his “plastic husband.” The feeling of control made him physically content and mentally refreshed. He couldn’t wait to finish filming these scenes and go back to flip a coin.
“Tang Siming, Wang Ze, Xia Yang, head to the set for the next scene,” the director called out.
Xia Yang responded, blowing on his cold, red hands and jogging toward the set.
Inside, he took off his down jacket and changed into his costume, sneezing twice as the temperature dropped sharply.
The set was cold, only slightly warmer than outside, with two small heaters barely providing any warmth unless you were close.
The director came over, looking him up and down. “Are you cold? Do you need a bowl of ginger tea before shooting? Don’t catch a cold.”
“No, I can’t swallow ginger,” Xia Yang said, rubbing his palms together for warmth.
“Alright, let’s get this done quickly so you can rest!”
This scene involved an interrogation. Shen Xing and Xiao Chang brought Lin Yi back to the police station for questioning.
Lin Yi confessed everything—
“That day, Liang Shanyi came to me, saying he was in trouble and needed my help. He supported me financially through college; I owe him. He also promised a reward and an opportunity to study abroad. It was hard to refuse. But I didn’t know what he had done, nor that he was involved in a murder…”
After several rounds of questioning, it was clear that Lin Yi wasn’t directly involved in the crime; he had been used by Liang Shanyi. Forensic evidence showed that the victim, He He, had traces of a banned substance in his nasal mucosa, a drug capable of easily controlling the central nervous system. A few milliliters would render someone completely incapacitated, turning them into a puppet.
Further investigation revealed that Liang Shanyi had been involved in the illegal trade of this substance before he became wealthy. However, because he was a minor at the time and not the main perpetrator, he was not criminally charged, only receiving a warning.
Thus, Liang Shanyi was the culprit behind the crime.
“Liang Shanyi, you illegally possessed and used prohibited drugs and concealed the truth. Do you have any defense for yourself?” Xiao Chang questioned loudly.
Liang Shanyi closed his eyes, speaking calmly, “He He deserved to die. I did use the drug on him, but I didn’t kill him.”
“Cut! Next scene, change the set,” the director called.
The second scene was in the office meeting room.
Xiao Chang, going over several records, fell into deep thought. “Liang Shanyi used illegal drugs and unlawfully detained the victim, but he insists he didn’t kill him.”
“I’ve been thinking about that too. We might have been misled by appearances,” Shen Xing said, standing up and producing a sealed delivery package.
“What’s this?” Xiao Chang asked.
“This morning, a package of Flunitrazepam was delivered to He He’s house,” Shen Xing opened the package, marking a red “X” next to the victim’s name.
“The victim wasn’t killed by Liang Shanyi or Lin You. He killed himself,” Shen Xing explained.
Everyone in the investigation team was stunned. Xiao Chang, pointing at the package in disbelief, asked, “But the sleeping pills weren’t delivered when He He died!”
“True, but his motive is clear. He didn’t take the Flunitrazepam. Remember the ring we found inside him?” Shen Xing spread out the autopsy report, pointing to a photo. His deep eyes were filled with determination. “He intended to use his death to ‘kill’ someone else.”
With that, the truth was revealed. The technical team used 3D animation to reconstruct the entire case.
The day before the incident, Liang Zhengyi used his wife Lin You’s phone to message designer He He, saying she needed the clothes delivered to their villa a day early for a party. When He He arrived, Liang Shanyi, who had set up the situation, detained him in the villa’s basement under the pretense of “trespassing.”
He interrogated He He about his relationship with Lin You, and they had a confrontation. Under the drug’s influence, He He lost consciousness. When he woke up, he found himself naked, in a theater-like setting, with familiar faces in the audience. A video of his humiliating performance was playing on a large screen.
Under this psychological torture, He He broke down. Returning home, he ordered sleeping pills from an unregulated source, though the seller said they would take at least two weeks to arrive.
After a day of mental torment, he chose another method, placing Liang Shanyi’s ring in his body to create the illusion of a fatal sexual assault, hoping to smear the instigator with his death.
But he never realized that the ring wasn’t Liang Shanyi’s. It was a gift from Liang Shanyi to Lin You on her birthday, with her name engraved inside.
“Cut, great job, everyone. Congratulations to Lin Yi on wrapping up his scenes!” the director announced.
“Congratulations, congratulations.”
Everyone clapped, with Bai Xiaoxiao presenting Lin Yi with a bouquet, accompanied by envious and jealous looks.
“Oh, I want to finish too. Poor my husband, just got married and left at home, sitting in the cold,” Bai Xiaoxiao sighed.
“You’ll be the last to finish, and that’s final!” the director showed no mercy.
Bai Xiaoxiao gritted her teeth, shooting daggers at him with her eyes. Middle-aged bachelors are indeed heartless!
As noon approached, snow began to fall again. The director invited the whole crew for a lamb hot pot, delaying the afternoon shoot.
Xia Yang wrapped up in his down jacket and asked the director for leave.
“Director Guo, I’m feeling a bit tired. I’d like to sleep in the car for a while. Please call me when you return to the set.”
“Are you feeling unwell?” the director asked.
“No, just didn’t sleep well last night. Need a nap.”
The director glanced at him but didn’t push, “Alright, go rest. I’ll have Xiaojun bring you some food.”
Back in the van, Xia Yang cranked up the heater and hugged a hot water bottle. He hadn’t felt cold earlier, but now it seemed to seep into his bones, a chill gnawing at him from the inside, accompanied by a pounding headache.
He drank a large cup of hot water, trying to stay awake, praying fervently.
Please, Buddha, don’t let him get sick. Han Yi was still waiting to talk, and he hadn’t flipped the coin yet!
As he prayed, his eyes grew heavy, and he drifted off to sleep.
He didn’t know how much time had passed when he vaguely heard the door open.
“Xia! Time to eat, Xia!” His assistant’s voice faintly reached his ears. Xia Yang stirred, weakly waving a hand.
“Xia’s face is so red,” Xiaojun said, putting down the food box and feeling Xia Yang’s forehead. “Oh my god, he’s burning up! Xia has a fever!”
Tang Siming, alarmed, felt Xia Yang’s hands, then quickly got into the driver’s seat.
“You go inform the director and buy some medicine. I’ll take him back to the hotel to rest.”
“Got it, Mr. Tang.”
Tang Siming buckled his seatbelt and drove out of the studio. While stopped at a red light, he pulled out his phone and sent a WeChat message to Han Yi.
**[Oscar Nominee Tang]: Mr. Han, are you busy? Can you talk right now?**
He didn’t receive a reply for quite some time. As he accelerated towards the hotel, his phone finally pinged.
**[Han Yi]: Busy, can’t talk.**
Tang Siming sighed, having expected this response. It wasn’t unusual for the workaholic to be unavailable during work hours.
He switched to a Bluetooth headset and sent a voice message.
“Oh, it’s nothing serious. Just letting you know Xia suddenly has a fever. Don’t worry, Mr. Han. I’m taking him back to the hotel, and the assistant is getting medicine.”
No sooner had the message sent than Han Yi’s call came in.
Tang Siming answered, hearing Han Yi’s low, urgent voice, “Send me the room number. I’m on my way.”
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