Someone knocked on the door, pulling him from his thoughts. Luo Ding sat up. “Who is it?”
There was a brief pause outside before a soft voice replied, “It’s me.”
It was Duan Xiubo.
Luo Ding instantly regretted not pretending he wasn’t in the room.
“I need to talk to you. Can I come in?” Duan Xiubo asked.
Resigned, Luo Ding got up and opened the door. Duan Xiubo stood there, holding a small medicine box. He stepped inside, flicked on the lights, locked the door behind him, and sat down on Luo Ding’s bed as if he were in his own home.
“I brought you some cold medicine, just in case,” Duan Xiubo said, breaking the silence first, his eyes watching Luo Ding carefully. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks,” Luo Ding replied curtly. “You can leave now.”
“I’m sorry,” Duan Xiubo didn’t move, edging closer. He stared directly into Luo Ding’s eyes. “I’m sorry for what happened on set.”
Luo Ding remained silent.
“I shouldn’t have done that. I let my emotions get the better of me, and I affected the shoot. That was wrong of me.”
Duan Xiubo’s apology was so sincere and straightforward that Luo Ding found himself at a loss for words. If he continued to dwell on it, he’d seem petty, but letting it go so easily didn’t sit right either.
Seeing no response, Duan Xiubo moved even closer, lowering his head. “I was wrong.”
He leaned in, closer to Luo Ding. “I was wrong.”
His eyes locked on Luo Ding’s. “I was wrong.”
“I admit it.”
“Alright, alright, alright!!” Duan Xiubo was practically on top of him now, and Luo Ding felt that if he remained unmoved any longer, he’d be superhuman. He pushed Duan Xiubo away and slid further from him. “I get it. I’m not mad. I accept your apology. Just don’t come any closer.”
Duan Xiubo looked at him and smiled.
The smile grew wider, revealing a row of pearly white teeth. Seeing Luo Ding angrily insist he wasn’t upset when it was obvious he was, made Duan’s heart swell with a sweetness that eclipsed his earlier anxiety.
“I’m serious. I shouldn’t have touched you during the shoot. I got a bit carried away…”
“Stop it,” Luo Ding interrupted, rubbing his temples, feeling a headache coming on. “I’ve accepted your apology. Duan-ge, please, go now. I need to rest.”
Duan Xiubo looked at him and sighed softly.
“Why are you always like this…,” he muttered, his voice gentle and resigned, as though he was scolding a picky cat for not eating its food.
Luo Ding lay back down, turning his back on him, and raised a hand to cover his face. “Enough.”
“You know what I want to say?”
“I know!” Luo Ding sat up abruptly, exasperated, glaring at Duan Xiubo. It felt like dealing with an unruly child who had come to wreck his house but couldn’t be punished too harshly. Couldn’t Duan see that he was trying to avoid this conversation? Why keep pushing? What was the point of talking about it? There was nothing more to say!
But when his gaze met Duan’s, filled with tenderness and patience, Luo Ding’s anger deflated like a balloon pricked by a needle, leaving him feeling strangely empty.
“I really don’t want to talk about this right now.” His voice softened as he rubbed his forehead, trying to reason with Duan. “Things are fine as they are. Let’s not make it more complicated. Go back.”
“It’s not fine,” Duan replied stubbornly. “Why are you hiding? Isn’t it exhausting pretending all the time?”
“I’m not tired.”
Duan was momentarily stunned into silence, blinking as he tried to process Luo Ding’s straightforward response. After a long pause, he found his voice again. “Is it because… you like someone else?”
Luo Ding shook his head.
“Because I’m a man?”
Another shake of the head.
Duan Xiubo’s lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at Luo Ding for a long moment. Then he reached out, grabbing Luo Ding’s wrist and flipping it over to reveal the scar on his arm. “Is it because of him?”
Luo Ding tried to pull his hand back, but Duan’s grip was too strong. The more he tried to withdraw, the tighter Duan held on.
He nodded, then shook his head. “Don’t ask anymore.”
“Was it Su Shengbai?” Duan muttered, almost to himself.
“Why do you care so much?” Luo Ding sighed in exasperation. For a man in his thirties, Duan was acting like a child. He was relentless, demanding answers to questions that didn’t need to be asked. Luo Ding’s reluctance to get involved in another relationship stemmed from the scars left by Su Shengbai and Xu Zhen, but how could he explain that? Any question of trust and loyalty would inevitably lead to an obvious answer, wouldn’t it?
It *was* Su Shengbai. Of course, it was Su Shengbai! Duan Xiubo’s mind buzzed with frustration, his anger mounting. What kind of judgment was that? Su Shengbai? Really? That fake, money-grubbing man, who wasn’t even that good-looking, with his weak physique and questionable character? What kind of taste did Luo Ding have?
“Did you try to kill yourself because of him?” His inner outburst faded, allowing reason to return. Duan asked coolly, “Because he broke up the group? Do you still have feelings for him? Is that why you’re still so nice to him?”
“I don’t like him anymore,” Luo Ding answered seriously. “But he made me lose faith in relationships.”
“Was it really that bad?!” Duan exclaimed, feeling wronged. “He’s the one who screwed up, so why am I the one paying for it?!”
Luo Ding glanced at him. Where did this man get his confidence from? Was he so sure that if not for Su Shengbai, Luo Ding would have accepted him? Getting rejected wasn’t that uncommon, was it? And yet, here Duan was, acting as if being turned down was some kind of grave offense. His self-assurance was almost laughable.
Though frustrated, Duan felt somewhat relieved. If Luo Ding wasn’t hung up on Su Shengbai anymore, he could work with that. Luo Ding wasn’t the type to lie—if he didn’t want Duan to know the truth, he would have just stayed silent. But since he was willing to explain things, Duan trusted his words.
The past was beyond his control, and there was no use getting angry over events that had happened before he’d entered Luo Ding’s life.
Seeing Duan about to leave, Luo Ding, feeling guilty, stopped him.
“Duan-ge, I’m sorry,” Luo Ding said earnestly. “You’re a really good person.”
“But what good does that do if you don’t like me?”
Even after Duan had left, the door clicking shut behind him, Luo Ding remained seated in bed, unmoving.
*I do like you…* he thought, letting out a soft sigh.
But not enough to throw everything away for it.
*******
The filming of *Blades III* was grueling, keeping both men so busy that there was no time to dwell on their personal feelings.
Duan Xiubo remained as warm and friendly as ever, showing no sign of being affected by his failed confession. His interactions with Luo Ding were natural and easy, though he no longer tried to initiate any overly intimate contact.
For Luo Ding, this was a relief, though deep down, a small part of him felt an inexplicable sense of loss.
As Christmas approached and the year neared its end, it was once again a peak period for actors. Both the *Tang Legend* and *Crouching Dragon* production teams sent out invitations for promotions, and Luo Ding’s EP remained popular, earning him a nomination for the year-end Chinese Music Awards in late December. Coupled with the ongoing production of *Blades III* and the need to promote the film, his schedule was so packed that even splitting himself in two wouldn’t have been enough to cover everything. Wu Fangyuan and Gu Yaxing spent most of their time trying to create a manageable itinerary for him.
This at least allowed Luo Ding some respite.
Work kept him busy, leaving little time for personal matters, which meant he didn’t have to worry too much about his complicated relationship with Duan Xiubo. Although Duan remained perfectly professional and friendly, there was still an underlying tension between them, making things slightly awkward whenever they were alone together.
Just before Christmas, the *Blades III* crew finally wrapped up filming for the year. As soon as they were given their break, Wu Fangyuan booked the next available flight, ready to take Luo Ding back home.
Their time was limited, and the film’s production couldn’t afford any delays.
Sitting in the airport lounge, Luo Ding absentmindedly scrolled through his phone. As the year drew to a close, most entertainment news focused on the upcoming Spring Festival film releases. He figured that *Crouching Dragon* would be one of the films competing for a slice of the holiday box office. *Tang Legend*, meanwhile, was set to begin airing on New Year’s Day, and thanks to several promotional events with Zheng Kezhen, audiences were already expressing high anticipation for the show’s premiere.
A shadow fell over him, growing closer until it stopped by his side. Luo Ding caught the familiar scent of wool and tobacco, his brows lifting in surprise as he looked up to see Duan Xiubo sitting down next to him, masked but unmistakable.
“Duan-ge?!”
“Leaving without waiting for me?” Duan’s smile was warm, yet his eyes held a complex emotion that was hard to read. “I’m going back to promote *Crouching Dragon* too.”
Luo Ding felt a pang of guilt. He had deliberately avoided asking about Duan’s schedule, hoping to put some distance between them. Since he hadn’t accepted Duan’s feelings, he didn’t want to string him along, letting him play the role of a backup.
After exchanging a few pleasantries, the two lapsed into silence, each focused on their phones as if they weighed a thousand pounds and were impossible to lift.
Mi Rui, who was chewing gum and observing from the side, was practically bursting with curiosity but kept a neutral expression, not wanting to reveal anything. Glancing past Duan and Luo Ding, he spotted Wu Fangyuan, busy with his notebook and muttering under his breath as he jotted down notes. Mi Rui sighed inwardly. The dumber you are, the simpler the world seems.
On the plane, Duan Xiubo passed through the aisle on his way to the restroom. As he walked by, his gaze landed on Luo Ding, who was fast asleep by the window, bundled up in a blanket with his sleep mask on. The window shade was still up, and the sunlight bathed his delicate skin, making it look almost translucent.
Duan’s steps faltered, and he paused, letting out a soft sigh.
Luo Ding had lost weight again. Over the past few months, their relationship had grown strained, and Duan didn’t dare show the same level of concern he once had. But even without speaking, he had noticed the subtle changes in Luo Ding’s daily routine. Watching him pour all his energy into the production, Duan’s frustration had slowly been replaced by a deep sense of heartache.
Luo Ding shifted uncomfortably in his sleep, his arm trapped beneath the blanket.
Duan bent down, gently loosening the blanket to free his arm. After a moment of hesitation, he also pulled the window shade down, shielding him from the bright sunlight. With one last lingering glance, he turned and walked away.
Somehow, word had spread while they were waiting at the airport, and by the time they landed, a crowd of excited fans had gathered at the arrival gate. When Wu Fangyuan returned to inform Luo Ding that the fan area was packed, he wasn’t surprised. After all, this had become routine by now.
Duan Xiubo passed him, walking with Mi Rui toward the VIP exit. After taking a few steps, he stopped, turned around, and asked, “Why aren’t you leaving?”
“Duan-ge, are you taking the VIP exit?” Luo Ding pointed to the regular exit. “There are fans waiting for me. You should go ahead through the VIP gate. I won’t be joining you.”
Duan’s heart skipped a beat. He glanced at Mi Rui, who was still on the phone with their team, and then smiled. “What a coincidence. My fans are waiting at the regular exit too. If I just slip out through the VIP gate, they’ll say I’m being pretentious. Looks like I’ll have to take the regular exit too.”
“…” Luo Ding shot a suspicious glance at Mi Rui, but seeing him still on the phone, he put his doubts to rest. There was no reason for Duan to lie to him.
Since they were both going through the same gate, it seemed pointless to walk separately. They ended up walking side by side, with Wu Fangyuan leading the way.
Mi Rui wiped the sweat from his forehead. The assistant from the company had warned him that the regular exit was packed with Luo Ding’s fans and that they should sneak Duan out quietly to avoid causing a commotion. Looking back at the situation just a few months ago, when Luo Ding could still walk the streets without being recognized, Mi Rui marveled at how quickly things had changed.
But where was Duan?
As soon as they stepped out, both Duan Xiubo and Luo Ding froze, their smiles momentarily stiffening. Wu Fangyuan’s signature blonde hair had become recognizable to fans, and the moment they saw him, the relatively quiet crowd erupted in excitement.
And then Duan Xiubo and Luo Ding emerged together.
For a brief moment, there was silence.
Everyone stared at the pair walking side by side. The first glance naturally fell on Luo Ding, but then, as people noticed the tall, robust man in the wool coat next to him, their eyes widened in disbelief.
D-D-D-D-D-D-D-Duan Xiubo!!!!!!
What on earth was going on?! They had taken the same flight back?! And they were walking out together, so close to each other, and they were both smiling!!!!!
The fans, trembling with shock, felt as though they had been handed a massive chunk of sugar too big to swallow. But after confirming that the scene before them was real, they exploded—
“Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!! Luo Ding!!!!! Duan Xiubo!!!!!!”
Duan Xiubo glanced toward the loudest group of fans. One of them, a masked girl holding an ultra-professional camera, was furiously snapping pictures of him. He hesitated for a moment before his smile widened. Placing a hand on Luo Ding’s shoulder, he pointed toward the fans, then, without a second thought, pulled him closer, and they waved at the cameras together.
“Ahhhhhhhh!!!! He’s holding him!!!! Duan-ge, you’re amazing!!!!!!”
A group of bloodshot fans screamed, while Luo Ding, initially confused, quickly remembered the existence of CP (ship) fans. As he looked around at the hungry, predatory stares directed his way, his body began to tense up, inch by inch.
It felt like a chicken chick being cornered by a pack of hungry weasels.
—
The author has something to say: *Bracing for the storm…*
Sorry, due to recent restrictions, I’ve been warned that I can only write about intimacy above the neck…
So, forgive me, please.
Keep me fueled with caffeine! Support me on Ko-fi! ★~(◡‿◡✿)
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