Su Shengbai, thinking Luo Ding might be reminiscing about their old group’s breakup, grew visibly uncomfortable. He really wanted this job, as he had lost a lot of offers after his company had pushed too many projects on him before. Despite the low pay, this film offered significant screen time, and a well-acted villain could win over the audience. He wasn’t short on money, but without steady exposure or solid work to back him up, his fame would soon fade. The situation with “The Assassin” had become a mess, and he couldn’t afford to let his career die with it.
Luo Ding landing a role in this film was not good news for him.
After a long silence, Su Shengbai finally muttered, “It’s been a while.”
Just those few words instantly solidified Luo Ding’s resolve.
He turned to look at Su Shengbai. His pale lips and evasive gaze reeked of guilt. Of course, the one who should be feeling guilty wasn’t Luo Ding. Why should he be the one avoiding anything? If anyone should leave, it was Su Shengbai. If no better offer came along, this film was perfect for Luo Ding—why should he give it up because Su Shengbai was involved?
Su Shengbai was just a supporting role. Nearly half of the film’s shots would revolve around Luo Ding. Giving up such a great opportunity just because of Su Shengbai’s presence would be completely irrational, counterproductive to his goal of living a better life.
Su Shengbai, sensing Luo Ding’s sharp gaze, grew increasingly uncomfortable.
Finally, Luo Ding asked calmly, “How have you been lately?”
That simple question nearly brought Su Shengbai to tears. How had he been? He couldn’t even remember the last time someone asked him that. The past few months had been terrible. The obstacles kept piling up, especially with the ongoing chaos surrounding “The Assassin.” First, the funding fell through, and then rumors of his and Xu Zhen’s scandals started swirling. Just as they were bracing themselves to confront the backlash head-on, the situation escalated so quickly that they were forced to hide from the public. Xu Zhen’s mental state was deteriorating, and Su Shengbai had to live with him. Every time Xu obsessively cleaned the array of Cao Dingkun’s framed photos on the coffee table, Su Shengbai felt a chill run down his spine. Cao’s smiling face, preserved behind plastic and glass, stared back at him with dark eyes and a calm expression—eerily so. Su Shengbai felt cursed, like Cao’s vengeful spirit had attached itself to him, cursing every move he made. He even considered hiring a feng shui master. For someone who had always been a materialist, he found himself questioning whether Cao’s ghost was haunting him, sabotaging his every step with its malignant aura.
That thought was driving him mad. He vividly remembered the moment he pushed Cao off that cliff, the man’s face contorted in rage as he hurled insults through the car window. That same face haunted his dreams, replaying the scene where Cao viciously beat Xu with a baseball bat. Now, it seemed like that same sinister figure was following him everywhere, perhaps even perched on his sofa’s armrest at this very moment.
Suddenly jolted, Su Shengbai pulled his arm away from the armrest, as if it had burned him. He wanted to vent, to complain, but didn’t even know where to begin. Maybe it was because of the impact Luo Ding had left on him during the anniversary banquet at “Fashion,” but in Su Shengbai’s mind, no matter what conflicts arose between them, Luo Ding would always be the person who had cared for him the most. There were so many things Su Shengbai couldn’t tell anyone, especially not Luo Ding. He didn’t want to look any weaker in his eyes.
Before Su Shengbai could answer, Luo Ding’s phone rang. It was Duan Xiubo.
There was a rush of wind in the background, suggesting Duan was driving. “Where are you? I’ll come get you. Have you eaten yet?”
Luo Ding glanced at Su Shengbai before stepping away and speaking quietly, “I’m at Director Tang Rui’s studio, not yet.”
“Tang Rui?” Duan seemed to take a moment to recall who that was. “What are you doing there? Do you know the address?”
“West Ring Road,” Luo Ding provided before explaining, “I’m here to discuss a new project.”
After ending the call, Luo Ding returned to his seat, and Su Shengbai was staring at him intently.
“Who was that?”
Luo Ding replied nonchalantly, “A friend.”
“A friend?” Su Shengbai recalled the softened look in Luo Ding’s eyes and the gentle tone he used on the phone. His heart clenched before sinking into despair. It was as if something precious was slipping through his fingers, and no matter how hard he tried to hold on, it kept slipping away faster and faster until there was nothing left.
A friend…
As Luo Ding got into Duan Xiubo’s car, he could still see Su Shengbai standing at the door, clinging to the frame and watching him leave. That look on his face was priceless. If this had been the old Luo Ding, he’d have definitely gone back to comfort Su Shengbai.
Duan Xiubo, catching the sight in the rearview mirror, forced a smile. “Why was Su Shengbai there?”
Luo Ding didn’t bother hiding his disdain. “Don’t even get me started. Tang Rui offered me a really good role, and I like the script. But when I came here to finalize things, I found out… guess who’s playing the second or third lead? It’s Su Shengbai.”
Duan’s face remained expressionless. “Oh?”
“Oh, what? Speak clearly,” Luo Ding shot back.
Duan finally dropped his fake smile and said, “So you didn’t feel any sparks when you two met again? You don’t have any lingering feelings for him? Because from the way you looked, it seemed like you weren’t too pleased…”
Luo Ding sighed. “What’s going on in that head of yours all the time?”
Without warning, Duan Xiubo sharply turned the wheel, driving into an underground parking garage. After swiping a card to enter, he found a spot and turned off the car, then swiftly leaned over to Luo Ding in the passenger seat, grabbing and kissing him.
Luo Ding had known he was upset the moment Duan stepped on the gas earlier and even knew why. So when Duan moved in to kiss him, Luo Ding instinctively held him, responding to his kisses while gently stroking the back of his head.
Duan cradled Luo Ding’s face with one hand and pressed his other hand to the back of Luo Ding’s head. The gentle soothing strokes through his hair felt wonderful, so he stroked Luo Ding’s hair in return. It was soft, fragrant with shampoo, and felt amazing.
Little by little, his feelings of frustration began to melt away, replaced by a sense of contentment, thanks to the full-hearted acceptance from the person in his arms.
In a quiet voice, Duan murmured, “I don’t want you two to meet.”
“I don’t want to meet him either,” Luo Ding replied, pressing a soft kiss to Duan’s lips. His eyes were gentle, glowing like streams of light in the darkness. “But avoiding him forever isn’t a solution. I haven’t done anything wrong. It’s Su Shengbai who should be feeling guilty, not me. I see him as nothing more than a stranger now.”
“No,” Duan protested softly.
“Don’t be unreasonable,” Luo Ding caressed Duan’s cheek. “If I avoided him, would that make you happy?”
“Why should you avoid him?” Duan grew even more agitated but gradually calmed down after a moment of inner struggle.
“Su Shengbai really is scum!” he cursed, but when he saw that Luo Ding’s expression remained unchanged, his hand slid from Luo Ding’s arm to his wrist, his fingers lightly brushing over the scar there.
The image of Su Shengbai clinging to the doorframe, watching Luo Ding leave with puppy eyes, flashed through Duan Xiubo’s mind. His pitiful, lovesick gaze had clearly been begging Luo Ding to turn around. Duan had locked eyes with Su Shengbai in the rearview mirror, though Su hadn’t noticed him. Still, Duan hadn’t missed the reluctant longing in Su Shengbai’s eyes as he stared after their car!
In Duan’s eyes, Su Shengbai was nothing more than a ticking time bomb. Luo Ding was so wonderful, of course Su regretted ever abandoning him. Now Su was trying to play the pity card, hoping Luo would come back to him. Where was all this remorse when it actually mattered?
No matter what Su Shengbai did, Duan Xiubo couldn’t stand him.
Since Luo Ding had been upfront about his past with Su Shengbai from the start, Duan had initially felt reassured by his openness. However, some concerns still lingered. It was similar to how Ji Jiahe had once harbored feelings for Luo Ding—even though there was nothing between them, the memory of it still made Duan feel uneasy. The fear of losing his place in Luo Ding’s life gnawed at him.
To mitigate that fear, Duan had tried to keep Luo Ding and Ji Jiahe from crossing paths, and whenever they were on set together, he stuck close by. But the tighter Duan held on, the more anxious he became.
Of course, if Su Shengbai truly had any ulterior motives, avoiding him this time wouldn’t be enough to stop him. The entertainment industry was small, and chances to work together would inevitably arise. The only way to completely avoid Su Shengbai would be for Luo Ding to quit acting altogether, but Duan wasn’t crazy enough to suggest something like that.
He leaned in and kissed Luo Ding’s lips, trailing tender kisses across his mouth until his frown gave way to a soft smile. Though Luo Ding was younger, Duan always felt as if he was the one being cared for in their relationship. It was a strange, unfamiliar feeling, but one he cherished deeply. It wasn’t quite the same as how one might feel with an elder, but it was something even more special. Yet, it stirred a primal urge within him—to completely possess Luo Ding, to hide him away where no one else could see or touch him.
This impulse was utterly irrational. Duan had always assumed that only lovesick teenagers experienced such extreme emotions, but just imagining a world where Luo Ding belonged solely to him sent sparks flying in his mind, as if the stars had aligned and fireworks were exploding everywhere.
He had to suppress this madness. Luo Ding might look young, but he was more old-fashioned than he appeared, and Duan was sure such thoughts would scare him away.
As Luo Ding gently stroked his hair, Duan playfully cupped Luo Ding’s head, smoothing down his bangs with a loving touch that made Luo Ding close his eyes in contentment.
“Feeling better now?” Luo Ding asked with a smile. Sometimes, Duan acted like a child, but Luo Ding found himself surprisingly fond of it. Even though Duan could be a bit clingy, most of the time, it just made his heart feel warm.
Duan kissed the tip of Luo Ding’s nose. “Much better.”
“And you’re not worried about Su Shengbai anymore?”
“I still worry about him!” Duan admitted. “I’m worried about him, not you.”
Luo Ding was clearly amused, wrapping his arms around Duan’s head and planting a kiss on him. Duan, seizing the moment, slipped his tongue into Luo Ding’s mouth, their kiss deepening as he rubbed against him suggestively.
“Stop it…” Luo Ding mumbled breathlessly, turning his head away to escape the heated kisses that Duan pressed along his neck and ears. “We’re in a parking lot.”
Duan felt like he was losing his mind. Why hadn’t they just gone straight home? Now they were stuck here, unable to do anything.
Once again, Luo Ding’s gentle hand stroked the back of his head, calming him down. His anger and frustration melted away, replaced by warmth as he muttered against Luo Ding’s ear, “What’s the name of that movie you were talking about earlier?”
Luo Ding, his breath still uneven, replied while massaging the back of Duan’s neck, “Something like ‘Supermodel Era’? ‘Male Model Era’? Whatever… something about the modeling industry.”
Duan quickly grabbed Luo Ding’s hand to stop him from teasing him any further. Luo Ding could be so infuriating, casually doing things that drove him wild. When Duan held his hand, Luo Ding looked at him in confusion, unaware of what had sparked Duan’s sudden excitement.
At that moment, Duan realized just how smart he had been. When Luo Ding had been looking for a place to live, Duan had made sure to secure him an apartment right in the same building. Now Luo Ding had even given him a keycard, so getting from Duan’s place to Luo Ding’s only took a matter of seconds, making it feel like they were practically living together.
They had settled into a routine where Luo Ding usually ate at Duan’s place, and despite both of them being terrible cooks, even sharing instant noodles felt cozy. After Luo Ding firmly rejected Duan’s suggestion that they sleep in the same bed, Duan sighed, savoring the taste of their farewell kiss before pulling out his phone to call Mi Rui.
Mi Rui groaned. “Boss, I haven’t even adjusted to the time difference yet! I just fell asleep!”
“Stop whining.” Duan had no sympathy for him. “Remember that movie about the modeling industry? The one by Tang Rui, the director? Well, I just accepted a role in it!”
Mi Rui was stunned for a moment before exclaiming, “Boss, I only mentioned that as a joke! The pay isn’t even worth considering, and the role isn’t that great. I just brought it up casually. Why are you suddenly interested?”
“Quit wasting time!” Duan snapped, annoyed. “Just sign the contract already. Get some rest, and don’t be late for work tomorrow.”
In his pitch-black room, with the curtains tightly drawn, Mi Rui stared at the screen, his dark circles deepening as the words “Call Ended” flashed on the display.
His lips twitched, and after a moment, he softly muttered a heartfelt message to his esteemed boss—
“Goddamn you, Duan Xiubo.”
🎄Christmas surprise ! : Not one, not 2… not 3.. but 5 PAGBWMH updates today for you !🎁🎁
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