Novel schedule on pause, Rain ran awaaaaaay ! See you next week, to resume some series !!

REI : Chapter 83.2

“Of course I know!” Tang Rui shot him a look. “You think I haven’t done my research on the two of them? I searched their names online, found a forum, found a fan club. After looking through all that, I got it. You think I don’t know how to use the internet?”

 

The assistant director: “…”

 

The producer: “…”

 

The producer straightened up in disbelief. “Director Tang… you go on fan forums?”

 

“I’ve even read some of their fanfiction,” Tang Rui said, rolling his eyes at them both. Did they think he was some old, out-of-touch fogey? Sure, he was more traditional, but in the entertainment industry, you had to stay up-to-date. 

 

The producer was quiet for a while, using her fan to cover her mouth as she glanced over at Luo Ding and Duan Xiubo. She couldn’t help but wonder aloud, “Director Tang, do you think they might actually be… you know, in that kind of relationship?”

 

The assistant director quickly leaned in, curious to hear more.

 

Tang Rui snorted. “Of course not. If they were really together, they’d be avoiding each other like the plague. You’ve both seen how it works in the industry. If someone’s gay, they’ll keep their distance in public, especially from their supposed partner. You see those two? They don’t hide anything. Hell, they act so close it’s almost too much.”

 

The producer thought about it and sighed. “You’re probably right. If they were really together, they wouldn’t be so open about it. There’s no way they’d risk it.”

 

In every corner of the entertainment industry, it was an unspoken rule: even straight couples would hide their relationships until they were exposed by the media. How much more cautious would a same-sex couple need to be? Luo Ding and Duan Xiubo’s public displays of affection only made sense if they were just close friends.

 

In one of the bar scenes, Luo Ding’s character had to drink to drown his sorrows.

 

Through the crowd, his gaze fell on Duan Xiubo, and a brief smile flickered across his face before quickly disappearing.

 

In the dim lighting, Song Yuan sat at the bar, staring at a glass of golden liquor. The fat, round ice ball inside sparkled under the lights, casting prismatic reflections that danced across his face, highlighting the intensity in his eyes.

 

The bar wasn’t too crowded, and the music was mellow, but in the distance, there was a bustling group of party-goers. Song Yuan turned his head slightly, gazing out into the distance, a look of confusion clouding his face.

 

Even from behind, you could feel his loneliness. The harsh reality of life clashed with his dreams—endless training, hopeless prospects, peers who compromised their integrity and climbed the ladder while he refused to conform. His trainers told him that success depended on his own effort, but now, it felt like every step forward was met with thorns and pain.

 

He was still young, highly educated, talented, and strikingly handsome—so many choices lay before him.

 

Should he… just give up?

 

His drink sat mostly untouched, ice half-melted, as he finally made a decision. Sometimes, knowing when to give up wasn’t a sign of weakness, but of wisdom.

 

He downed the drink in one gulp, his eyes tinged with a deep sense of loss.

 

Suddenly, a figure appeared beside him, sitting down with a cool, raspy voice: “I’ll have what he’s having.”

 

Song Yuan was already tipsy, squinting at the newcomer for a moment before his brows furrowed. “…Brother Chi.” The word “brother” came out through gritted teeth, reluctant and annoyed.

 

Chi Yong glanced at him, barely acknowledging him with a sideways look, making no effort to engage.

 

Song Yuan didn’t feel like arguing either. After today, their paths would never cross again, and it would be fine to part as strangers. Dealing with Chi Yong, a walking bundle of nerves, had been enough bad luck for a lifetime.

 

As Song Yuan got up to leave, the bartender called out, “Sir, you haven’t paid your bill yet…”

 

Song Yuan froze, face turning red as he slowly turned back and fumbled for his wallet, mumbling an apology. Chi Yong let out a derisive snort, making Song Yuan glance sharply at him, just in time to catch the mocking gleam in his eyes.

 

Whether it was the alcohol or pent-up frustration, Song Yuan slammed his wallet onto the bar, his voice cold: “What the hell are you laughing at?”

 

“…?” Chi Yong looked up at him in disbelief.

 

“You’ve got no manners.” Song Yuan leaned in, his tone sharp as he unleashed months of pent-up anger, “I’ve tolerated you long enough. Do you even know how much people can’t stand you? Always smirking and rolling your eyes. What a waste of a good face. You think being snarky makes you clever? Still stuck in your rebellious phase?”

 

His attitude screamed “I’m ready to fight,” and the bartender, sensing danger, quickly made himself scarce. Chi Yong remained silent, though his expression grew increasingly dangerous. “…What did you just say?” His tone dripped with anger.

 

Song Yuan let out a cold laugh, looking down at him. “I’m leaving anyway, so no matter how you threaten me, I’m not scared! At worst, we’ll fight—what can you even do to me?”

 

Chi Yong seemed to latch onto the wrong part of his statement. “You’re leaving?!”

 

Song Yuan’s bravado immediately deflated like a punctured balloon. He stood there dazed for a moment, then abruptly turned to leave.

 

Chi Yong grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

 

Song Yuan glared at him. “Do you really want to fight?” he said, rolling up his sleeves.

 

“Idiot.” Chi Yong didn’t take him seriously at all and only cared about his question. “Where are you going?”

 

“…I studied computer science in undergrad. I’ll probably go to an IT company,” Song Yuan replied gloomily, unable to sustain his earlier anger against Chi Yong’s indifferent attitude.

 

“Coward!” Chi Yong sneered.

 

“You don’t understand anything!” Song Yuan exploded at being called a coward. “I just refuse to conform! I came here to chase a dream, not to be someone’s kept pet! If I really gave in to the rules, that would make me a true coward!”

 

Chi Yong immediately understood what was going on and pulled him to sit down. Frowning, he asked, “Your mentor took you to one of those dinner parties?”

 

Song Yuan felt ashamed and refused to answer.

 

Chi Yong, familiar with such situations, sneered coldly. “Do you really think being kept will guarantee success? The trainees who’ve stayed on all relied on their own abilities. External factors are just personal choices—at best, shortcuts. Do you think you can’t match them just because you lack backing?”

 

Song Yuan caught the subtext and grew furious. “What’s that supposed to mean?!”

 

Chi Yong snorted. “People like you are really unlikable. No wonder so many dislike you. You’re self-righteous and hypocritical—claiming modeling is your dream but refusing to put in the effort. You can’t pose naturally in photos, your expressions are stiff as a statue, and your runway walk is a disaster. If you stayed, that would be strange.”

 

Song Yuan raised his fist to hit him, but Chi Yong caught it, pulling him closer. With the alcohol fueling his movements, Song Yuan nearly fell into his arms.

 

With his head resting against Chi Yong’s shoulder, Song Yuan suddenly felt tired. “Am I really that terrible?”

 

Chi Yong laughed coldly. “Of course. Why else would I find you so annoying?”

 

Song Yuan looked aggrieved. “But I’ve tried my best.”

 

Chi Yong lowered his gaze to the back of his head, took a sip from his glass, and made no comment. “Really?”

 

Song Yuan said nothing more.

 

“I’ve never once considered leaving since joining the company,” Chi Yong said, suddenly speaking more, mocking Song Yuan’s worldview with disdain. “Being a model is the only future I’ve allowed myself—there’s no way out.”

 

Song Yuan looked at him blankly.

 

Chi Yong motioned to the seat with his chin. “Want a drink?”

 

Song Yuan’s expression softened as the hostility in his eyes faded. With a sigh, he sat down beside Chi Yong, grabbed his glass, and drained it in one go.

 

“You haven’t improved one bit since you started.”

 

“I have!”

 

“Okay, maybe a tiny bit. You lack talent. No matter how hard you try, this is your limit. Leaving might actually be better for you.”

 

“Who said that!”

 

“Heh.”

 

“I’ll prove you wrong and stay!” Song Yuan, clutching his glass, looked as though he might cry, filled with defiance and frustration. He sniffled, but after a moment, his teary eyes returned to normal.

 

Tipsy, he leaned his head against Chi Yong’s shoulder and nuzzled slightly.

 

“Chi Ge.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Heh.”

 

As soon as the director yelled “Cut,” Duan Xiubo’s disdainful expression vanished, and his hand, which was not touching Luo Ding’s body, quickly lifted up and wrapped itself around Luo Ding’s back.

 

Luo Ding’s earlier nuzzle had almost melted Duan Xiubo’s heart. He struggled hard to keep from smiling during the take—heavens knew how much effort it took to stop his face from twitching!

 

Luo Ding laughed softly as he patted Duan Xiubo’s back. “Don’t mess around—everyone’s watching.”

 

Duan Xiubo glanced at the sound equipment. Seeing it had been removed, he lowered his head and kissed Luo Ding’s ear in a corner where no one could see. To outsiders, it just looked like they were whispering.

 

Luo Ding jolted, looking at him disapprovingly.

 

Duan Xiubo seemed bolder now. In the past, he’d immediately apologize if Luo Ding reacted this way. But now, he just grinned cheekily and spun around on a stool.

 

When the makeup artist came to touch up Luo Ding’s face, Duan Xiubo sat nearby, watching him intently.

 

“Teacher Luo, your relationship with Teacher Duan is really good,” the makeup artist joked while applying powder.

 

Luo Ding glanced sideways at Duan Xiubo, who nodded smugly. Smiling slightly, Luo Ding replied, “Yes, we’ve known each other for a long time.”

 

The makeup artist, seeing his expression, coughed and thought: Wow, even my boyfriend and I aren’t this clingy. Men’s way of expressing friendship is something else. No wonder people ship them as a CP—it’s almost too real.

 

But because it seemed too real, it couldn’t possibly be true.

 

The makeup artist, having worked on countless productions, felt sure of it. Those with genuine chemistry didn’t behave like this.

 

*******

 

The title Assassin had been in the public eye since last year, never leaving the spotlight. Delayed four times since its planned start, the production was rumored to be cursed, with a lead actor and director meeting tragic fates.

 

When the third delay happened, many assumed the film would never be made. The news of Xu Zhen’s severe injuries only reinforced this belief.

 

Yet this notoriety worked in the film’s favor. Discussions and attention remained high. Director Yu Shaotian leaned into public sentiment, heavily marketing Xu Zhen’s story. Photos of Xu Zhen’s drastically aged appearance spread quickly, shocking many.

 

 

Hemiplegia, incontinence, a disabled left hand—a car accident had caused such devastating consequences, leaving many people to sigh at the unpredictability of life.

 

He used to be so glamorous, walking red carpets with the hottest stars in the entertainment industry, amassing awards that covered an entire wall in his studio. Even as he aged, he always appeared impeccably groomed and composed, flashing a confident smile at the cameras—a picture of elite sophistication.

 

He wasn’t bad-looking either. He never married, and in his forties, he was even named a diamond bachelor, with many unmarried women in the industry eyeing him as a potential husband.

 

But now, with his gray hair and wrinkled skin, weighed down by the frailty of old age, who could still see the same vibrant, accomplished director in this figure?

 

The power of sympathy is immense. Like a beggar pleading on the streets, a disabled person’s bowl often collects a few more coins.

 

Someone who once seemed unattainable has fallen from their pedestal, now worse off than an ordinary person. Like a stray dog with broken legs curled up by the door licking its wounds, even those who never cared for dogs might feel pity and spare a bowl of leftover food.

 

Triumph Media stood firmly on moral high ground, framing Xu Zhen’s helpless situation from a charitable perspective. The company intervened compassionately, injecting significant funding to revive the film project, essentially fulfilling Xu Zhen’s dream.

 

What a great company!

 

Investing tens of millions of dollars without hesitation, and even with Xu Zhen’s condition, they didn’t replace him. This single decision alone earned Triumph Media widespread praise. In an age where businesspeople are increasingly shrewd, it had been a long time since anyone had seen such a charitable company. Rumor even had it that a portion of the investment came directly from Duan Xiubo’s personal funds.

 

What a remarkable person Duan Xiubo is.

 

The lead actors agreed to take half their usual paychecks?

 

Even better. Who’s starring in it, anyway?

 

Everyone knew that the original lead actor in the film was the late Cao Dingkun, whose standing in the industry was deeply entrenched. Any role he agreed to take was guaranteed to be a masterpiece. Who could possibly replace him? When news broke of Duan Xiubo’s investment, many assumed he had taken the role himself.

 

But when the cast list was revealed during post-production, Duan Xiubo’s name was nowhere to be found.

 

Instead, the lead role went to someone who left everyone dumbfounded—

 

Luo Ding.

 

Both within and outside the industry, people reacted with a collective outcry of disbelief.

 

“Him again?!”

 

“How many times has his name come up recently?! How many times now?!”

 

“Is this some deliberate ploy to make people envy and resent him?”

 


R : I mean..him again! LOL 


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