Uncle Jiang immediately stepped in to mediate, saying, “The child is not wrong. Our schedule for next year is already quite packed. Thank you for your kind offer.”
Bai Dao, sipping his bamboo mushroom soup casually, remarked, “If you want to act, you need to learn first. Making jokes without any skills will only lead to laughter.”
Old Bai, the director who had spoken earlier, chuckled and said, “But nowadays, many celebrities can act just because they’re famous.”
Qing Ding interjected, “But that kind of fame is short-lived. In a couple of years, when the fans have moved on, nobody will want to watch those movies, and everyone will want to laugh.”
“Corona” is a work that has been meticulously crafted over the past ten years, and they’ve cherished it like a treasure. They don’t need to do foolish things just to make money.
The conversation naturally moved away from this topic, and people began discussing the new leadership team and host at Bai Chuan Tai Xin, the recent downturn in art films and suspense movies, and rumors about the leading artist at their company changing their plastic surgeon, with many recent photos being posted online.
Once the banquet was over, they bid farewell to Pei Ruye and returned to the seventeenth floor.
Huo Ren finished his grooming and came out, seeing Xie Lianyun helping Chi Ji revise a new song, while Mei Shengyao held a ukulele to provide accompaniment.
He sat down next to them, and Xiao Chi handed him a plate of nougat, saying, “It’s so sweet, Huo Huo, try one!”
Xie Lianyun was struggling with the melody changes and took off his glasses to rub his nose.
The nougat was a bit sticky, but its milky sweetness was relaxing.
Huo Ren chewed on the nougat while looking at the music sheets, his mind still on the conversation from a few hours ago.
Actually, when that director had made that joke, Long-ge didn’t need to give a direct answer.
Acknowledging his single status was a way of subconsciously hiding something.
But… Jue-ge must have heard it.
Huo Ren realized that he had been lost in thought for too long, so he handed the music sheets back to Chi Ji and glanced towards the restroom.
“Did you see their expressions during the Valentine’s Day event?” Xie Lianyun asked slowly with his eyes closed.
“Valentine’s Day?” It was early June now, and Huo Ren hadn’t expected this topic to come up suddenly.
Valentine’s Day and Chinese New Year were very close this year, and it coincided with Bo’s parents coming to visit and the unexpected win at the OSC Quad Awards. There weren’t many highlights in the commercial activities of Valentine’s Day—just some joint brand promotions and interactions with fans, along with a few lucky fans getting on stage to sing a new song.
“Long Jia’s fans held up a sea of light boards, and when he went on stage, they joked about when he would marry them,” Xie Lianyun looked at Huo Ren sideways and continued, “Bo Jue’s fans sent him a wall of single roses, wanting to spend Valentine’s Day with him.”
At first, Huo Ren didn’t understand the hidden meaning behind his words. After a moment, when his brain finally caught up, he became a bit more tense in his posture. “Are you saying… they are also in a difficult situation?”
“They might feel a sense of betrayal,” Mei Shengyao whispered. “Giving all their love to their lovers is like betraying their fans.”
“Giving all their love to their fans is like betraying their lovers,” Chi Ji chimed in.
Chi Ji, tilting his head, added, “Can’t they have both, to some extent?”
Mei Shengyao reached out to ruffle his brother’s hair and said, “When it comes to love, being distracted means it’s not real. There’s no such thing as half and half.”
Their fans’ love for their idols was something they had always felt and empathized with.
Now, Corona was promoting their boyfriend image, and their album stages were all about creating a sense of romance. Media interviews were also adept at finding highlights in this regard.
– What type of person makes your heart race?
– Where would you like to go for your first date with your significant other?
– What kind of wedding dress would you choose for your future marriage?
All these questions were set up assuming their single status.
Huo Ren, who had never been in a relationship, was just realizing this now.
After the promotion period for the new song… all the interviews and fan declarations were actually a test for Long-ge and Jue-ge.
He hugged a pillow and whispered, “Would they feel guilty?”
Xie Lianyun shook his head. “Only they would know.”
Towards the fans and their teammates, feelings of guilt and remorse could coexist.
Publicly claiming to be single while privately cherishing every moment of intimacy.
At least he felt that, since the beginning of this year, Bo Jue had been smiling a lot less.
In the restroom.
Long Jia, wrapped in a towel, came out of the shower and happened to see Bo Jue combing his hair.
His long hair was not yet completely dry, with drops of water still falling intermittently.
Long Jia roughly rubbed his own wet hair and walked over to Bo Jue.
“Let me do it.”
Bo Jue didn’t refuse, but he looked at him through the mirror.
Compared to five or six years ago, Long Jia had become much more upright.
His frame was stretched, his waist was slim, and he had a strong masculine presence.
Long Jia lowered his head and combed Bo Jue’s long hair strand by strand, unconsciously running his fingertips through the wet strands.
“Today…,” he began.
“It’s okay,” Bo Jue interrupted.
“I was afraid that what I said earlier might have hurt you.”
“No, you didn’t,” Bo Jue replied.
Long Jia didn’t know how to apologize to him. He hesitated for a moment, then buried his face in Bo Jue’s hair and shoulder, not moving for a long time.
“Sometimes I wonder,” he held Bo Jue from behind, his voice muffled, “if we could just be open about us.”
No need to trouble their younger brothers with smoke and mirrors, no need to hide their relationship from anyone, holding hands and kissing in the daylight without sneaking around.
Bo Jue reached out to encircle his neck with his hand and shook his head slightly.
It was impossible.
Leaving aside the impact of coming out during their career’s peak—most fans tolerated them having CP (a fictional couple) but wouldn’t accept that their idols were actually in a same-sex relationship. What they liked was the subtle ambiguity.
Even if coming out itself didn’t have consequences, the aftermath of their relationship being exposed would be something the entire group would have to face.
A sudden, massive public opinion reversal from tens of millions of fans was not something ordinary people could endure.
They already owed their younger brothers too much; they shouldn’t be greedy anymore.
Long Jia didn’t see Bo Jue’s head shake, but he could still hear his intentions.
He gently nuzzled Bo Jue’s ear with his slightly cool nose, as if demanding another kiss.
“I love you,” Long Jia whispered again, as if reassuring each other that they hadn’t done anything wrong. “I really love you.”
Bo Jue turned his head and kissed his lips.
“Let’s go to sleep; it’s late.”
They returned to their respective rooms, exchanging silent goodnight glances.
The next morning, Uncle Jiang brought Corona to an open area in an industrial building on the outskirts of town.
This place had low occupancy due to its remote location, so the rent was quite cheap.
However, the security measures were stringent.
Even though it was in the middle of nowhere, with only a few trucks and trains coming and going, they still had to pass through two security checkpoints and have their identification checked multiple times.
“What is this place?” Huo Ren asked.
“One of Director Bai’s workspaces,” Uncle Jiang proudly replied. “This time, President Qi found the right director. Guess what Director Bai has prepared for you?”
After passing through the completely dark entrance gate of the factory building, Huo Ren thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.
Inside a closed space, he saw a Belgian-style Nordic market.
Director Bai was wearing a duckbill cap and checking the situation with the extras, while an elderly foreign man with a white beard pushed a cart, looking kindly. There was also a blonde little girl holding a balloon and selling apples by the street.
“Hold on—” Mei Shengyao was a bit overwhelmed by the film-like environment. “All of this was set up by Director Bai?”
“Next door, there are two more scenes. We’ll have the entire setup transported to the concert with big trucks later,” Uncle Jiang said while lighting a cigarette. “Pretty impressive, right? I was surprised when I first came here.”
Xie Lianyun exclaimed and took out his phone to compare it with his previous photos.
It was indeed a scene meticulously recreated according to the real location. The pear wood sign with a cuckoo bird weather vane, the brooch dolls displayed in the shop windows, and the little bears were all there.
The street was paved with two layers of old cobblestones, and each shop, including the bakery, had actors playing local residents.
If they were to perform in an environment like this, it would be like a live and lively music video for the entire audience.
“The effect is really impressive. I’m planning to use this technology for my new film. Let’s be guinea pigs for each other,” Director Bai said as he saw them and waved his hand. “Let’s get into positions—lights, sound, actors, take your places!”
Huo Ren thought this was more exciting than making a movie and hesitated for a moment before entering.
The street scene was nearly 60 meters long, and the houses on both sides were made of plastic panels and cardboard, but the exteriors were made with different materials for a highly realistic look.
“Let’s choose ‘Seventeen’ for this scene, and we’ll keep the title track in the next scene,” Director Bai held a stack of scripts and led them through the scene. “When singing, pay attention to interact with the environment. Let’s rehearse the first shot!”
An assistant next to him clapped a board, and the six of them, dressed in training outfits, spread out in an orderly manner, singing and wandering through the European streets.
While the music played, all the background actors started following the script, with the middle-aged man sipping coffee and making a phone call on the street, and the elegant lady leisurely walking her dog.
As Chi Ji sang halfway, he even managed to buy a freshly made chocolate ice cream cone.
Huo Ren had never experienced such an immersive stage before and couldn’t help but look around at the scenery.
After rehearsing the first scene twice, Director Bai patiently taught them how to optimize the camera angles and audience perspectives using changes in their positions and angles.
He was a professional with patience, clear logic, and was indeed a rare excellent director.
Once the first scene’s rehearsal was more or less finished, Mei Shengyao suddenly exclaimed, “Uncle Bai, why do I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before?”
“Yao Yao, want some ice cream?” Chi Ji offered him a bite of his ice cream cone. “Take a bite; it’s melting fast!”
Director Bai thought they might have met before but didn’t dwell on it. He pointed to the passage leading to the neighboring factory building and said, “Have you familiarized yourselves with this side?”
“We’re all familiar,” Huo Ren quickly replied. “You can focus on your work, and I’ll bring them over for rehearsal.”
“You have a good memory,” Director Bai smiled. “In the room next door, I’ve prepared something new for you.”
The first scene had already brought plenty of surprises.
Being around a creative director felt like every minute was generating new ideas. Xie Lianyun, who had been struggling with how to handle the new song, now hastily grabbed a notebook and started writing and composing while following the group at the end of the line, almost walking in the wrong direction.
The second scene was set up in the neighboring factory building. The stage had backdrop walls resembling curled-up pages of a book, with the theme resembling an old study room.
What was strange was that the study room had transparent screens on all four sides, not too close or too far, with visible gray lines at the edges.
“This is a commonly used technology in stage plays and dramas nowadays,” Director Bai explained while putting on his Bluetooth earphones. He stood in the center of the study room and signaled for the visual effects crew to get into position.
At the moment he raised his arm, it seemed like sparks were igniting in the void where his fingertips pointed. One moment, there was purple bamboo and ink orchids sprouting from the ground, both real and surreal at the same time.
Although all of this was the result of multiple layers of transparent projection screens, as long as the performers memorized their positions and movements precisely, the overlapping of multiple scenes in the same place would create an incredible effect.
“We’ve created three sets of special effects plans,” Director Bai demonstrated several basic movements and then let Yao Yao and Chi Ji try it out.
“Wizard’s Study, Peach Demon’s Portrait, Farewell Bridge. We’ll decide on one for further refinement after seeing the real-life effect.”
Huo Ren was listening intently at the back of the group when suddenly his phone vibrated twice.
It was a WeChat message from Pei Ruye.
“The weather has been really cold lately.”
It had been more than a week since they last saw each other.
In the past month, they had met every day, sometimes even sleeping together in planes, high-speed trains, or in the nanny car due to their busy schedules, almost like a form of cohabitation.
Suddenly being separated again, someone wasn’t quite used to it.
Huo Ren quickly checked on his teammates and replied with a smile, his straightforward approach becoming increasingly proficient.
“Is the owner concerned about me?”
There was no response from the other end for a long time.
Huo Ren wasn’t in a hurry either. He calmly continued listening to the instructions on how to operate.
Ten more minutes passed, and the vibration occurred again, as if a heart suddenly connected.
“Yes.”
“Little White Wolf, remember to wait for me to come back.”
Wait, is this director Bai the father of that kid who is secretly that actress’ child? The one who beat Mei Shengyao’s mother for that award-winning role? Is he the same director who rejected Mei Shengyao’s mother? So, did he give the role to his baby mama? From that scene where the kid appeared and the facts that the author keeps hinting about him, I’m guessing he’s the protagonist of another novel? Probably along with that RnB soloist who lives below Corona?