Chapter 25: Just a Little

Hua Na could no longer stand seeing Shen Chao looking so utterly wrecked. He waved his hand. “You two, come down first. Shen Chao, come fix your look and touch up your makeup.”

Su Xuan finally finished shooting the scene where he had to pick at the hairband. While doing it, he felt so cautious that his hand nearly cramped, terrified he might accidentally pull off Shen Chao’s wig.

If the Su Xuan who finished running alongside on the first day was a cripple, then the Su Xuan after today’s shoot was a piece of trash. He didn’t want to be human anymore. So f*cking exhausting.

Su Xuan felt like he had been acting all day in the mountains with a bear (Shen Chao: “…”) while carrying a few hundred pounds of bricks with two steel cables.

This was Su Xuan’s first time filming a real outdoor scene with wire work. Most of his previous roles were shot in film studios or rented locations in the city. Even when he went on location, they never made such a big deal out of it.

Su Xuan lay limp on the bed, motionless, his face buried in the pillow. He stared blankly, thinking, in the past, when he didn’t know about those years, had Shen Chao been getting through like this? So amazing… Shen Chao wasn’t even a professional graduate, but he was truly incredible. How could this person excel at everything he did?

Su Xuan let out a long sigh. Today, he and Shen Chao had finally stood on the same stage, and only then did he realize how vast the gap between them was. In the long term, Shen Chao had overwhelmingly won the bet. In the short term, after filming with Su Xuan, Shen Chao had shot with Song Xiao and then with some extras. On the way back, Shen Chao still helped carry the equipment, but this time he had taken off his wig and radiated a chilling coldness.

What kind of physical strength is this?! Su Xuan thought desperately. Could Shen Chao possibly be a robot?! Such a massive gap in physique between humans—it was unscientific! When Su Xuan came down from the wire, he felt like his balls were about to be severed. Did Shen Chao not have balls (Shen Chao: “…”)? How could he show no expression at all?! So cold!

Thinking of this, Su Xuan remembered he needed to apply medicine to himself. He pulled out the red flower oil from his bag, then paused weirdly.

—There was a miserable past experience. Su Xuan’s groin, the area near his balls, was especially sore from the wire. He hadn’t known that such a tender area shouldn’t be directly rubbed with red flower oil.

He had applied a palmful and rubbed it in, but halfway through, he felt something was off.

Su Xuan opened the ingredient list of the red flower oil and saw something called borneol. Borneol was also in cooling oils, used to add a refreshing coolness.

Then Su Xuan did the second stupid thing: while shivering from the cold and hissing in pain, he scuttled into the bathroom with his legs apart like a crab and aimed the showerhead at his lower region, blasting it with water.

According to the principle of like dissolves like, water and oil don’t mix, but water can spread oil everywhere.

Su Xuan curled up on the bed like a woman with cramps, silently wailing for half the night. The cold and stabbing sensation that shot straight to his brain was something he would never forget. At his most miserable, he even wanted to amputate.

Actually, Su Xuan was just unlucky. He had no assistant, so he had to do everything himself. He lacked common sense about such matters. In his mind, all bruises and sprains could be treated with red flower oil. Plus, during the day, he had been dizzy from filming, and this place was isolated, so he had to make do with whatever was available, and the only thing he could find was red flower oil.

But using cooling oil—oh, no, red flower oil—on the crotch should never happen a second time.

Su Xuan carefully applied the medicine to his leg, wincing in pain. But the most painful spot, his groin, remained untouched. Su Xuan did a split on the bed and stared mournfully at the most painful area, with a tube of red flower oil beside him.

Shen Chao pushed the door open and walked in.

Shen Chao: “…”

Su Xuan expressionlessly slowly closed his legs. “…” He really wanted to close them quickly, but it hurt too much. He couldn’t.

Shen Chao maintained his cold expression, but his words were noticeably halting. “…You… didn’t close the door, and you were… groaning in pain…”

He slightly turned his face away. Su Xuan saw Shen Chao take a deep breath, then he turned back, his face once again like a thousand-year-old iceberg. He said flatly, “Next time you do something like this, close the door properly.”

Su Xuan followed Shen Chao’s gaze to the tube of red flower oil standing upright on his bed.

Su Xuan: “…”

What strange thing does Shen Chao think I was doing?! I was wearing underwear! Su Xuan tried to explain, noticing he had been doing a lot of explaining lately. “I was looking at my injury. The wire harness kind of… chafed… I was applying medicine.”

He scratched his face awkwardly. Shen Chao, however, was very matter-of-fact: “That’s normal. I have some medicine over there. Do you want some?”

Such a specific medicine—Shen Chao actually had that kind of trouble too?! Having suffered from the red flower oil disaster, Su Xuan asked hesitantly, “What kind is it? Gentle and non-irritating?”

Shen Chao nodded. “Baby formula.”

Why didn’t I think of that!!

After applying the medicine, Su Xuan finally felt a bit better and slept soundly.

As filming progressed into the later stages, Su Xuan’s performance improved steadily. The shoot for [Rong Yan Zhi], which had been expected to get stuck, advanced by leaps and bounds. Hua Na could laugh in his dreams.

Although the action scenes were still not flawless—sometimes Su Xuan would accidentally reveal his true form and turn into a turtle—his dramatic scenes were genuinely formidable. Hua Na sighed inwardly, thinking that a proper professional training really made a difference.

Su Xuan was one of the few on set who rarely forgot his lines and could even help remind his co-stars of theirs. He had only received the script about a month ago, but he was already very familiar with the lines, delivering them with full emotion. Although outdoor scenes couldn’t be recorded on-site, judging by Su Xuan’s diction and feeling, he wouldn’t need someone else to dub over his lines later.

Shen Chao, on the other hand, needed dubbing. Whether Shen Chao needed dubbing or not was a matter of luck. His line delivery was unstable—when he performed well, he was outstanding. For example, in the campus drama *From Now On*, Shen Chao used his own voice, and the effect was excellent, as seen by the ratings and reviews. In his early days, Shen Chao had a fixed voice actor, but later, because he disliked dubbing and his line skills had improved to a top level, he used dubbing less and less.

This time, Hua Na had originally thought dubbing wouldn’t be necessary, because Shen Chao’s lines with Song Xiao and others were normal. But as soon as he faced Su Xuan, it fell apart.

Hua Na watched the two actors delivering their lines through the lens, his brows furrowed. Song Xiao, draped in a towel, squatted beside him and watched too.

Hua Na asked Song Xiao, “Do you see anything?”

Delivering lines was like singing opera—you had to push air from your abdomen. If the breath wasn’t sufficient, the lines would sound shallow, like everyday conversation, lacking the cinematic feel that immerses the audience.

There was also a saying: “Heroes have short breath when love is long.” Even the best actors, when acting with someone they were too close to or too familiar with, would have their lines become more mundane.

Song Xiao thought of that and teased, “But Shen Chao hasn’t seen Su Xuan for years, so their relationship should be just average. It shouldn’t cause shortness of breath.”

And they said it was just a normal coworker relationship. CP fan Song Xiao thought a bit resentfully.

Hua Na looked at how Shen Chao acted toward Su Xuan and casually joked, “What if Shen Chao has unilateral good feelings toward Su Xuan? Look, Su Xuan isn’t short of breath at all.”

Su Xuan was not short of breath at all—he had plenty of it. When he threw himself deeply into a scene, he rarely got distracted, acting wholeheartedly. He had no idea what “heroes have short breath when love is long” meant.

Nor did he understand why Shen Chao was short of breath. In fact, he was getting more excited as he acted.

They were now rehearsing a dramatic scene.

After the “Flying Swans Assembly,” Rong Yan Zhi ranked fifth, and the male lead ranked second. Both had earned the right to open the book *Seeking the Path*. They went together to the female lead’s sect to open *Seeking the Path*.

Rong Yan Zhi opened the book, and on it were two glaring brush-stroke characters: **Kill Mother**.

This was Rong Yan Zhi’s key to seeking the path.

Shocked, Rong Yan Zhi closed the book and turned to flee, bumping into Bai Di, who was waiting behind him to open the book as well. Bai Di caught the distraught Rong Yan Zhi and asked why he was so panicked. That was the start of this dramatic scene.

Tears were on Su Xuan’s face. He was excellent at crying scenes and dramatic scenes. His eyelids didn’t even move, and tears just appeared, one or two drops, slipping cleanly into his collar and disappearing. When he cried, he didn’t make exaggerated or contorted expressions; instead, his eyes were vacant and lost, as if he didn’t know he was crying.

Su Xuan also had a smile on his face, but the muscles beside his nose twitched slightly, and tears fell from his lashes.

Su Xuan looked up at Shen Chao, half-smiling, half-crying, and said, “I opened *Seeking the Path*, and there was nothing on it. Should I be panicked?”

When Su Xuan’s voice, half-crazed, half-crying, half-laughing, came out, Hua Na broke out in goosebumps and immediately slapped the table in praise.

Song Xiao also spoke regretfully, “Su Xuan’s line delivery and crying scenes are really good. Four years without a major role—he really was wasted.”

Shen Chao’s face remained calm, completely unfazed. “If there’s nothing, then there’s nothing. Your path—you should know how to prove it.”

Hua Na frowned—Shen Chao’s expression and demeanor were fine, but that line was still short of breath.

Su Xuan looked up at him, the smile still on his face, but tears kept dripping from the corners of his eyes. He turned and casually wiped them away, sneering, “You say it so lightly. When you open it and see the same thing as me, then come and lecture me.”

The book *Seeking the Path* was slowly lifted by the prop team—there would be special effects added later—and then the book landed in Shen Chao’s hands. He opened it—inside, it was blank.

Shen Chao looked at the stunned Su Xuan, and a scattered smile appeared on his face. “Neither do I.”

Hua Na: “Cut!”

Hua Na opened his mouth. He was actually a bit afraid to say anything to Shen Chao, but he wasn’t satisfied with this take. In terms of acting, both had their strengths, but Su Xuan’s lines were so good that it made his performance seem much better overall. He wanted a retake, but he was satisfied with Shen Chao’s performance. And since it wasn’t being recorded on-site, he couldn’t be too demanding about lines. So he couldn’t find a reason to retake it.

Shen Chao had done extremely well in every aspect. Hua Na didn’t know why he was being so stubborn. For a traffic actor of Shen Chao’s level to deliver such a high-level performance was already far beyond his expectations. If he kept nitpicking, it might make everyone unhappy.

…After all, according to rumors, Shen Chao didn’t have a very good temper.

Hua Na said dryly, “Good acting. Move on…”

“Director Hua.” Shen Chao looked at Hua Na calmly. “Can we do another take? I was a bit… distracted just now. I didn’t catch Su Xuan’s performance.”

Hua Na was startled. “Huh?”

Shen Chao glanced at Su Xuan, who also looked surprised at being praised, and said evenly, “Su Xuan acted very well just now—very good. But I didn’t match it. Could you trouble Director Hua for another take?”

Hua Na was a bit stunned. “Okay, okay. Let’s do it again.”

Shen Chao stood to the side, lowering his head, focusing on the script while waiting for the prop team to reset the scene for another take.

Su Xuan felt like he couldn’t suppress the smile threatening to take over his face. His eyes sparkled. He was praised!! Praised!!

Hua Na relaxed. He turned to look at Song Xiao and, as if understanding something, shook his head and laughed. “…Is Shen Chao always like this?”

Song Xiao smiled. “Shen Chao has always been like this when filming. He’s very serious. If you ask him to meet the demands of the drama, he’ll exceed your expectations. He works very hard.”

Hua Na was still a bit uneasy. “…He actually acted quite well. Shen Chao won’t get angry, will he?”

“Angry? No…” Song Xiao looked at Shen Chao, who was studying the script, then at Su Xuan, who was adjusting his costume. She seemed a bit puzzled as she said, “…It seems Shen Chao thinks it’s very natural that Su Xuan acted better than him.”

“He even seems happy?” Song Xiao wondered if she was mistaken. Why did she feel that Shen Chao was in a good mood because Su Xuan performed better than him?

But she did see Shen Chao cast a glance at the beaming Su Xuan, his eyes hiding a hint of expectation and appreciation. He seemed to have been waiting for Su Xuan to act with such high spirits for a very long time. So long that when it finally happened, Shen Chao couldn’t even stabilize his lines, seeing only a long-lost Su Xuan, dressed in finery and holding a sword, playfully swinging a blade at him, disturbing his heart.

*Courtyard* was a film from four years ago. As soon as it was completed, Director Liu submitted it to various film festivals, but unfortunately, it was quickly banned and didn’t win any awards. Naturally, Director Liu felt aggrieved and, after four years, resubmitted it to every festival.

The three most prestigious awards in domestic film and television were the Golden Elephant, the Golden Tree, and the Bauhinia Leaf. The Bauhinia Leaf was a Hong Kong film festival with regional protectionism, but in recent years it had gradually opened up, with more mainland works winning awards, though still not many.

The festival they were attending this time was the Golden Tree.

The Golden Tree had a somewhat awkward position—neither high nor low. It was positioned as a festival for young filmmakers and had always been approachable. In recent years, its reputation had gradually deviated, with many major companies pulling strings behind the scenes. When these companies felt their artists were ready, they would send them to the Golden Tree to get a gilding.

It was a festival that wasn’t particularly fair or transparent. In the industry, there was a tacit nickname for the Golden Tree: “UK’s Backyard Garden.”

UK stood for Ukelele. Many artists from this company had won awards at the Golden Tree. Wang Muzhe had once been an actor at UK.

The most terrifying year was when UK monopolized the Best Actor, Best Actress, Best Supporting Actress, and Best Supporting Actor at the Golden Tree. That same year, Shen Chao’s *The Underworld* was nominated for Best Actor but ultimately lost and became a runner-up. Because of Shen Chao’s controversial profile, that year also saw the highest ratings for the Golden Tree. From then on, the Golden Tree began nominating Shen Chao every year, only to have him lose each time.

In fact, they wanted to use Shen Chao’s nominations to repeatedly excite the audience, guarantee ratings, and then deny him any award, using his “runner-up” status to stir up buzz. It could be said that the Golden Tree was the biggest force behind the ridicule of Shen Chao’s acting skills—maliciously using him as a perpetual runner-up to maintain ratings.

Year after year, Su Xuan watched Shen Chao attend the Golden Tree Film Festival and return empty-handed. The Golden Tree maliciously spread rumors and conducted interviews, claiming that the popular star had shown a dark face to the organizers after not winning the award, and so on.

Every year after the festival, Shen Chao would be publicly ridiculed.

Despite the fact that this man was the youngest lead actor in the top three films at the box office, with cumulative film revenue exceeding ten billion, and every TV series he starred in had high ratings, and all the directors he worked with were willing to nominate him repeatedly for awards because they believed he had the ability to win.

But there was no way to change the deep-rooted things behind the awards. The Golden Tree’s malice toward Shen Chao, the Golden Elephant’s prejudice against popular stars, and the Bauhinia Leaf’s reluctance to accept mainland films.

So Shen Chao walked the red carpet year after year, then walked off, calmly facing the fact that he had nothing.

This year, the Golden Tree repeated its old tricks. *Courtyard* was announced as a nominee for Best Actor, and after Shen Chao received the nomination, everyone was nervous. Director Liu was indeed a talented director, and Shen Chao’s performance this time was truly outstanding.

However, Su Xuan had called Director Liu to ask about Shen Chao’s chances of winning this year. Director Liu was not optimistic about the awards, and he put it bluntly: “They’re playing Shen Chao, same as every year. There’s no reason for you and Shen Chao not to be nominated together—both of you acted well. Only nominating him is just to stir up the fans.”

Su Xuan indeed was not nominated.

But Director Liu sighed as he spoke: “UK has a tight grip on the Golden Tree. Originally, the Golden Tree was a festival for recognizing outstanding young actors. Shen Chao should have won long ago—the year he left his company, he should have won, and he should have won several times. A few of us directors were drinking and said that his luck was too bad, just in time when the judges were all reshuffled by UK.”

“UK?” Su Xuan repeated in realization. He had known the Golden Tree had inside stories before, but not this specific.

Director Liu became cautious: “Su Xuan, I’m only telling you this now because you’ve become famous. Before, you couldn’t access this level of information. Now, I advise you to stay away from that company. The waters are deep.”

…

Soon, the Golden Tree Film Festival arrived. Both Su Xuan and Shen Chao had to attend. Besides the Best Actor nomination, *Courtyard* was also nominated for other awards, so the entire team had to walk the red carpet.

Hua Na gave them leave. Wang Shou and Liu Pangpang traveled a long distance to pick up their respective artists.

They also had an important matter to discuss: the promotional plan for the web drama *The Underworld*.

Liu Pangpang searched the set for a long time before finding his artist. As soon as he saw Su Xuan, he was speechless.

Su Xuan was crouching by the roadside, holding a corn cob. He had tucked his robe into his shorts, corn kernels all over his face, and a rustic high-altitude sunburn on his cheeks. If someone hadn’t pointed him out, Liu Pangpang wouldn’t have believed it was Su Xuan.

Who is this guy?! Did Su Xuan come here to film or to be in a reality show?! Which village’s left-behind child was this, begging on the streets?!

Liu Pangpang met Su Xuan’s gaze and couldn’t help pulling out a few coins from his pocket and handing them to Su Xuan. “Here, take them.”

Su Xuan’s look was too professional—it gave off the vibe of a left-behind child longing for money.

Su Xuan: “…”

Su Xuan: “Don’t treat me like a beggar!”

Su Xuan took the coins speechlessly and stuffed them into his pocket, then looked at Liu Pangpang with desire. “Do you have any food?”

The food in this place was f*cking terrible. Su Xuan had always thought the worst food he ever ate was the crew’s box lunches, but then he found something even worse—the tourist area’s crew box lunches.

Su Xuan couldn’t take it anymore. He liked corn, so he bought a bunch of boiled corn from the locals and handed it out to everyone on set. Everyone ate happily.

Liu Pangpang said with a complicated expression, “…You’re not much different from a beggar now. If you go to the film festival looking like that, I bet a lot of people will throw coins at you… Can you stop gnawing on that pathetic corn when you’re talking to me?”

Su Xuan sighed. “I’m too hungry. There’s not a trace of meat. Even the birds have lost their flavor in my mouth.”

Liu Pangpang glanced at him. “Wake up. You don’t have a chance to eat birds. Virgin gay.”

Su Xuan: “…”

Liu Pangpang sighed softly. “But I’ve been reading a lot of fanfiction about you eating birds lately… Do you know how popular you and Shen Chao’s CP is now?”

Su Xuan finished his corn cob, stood up, and clapped his hands. He had been completely focused on filming for the past few days and had no idea what was happening outside. “How popular?”

Looking at the oblivious Su Xuan, Liu Pangpang recalled how he had once wanted Su Xuan to cling to Shen Chao for attention. With mixed emotions, he said, “So popular that Starlight International wants to ride the wave of your CP. They hope you and Shen Chao will play up the ship as a promotional plan for *The Underworld*.”

“Basically, you’d be selling bromance with Shen Chao… Su Xuan, control yourself! Don’t make that weird face!”

Liu Pangpang was speechless. “Can you show that subtle expression while holding a corn cob in your mouth? I’ll be tempted to report you.”

On the other side, Wang Shou looked grim when he met Shen Chao. Sitting across from him, he cut to the chase. “I rejected Starlight International’s promotion plan, but the publicity department still hopes you’ll consider it.”

Acting in a gay drama and engaging in fan service with a male star were two completely different concepts. The former fell within the scope of an actor’s work, while the latter belonged to the realm of a celebrity.

Although Shen Chao had always seemed like a popular star, he had consistently been doing the work of an actor. He rarely did things expected of a celebrity.

Wang Shou emphasized sternly, “This is not good for you, Shen Chao. What are you thinking?”

Despite disagreeing strongly with Starlight’s approach of sacrificing part of Shen Chao’s standing, Wang Shou had no right to make decisions for him. Shen Chao had always been an artist with strong opinions. Having worked with him for so long, Wang Shou knew that Shen Chao was used to making decisions himself.

Wang Shou could give advice; Shen Chao would listen, but it rarely affected his own judgment.

Shen Chao was wearing Bai Di’s black ancient-style outfit, his expression cold, and in his hand was a corn cob with a bite taken out—the one Su Xuan had just handed him. He paused for a few seconds, then said, “…Go ask Su Xuan what he thinks. Ask if he agrees.”

Then Shen Chao lowered his head and gnawed on the corn.

Wang Shou: “……”

Shen Chao, where’s your assertiveness? Your dictatorship? Your opinion?!

In the end, the decision on the promotional plan turned into a multi-party review.

Representing *The Underworld* production was Hua Na. Leaf Media was represented by Liu Pangpang. Wang Shou didn’t want to represent Starlight International, but he still faithfully conveyed their opinions.

As the parties involved, Shen Chao and Su Xuan each sat in the main seats, holding corn cobs that had been gnawed clean.

Shen Chao had neatly tucked the hem of his costume into his shorts, revealing his long legs. His corn cob was also cleanly eaten, and he sat properly. Even though the scene was a bit odd, Shen Chao’s cold temperament subdued it, making it seem serious.

Su Xuan was different. His corn cob was eaten messily, and his white ancient-style robe was tucked into his shorts, with a section sticking out, looking like an exposed underwear. He didn’t realize it himself, because the wire harness had chafed his groin, so he unconsciously sat with his legs apart, making the scene look very straight-guy-ish. He looked like a pervert.

Wang Shou and Liu Pangpang both had “…” expressions.

Hua Na had also been “…” when he first saw Su Xuan’s appearance, but he had gradually gotten used to Su Xuan’s style.

Song Xiao was also there. This CP fan had used every means to sneak in, claiming she would be the host.

Suppressing her excitement, Song Xiao coughed and raised her corn cob (also given by Su Xuan) to interview Su Xuan. “Su Xuan, what do you think about using this plan to promote the drama with Shen Chao?”

Su Xuan was about to speak when Liu Pangpang cut him off, afraid he might say something shocking. Liu Pangpang clapped his hands, and when everyone looked at him, he spoke first, a bit reserved. “Leaf Media has no objections to this plan and will cooperate.”

Su Xuan tried to speak. “I…”

Wang Shou interrupted disapprovingly. “Although Starlight International’s intent is the same, I think doing this will be detrimental to both Shen Chao and Su Xuan in the long run. When the time comes to untie the knot, it will backfire.”

Su Xuan: “That…”

Liu Pangpang sneered. “If you don’t take any risks, how can you create buzz? Director Hua, what do you think?”

Su Xuan: “This matter…”

Hua Na nodded. “I agree with Starlight’s approach. Web dramas need more attention than other shows. Didn’t Shen Chao do the same with Liu Junya when he filmed *From Now On*? I don’t see the problem. Besides, Su Xuan is a man.”

Su Xuan: “Let me speak first…”

Wang Shou retorted, “Liu Junya was the official female lead, and we didn’t cooperate in the hype; it was their marketing strategy. Speaking of which, why can’t Shen Chao and Song Xiao do the promotion together? Song Xiao is the female lead, isn’t she?”

Wang Shou turned to Song Xiao, who looked bewildered, and smiled amiably. “Song has worked with Shen Chao many times; the effect might be even better.”

Hua Na frowned. “I disagree. Song Xiao’s character dies in the first season; there’s no sustained hype…”

Song Xiao spoke up, dazed. “It was never mentioned before that I would be doing this promotion…” Besides, she was pregnant. If it went wrong, it would be disastrous. She shook her head frantically. “No, no, I can’t!”

Liu Pangpang interjected. “Wang Shou, I think if the plan with Shen Chao and Su Xuan is done well, it could be a win-win…”

Wang Shou sneered. “I don’t think it’s a win-win. Agent Liu, don’t…”

Everyone fell into a heated argument.

Su Xuan slammed his corn cob down hard. Shen Chao also spoke slowly, and everyone’s attention shifted to them.

Shen Chao: “I can accept it.”

Su Xuan: “I cannot accept it!!!”

Shen Chao and the startled Su Xuan looked at each other, then spoke simultaneously. “Why can/can’t you accept it?”

Su Xuan took a deep breath. “I need to talk to Shen Chao alone. Is that okay?”

Shen Chao clearly agreed. He didn’t speak, his jaw slightly tense, his eyes fixed on Su Xuan.

Su Xuan pulled Shen Chao outside. With his back to Shen Chao, his emotions were tumultuous.

Of course, he wanted to do the promotion with Shen Chao. Getting close to the person he liked was human instinct.

But Su Xuan had known for a long time that Shen Chao had rejected him… Falling into it would never be good. It wouldn’t be polite to himself or to the other person.

Su Xuan liked Shen Chao, but he was also afraid. Sometimes he feared that he could only like Shen Chao for the rest of his life. So Su Xuan was trying to create distance.

He was learning to be friends with this man, to act together, to eat delicious food together, slowly backing away from the edge of liking into something purer. Su Xuan didn’t want to ruin that feeling. He tried not to like Shen Chao so much, to keep things under the level of friendship between two guys. Once they started promoting, everything would be destroyed.

Promotion required fake mutual performances of liking. Su Xuan was good at acting, but he couldn’t act this one out. He was afraid he would mess up.

Su Xuan turned around, not daring to look at Shen Chao’s face. He looked away and spoke in a forced calm. “Here’s the thing, Shen Chao. If you and I become a promotional CP, you know how I feel about you… Anyway, it’ll be hard to untangle later. Do you understand what I mean?”

“It’s like… I’m much better now. I don’t like you as much… but there’s still a little.” Su Xuan gestured with his fingers. He looked up at Shen Chao. “Just this… little bit. Can you wait until I digest it completely and can be friends with you?”

Shen Chao lowered his long eyelashes. His gaze stopped on the top of Su Xuan’s head, his jaw tight as he looked at the tiny bit Su Xuan gestured. His eyelashes trembled twice, his eyes dark and deep. “…I understand.”

After saying that, Shen Chao turned and went back inside. His expression was calm, as if he had finally made a decision. But Su Xuan somehow felt that he seemed a bit sad, his mood much lower, his hands falling to his sides.

However, Su Xuan let out a sigh that was both melancholy and relieved—like the feeling of wanting to play with a poisonous beauty who would kill you, but you managed to resist, yet still felt an inexplicable regret.

As soon as they came back, Liu Pangpang spoke. “Well, Su Xuan, Shen Chao, we just discussed it, and opinions are indeed not unified. We’ve decided to take a vote. Raise your hand if you agree with the decision for you to promote together. Don’t raise your hand if you disagree. Okay?”

Su Xuan was about to say something, but seeing Liu Pangpang’s eagerness, he sighed. “Whatever. I’m fine with it.”

This matter was impossible unless Shen Chao disagreed, even if everyone else raised their hands.

“One, two, three—raise your hands!”

Su Xuan’s hand was grabbed by Shen Chao’s wrist and lifted together.

Su Xuan was completely stunned. He turned to Shen Chao in shock and confusion. Shen Chao didn’t seem to think he had done anything significant. He didn’t look at Su Xuan, his expression calm, and said, “Su Xuan and I both agree.”

Su Xuan was at a loss for words. He stood there dazed for a long time before stammering, “But… what if we can’t untangle it later…”

Shen Chao looked down at him, seemingly smiling or not, his voice soft. “Then we won’t untangle it.”

He looked into Su Xuan’s eyes with unprecedented determination. “As long as you have that little bit… I won’t untangle it.”

Su Xuan’s heart raced. He felt that the little bit had started to become two little bits.

Liu Pangpang was overjoyed. “Great, great! All in favor!”

Wang Shou, the only one who hadn’t raised his hand, said angrily, “I didn’t raise my hand!”

Liu Pangpang glanced at him. “Fine. All in favor except you.”

Wang Shou: “…”

Why do I feel even more pitiful?

Su Xuan was taken away by Liu Pangpang, and Shen Chao left with Wang Shou.

The next afternoon was the opening ceremony of the Golden Tree Film Festival. They both had to attend and needed time to prepare.

*Courtyard* had brought significant profits to Leaf Media. Su Xuan also had sponsorship from a related brand—not a particularly expensive luxury brand, but better than the tuxedo Liu Pangpang had rented for him before.

However, Su Xuan never expected that his outfit would become a problem.

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