MACRM Chapter 56

Zhong Yao lowered his head, looking at the flush spreading across his agent’s neck.

On the phone, Jin Zhenbo didn’t hear him respond; his voice grew heavier. “What’s going on? Say something, where are you—”

Zhong Yao gently cut him off. “Director Jin, I don’t know where you heard these rumors, but I think you may have misunderstood something…”

Zhong Yao: “Do you want to know more about my agent specifically?”

Lin Zhu: “??”

Lin Zhu inhaled softly and lifted his head to stop him, but Director Jin was stubborn as always. He insisted on prying the only can that absolutely should not be opened.

Jin Zhenbo: “What is there to ‘know’? Several people have told me the same thing these past two days. I’m telling you, it’d be better to fire that agent of yours sooner rather than later. It’s not like you can’t act on your own…”

Zhong Yao fell silent for a moment, pinched the phone between his shoulder and cheek, and smoothly took off Clozeya’s trench coat, along with the gloves, placing them lightly onto Lin Zhu’s arm. 

“Help me return this, and tell the crew I’m stepping out to take a call.”

Zhong Yao smiled and estimated the time. “Ask for half an hour off for me… I’ll try to keep it short and come back early.”

Lin Zhu: “……”

The volume on the phone was turned low, so Lin Zhu could only catch fragments of words. But it was enough to piece together the general situation.

For the sake of Director Jin’s mental well-being over the next two months, Lin Zhu hurried after him, meaning to smooth things over. But Zhong Yao only ruffled his hair, pushed open the door, and stepped out of the recording room.

The PR manager, whose personality had grown nastier lately, deliberately squeezed through the crowd to rub salt in the wound. “Lin-laoshi, want to see the photos? We can release a couple of fierce candids of you. Want to buy a trending topic? We can say you bully your artist, steal his chocolates…”

Lin Zhu felt a headache coming on. He pushed away the phone shoved at him and went to return the clothes himself.

…

Half an hour later, Zhong Yao returned to the studio.

The shoot had been moving fast enough; he’d already changed into five or six outfits. A short break like this wasn’t going to make anyone rush him. Lin Zhu guarded the entrance, and seeing him come in, finally let out half a breath of relief and quickly walked over.

Zhong Yao came in with the chill of outside still clinging to him. Worried Lin Zhu might get cold, he pulled him toward the air-conditioned area and handed him the freshly warmed orange juice. “The crew confirmed it. There really aren’t accommodations for staff. All the rooms are exactly enough…”

Holding the hot orange juice, warmth spread through Lin Zhu’s chest. He nodded lightly. “I know.”

He actually already expected this.

The situation with [No Bridge] had been a rare exception. Most crews would never put staff and actors together. Not to mention, the cast of [Serving the Sovereign] this time consisted mostly of unpretentious veteran actors. Even those few idols who bowed to circumstances still had their assistants running back and forth.

Agents in the industry generally didn’t meddle as much as he did. Visiting the set was one thing, but following the group? That was unheard of. And with this production’s strict management, there was no way he would get the same privileges he used to have at the Sichuan Film Studio.

Lin Zhu had already planned it out. He pulled out the map, leaning close for Zhong Yao to see. “It’s fine. We don’t have to stay at the place the crew booked. There’s a hotel nearby. It’s thirty minutes closer to the filming site than theirs. I already reserved the rooms. It’ll just be a daily commute…”

The production had to consider budget when booking hotels. The filming location was a famous film base, so hotels close by were ridiculously expensive. Naturally, whatever accommodations they arranged for staff would only get farther and farther away.

Lin Zhu had prepared early and secured several nearby rooms. It just meant waking up earlier and sleeping later. Nothing he found particularly difficult.

Zhong Yao already had something in mind; he didn’t rush to discuss it. He lowered his head and looked at Lin Zhu’s phone. “How far? What’s the name?”

Lin Zhu, afraid he’d worry, explained the hotel’s address in detail, even joked seriously, “It’s a five-star hotel. Only the suites were left, so I booked one… Honestly, it might even be nicer than what the crew booked for the actors.”

Zhong Yao’s right hand remained behind his back the entire time, his gaze quietly resting on him.

When Lin Zhu finished speaking, the corners of his mouth tightened slightly. He forced some energy into his tone. “It’s really nice! We won’t be far at all. You can just take a few steps and we’ll see each other—”

Zhong Yao smiled faintly and interrupted him softly. “But I still don’t think it’s good.”

Lin Zhu’s heart skipped a gentle beat.

The AC in the room was turned up a little too warm. Zhong Yao unbuttoned one button and spoke honestly. “I’m used to… not being able to sleep when we’re apart.”

Lin Zhu felt as if a fastball had hit him square in the ear; a warm buzz exploded in his head. His face flushed instantly. He darted a glance around the room. No one seemed to have heard. Only then did he finally relax a fraction and hurriedly whispered, “Ge—”

Zhong Yao had work to do. He loved acting so much, and took it so seriously. He couldn’t let something like this affect his condition.

Lin Zhu opened his mouth to continue, but his gaze suddenly paused. His words cut off instinctively.

Zhong Yao brought out the hand he’d been hiding behind his back and gently placed a uniquely designed thermos into Lin Zhu’s hands, taking back the one Lin Zhu had been holding.

“Do you like it? I saw you staring at it on the way here, so I had someone buy it… It really is nice. I didn’t even know thermoses came in so many styles nowadays.”

Zhong Yao bent his index finger and lightly rubbed Lin Zhu’s chin. “I rinsed it with hot water. It’s filled with warm orange juice. If there’s anything else you like, tell me. What you like… maybe I’ll like it too.”

Lin Zhu’s heartbeat quickened. He held the thermos tightly, eyes fixed on him.

Zhong Yao’s gaze never left him, gentle to the point of heat pricking the rims of one’s eyes. “I remember Zheng Lingyang didn’t stay in the accommodations the crew arranged either, right?”

Lin Zhu, dazed, answered without thinking. “Yes, yes…”

“I’ve worked with Director Jin several times. The crew always books that same hotel. He doesn’t know anything about those sneaky little tricks, and the people under him hide the kickbacks from him. The hotel they book isn’t even up to standard, but no one dares tell him.”

Zhong Yao lowered his head, voice soft. “Your place is a suite. It must be more comfortable than mine. Take me with you. Let me sleep with you. Is that okay?”

Lin Zhu nearly launched himself across the room to demand a room upgrade. With sheer willpower, he barely restrained himself, clinging to his professional duties. “If reporters see that, they’ll say… you’re acting like a diva…”

“It’s fine. Let them talk.”

Thinking of what he had just learned from the PR manager, Zhong Yao’s gaze darkened slightly. He drew Lin Zhu closer protectively, not letting him see.

The people at Canxing were probably just bored, or maybe they thought the blackmail material he had on them was powerless after three years, so they dared to jump around like this.

An agent’s reputation might not affect resources much, but it absolutely affected the agent himself.

If Director Jin could already call today over a bit of hearsay, then the next time Lin Zhu tried to secure opportunities, he might be targeted, gossiped about. Maybe not to his face, but in the industry he’d lose whatever goodwill he had left.

When Zhong Yao stepped out earlier, it wasn’t only to explain their situation to Director Jin. He had also asked exactly which rumors Director Jin had heard.

For someone as disinterested in gossip as Jin Zhenbo, the few absurd stories he repeated were enough to make Zhong Yao want to just dump all of Canxing’s dirty deeds onto the internet right then and there.

If someone had to be the one with a fearsome reputation at home…

Zhong Yao lowered his head, looking at his agent whose ears were burning red and whose eyes were sparkling, and smiled softly.

“Let me stay with you. If reporters see it, I’ll take the blame. Okay?”

Lin Zhu’s professionalism completely disintegrated. He nodded vaguely and ducked his head as he hurried out.

“I—I’ll go ask them to upgrade the room…”

He moved fast; in a blink, he was gone. Zhong Yao chuckled, unscrewed the thermos, drank the last mouthful of lukewarm milk tea, then took the outfit the assistant handed over and continued the next round of shooting.

The progress moved much faster than expected. They finished filming smoothly that night, leaving only the post-production processing.

After being force-fed dog food for a good ten minutes — something that hadn’t happened to him in years — Jin Zhenbo was thoroughly bewildered and desperate to hang up. In his panic, he ended up approving Zhong Yao’s request to join the crew a little later. With that settled, the two of them finally got a couple days at home to rest.

Time passed quickly. Soon, it was the day they were scheduled to join the production.

“We talked it through. Zhong-laoshi just needs to stay with the crew for two symbolic days, then he can move out.”

The planning manager hung up the call, picked up his luggage, and escorted the two of them to the airplane.

“They say that the film base has been stuck in stuffy rain for days. It’s super damp. It’ll probably start pouring the moment you get there!”

Since all his tasks had been taken over by Lin Zhu, and the publicity didn’t need him around for Clozeya’s big marketing push, he had nothing to do. So Lin Zhu brought him along, planning to train him in communication and coordination so he could hold his own once the studio was established.

The planning manager was young. It was his first time traveling this far. His nerves and excitement mixed together, and he chattered nonstop.

“Autumn rain means colder days… It’ll probably turn chilly right away. I heard winters in the south are like magic attacks. No idea what that feels like…”

Lin Zhu smiled lightly. “It won’t be that dramatic.”

The planning manager smirked, tried to calm his excitement, asked Lin Zhu a few more practical questions, then went off to handle the luggage and boarding.

But it really was that dramatic.

The moment the plane landed, the two of them were hit by a thick, bone-soaking autumn rain.

The kind of rain that seeped straight into the bones the moment it touched their clothes. Lin Zhu, wrapped in the winter coat Clozeya had rushed over, ran all over the crew area getting things set up. His hands and feet were icy by the time he finally made it back to the meeting room, now already packed with people.

Director Jin ran a tight ship. Once someone joined the crew, they had to attend the script read-through, without any exceptions.

Zhong Yao, sitting inside, saw his agent’s lips turning pale from the cold. He lifted a hand to remove his coat, but Lin Zhu stopped him.

“Ge, I’m fine, I’m not cold…”

“Your hands are this cold, and you say you’re not?”

Zhong Yao frowned lightly. He picked up the paper cup of coffee on the table and held it around Lin Zhu’s hands, his palm wrapping around those chilled fingers.

“Go back and rest. I’ll stay here for two days, burn incense at the opening ceremony, then I’ll join you.”

Outside, calling it “rain” was generous. It was practically a storm. Umbrellas were useless. The wind wrapped the moisture around them like a wet blanket. Lin Zhu had run across the entire production base with the planning manager to finalize all the procedures. His clothes were already thoroughly damp.

Still uneasy, Zhong Yao watched him take a couple sips of coffee, then unbuttoned Lin Zhu’s coat and wrapped him in his own.

“Go back and warm up with the heater. Don’t get chilled, or you’ll end up with rheumatism when you’re old.”

The sincerity in his tone was almost fatherly, unintentionally matching the atmosphere of the old veteran actors passionately reading their lines nearby.

Lin Zhu couldn’t help but laugh, then took another sip.

“I have been drinking your very nutritious tonics for three days straight. I’m practically overflowing with internal heat. I’m not as frail as you think, so no need to worry.”

[Serving the Sovereign] was a serious big-budget production and had invited many well-established actors. Lin Zhu, posing as an assistant, squeezed his way in to accompany Zhong Yao. Of course, he accordingly switched his form of address when in public¹this made more sense in Chinese, Lin Zhu switched in referring to Zhong Yao from using “ni 你” to the more respectful “nin 您”. I adjusted as making Lin Zhu speaking more formally..

Zhong Yao nodded, still holding his hand, waiting until warmth slowly spread into the cold fingertips before letting go and switching to his other hand.

“If conditions here weren’t so rough, I’d let you squeeze in with me…”

They had the opening ceremony early the next morning, and script readings every night leading up to it. Running back and forth would be exhausting. Zhong Yao had to stay here for two more days.

Director Jin’s crews never spoiled actors. A single room meant a literal single bed, and it’s barely wide enough for one. And with this weather, even switching on hotel heating took a day or two to stabilize. Zhong Yao couldn’t bear the idea of letting Lin Zhu suffer here with him.

As warmth slowly returned, Lin Zhu’s face flushed slightly. He gathered his courage and whispered, “Actually… squeezing in isn’t… a problem…”

Zhong Yao paused.

Lin Zhu’s face grew even hotter, and he ducked into the broad collar of Zhong Yao’s jacket.

Zhong Yao stared at him for a while. Then, he couldn’t help but laugh softly. He rubbed Lin Zhu’s head when no one was watching. 

“Really okay?”

Lin Zhu’s heart thumped wildly. He pressed his lips together and nodded.

He had slept in straw piles and beside dumpsters. He was really not picky. When he came earlier, he had taken a look and yes, it was a single room. But it had carpet, a bathroom, and an AC unit. It wasn’t bad at all. They just needed to be careful not to get photographed, and even that could be handled by leaving before dawn.

And he could warm the bed for Zhong Yao…

Full of expectations, Lin Zhu lifted his gaze, eyes sparkling.

Zhong Yao’s smile lingered in his eyes. He cleared his throat softly.

“I have work.”

Lin Zhu deflated instantly, sipping his coffee like a wilting plant.

If he had a tail, it would have drooped to the floor. The deeper Zhong Yao’s smile grew, the gentler his tone became.

“Go to the hotel. Sleep well tonight. I’ll video call you later.”

Lin Zhu seized the chance. One trick was better than none. “Video calls use data—”

Zhong Yao raised a brow.

Lin Zhu: “……”

He instantly regretted signing Zhong Yao up for that unlimited data plan during the Mid-Autumn Festival. Heart sinking, he sighed softly and shuffled a little closer. “Then… don’t kick me out yet. Let me stay a little longer. Just a little. Then I’ll go back…”

Zhong Yao’s heart melted beyond words. He pulled him closer.

The film base was far. Even by plane, it took four to five hours. With the turbulence from the rain, the planning manager had gotten airsick and vomited several times.

Lin Zhu had only just recovered from his last illness after days of careful care. No matter how reluctant they were, he had to get a full night’s proper rest to keep himself healthy.

He curved his eyes and called the assistant to fetch two hot-water bottles, then leaned in closer to Zhong Yao.

He knew exactly what Zhong Yao was worried about.

It was the change of seasons. He knew his physical condition. Add the change of environment and getting soaked in the rain. If he fell sick again, it would be a mess.

He just wanted to stay longer. Seeing Zhong Yao no longer urging him to leave, Lin Zhu was content. Quietly, peacefully, he leaned against him and opened the script.

But among a group of veteran actors, a little fresh-faced newcomer like him sitting at Zhong Yao’s side didn’t stay unnoticed for long.

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  this made more sense in Chinese, Lin Zhu switched in referring to Zhong Yao from using “ni 你” to the more respectful “nin 您”. I adjusted as making Lin Zhu speaking more formally.