MACRM Chapter 59

He hadn’t expected to run into Zhong Yao in a situation like this. The momentum Lin Zhu had built up evaporated more than half in an instant. He quickly told his big brother not to worry, and under Lin Song’s stern orders to have the assistant check which people in the entertainment industry had the surname “Li,” he decisively hung up the phone.

Zhong Yao had probably only stepped out to get some air. He wore just a shirt; among the northern crew members already wrapped up in winter coats, he looked unusually thin.

Lin Zhu hurried over and handed him his coat. “Zhong-laoshi—”

Zhong Yao rubbed his hair and didn’t respond. Instead, he pulled him behind himself.

By this point, anyone could see what was going on. Li Yijie cursed under his breath, looking gloomy. He turned to leave, but Zhong Yao raised a hand and blocked his way.

“Looking for trouble?”

Li Yijie had already been holding in anger. Seeing this, his expression darkened further. He raised a hand and shoved him. “Enough already! You kept quiet at the opening ceremony—act smart now. You think you’re some senior just because people call you ‘Laoshi’?!”

Still furious, he lifted his gaze to explode, but his voice abruptly stopped.

Zhong Yao rotated his wrist and effortlessly locked onto Li Yijie’s, then gently pushed him back into place.

His expression was calm, with no hint of anger. But for some reason, Li Yijie felt guilty under his gaze, that odd surge of fear from earlier rising again. He instinctively stepped back two steps.

Zhong Yao gave him a mild smile, unhurried. “Li-laoshi, apologize.”

A chill went down Li Yijie’s spine for no reason.

He was used to being coddled. Ever since joining this production, he’d been repeatedly humiliated and felt he’d already endured enough. He absolutely wasn’t going to bow his head now. But with Zhong Yao suppressing him completely in presence alone, the temper he wanted to unleash simply wouldn’t come out, exposing a clear disadvantage.

Realizing what he looked like, Li Yijie’s face instantly darkened. He moved forward—but his agent quickly grabbed him.

The agent forced a smile, trying to smooth things over. “Alright, alright, no one did it on purpose…”

Zhong Yao’s popularity was at its peak, and the fans who’d just entered the fandom were the most aggressive. If trouble broke out, no one could predict who would come out losing.

The agent didn’t even look at Lin Zhu, assuming that Zhong Yao was still upset about his team arguing with the crew earlier about the group photos at the opening ceremony. He quickly offered Zhong Yao a cigarette. “I just didn’t notice earlier. He’s your assistant? We’ll have our side prepare some small gifts for the young man later. Following Zhong-laoshi around isn’t easy…”

Zhong Yao cut him off. “Let me introduce him. He’s my agent, Lin Zhu.”

The agent’s smile froze.

Zhong Yao looked up. Even the polite smile on his face faded. His tone was mild, flat. “Li-laoshi, apologize.”

He rarely showed this side of himself. The moment he did, not only did Li Yijie’s team fall silent, even the deputy directors who had followed over fell quiet instantly. They exchanged looks and subtly took a few steps back.

Lin Zhu had no idea. He still stood behind Zhong Yao, sleeves rolled up, peeking out fearlessly. Half preparing to rush forward first if a fight broke out, half sending a few red packets to PR as a precaution.

Li Yijie’s face slowly turned pale.

Before joining the project, he’d been warned not to get into conflict with Zhong Yao, but no one had told him why.

Back when Zhong Yao was sweeping awards throughout film and television, Li Yijie hadn’t even begun transitioning into acting, so they’d had no interactions.

Three years later, when Zhong Yao returned from seclusion, he had been protected by his agent so thoroughly that he never suffered even the slightest grievance. Anything that even resembled trouble was immediately snuffed out, let alone conflicts.

He was the first idiot to provoke Zhong Yao. He had never imagined someone could suppress him with just a few calm words, so much so that he couldn’t even speak. The hallway felt suffocatingly tense, and no one dared step forward to ease things.

Jaw clenched, his complexion slowly regained color. Through gritted teeth, he forced out, “Sorry,” then turned and hurried downstairs without looking back.

The hallway remained silent. A producer accidentally dropped his lighter, the clatter echoing loudly.

His face went white as he scrambled to pick it up. “Sorry, sorry…”

Zhong Yao said nothing. He greeted a few familiar crew members politely, picked up the congee and breakfast on the windowsill, and rubbed Lin Zhu’s hair. “Let’s go.”

It was the first time Lin Zhu realized fighting could be done this way. His heart surged with excitement. He didn’t even have time to reply to PR’s rapid-fire panicked messages. He quickly followed behind.

They had walked quite far before relieved sighs were heard behind them one after another.

“If something like this happens again, come to me. Don’t handle it yourself.”

Zhong Yao spoke calmly as he opened the door with one hand, gently reminding him, “As for people from Tianying Entertainment, I’ve dealt with them before. They’re used to throwing their weight around, and sometimes they don’t know their own strength. They can easily cause trouble. Frighten them a bit, and they behave.”

It was the first time he’d shown this side of himself in front of Lin Zhu. After entering the room, he placed the breakfast on the cabinet and turned, only to freeze slightly when he met Lin Zhu’s gaze.

He had deliberately made an example out of Li Yijie, wanting to establish authority before joining the team for his agent’s sake. In front of veteran crew members he’d worked with multiple times, he had easily summoned a sharp presence. But now, the former film emperor suddenly felt his throat tightening.

Zhong Yao cleared his throat. “…Aren’t you afraid of me?”

“Afraid of what? Ge, you were super cool just now!”

Lin Zhu was still buzzing with excitement. He circled around Zhong Yao nonstop, already rambling. “I always wanted to be that strong too! Then when I go out, I wouldn’t even need to threaten or fight for resources. I just stand menacingly and get my way! But I guess I need the body for that… I’ll train more muscle…”

Zhong Yao stared at him in slight surprise, warmth slowly gathering in his eyes.

After all that fuss, the breakfast was getting cold. Lin Zhu kept talking while cleaning up spilled congee, checking the still-warm shrimp dumplings and soup buns protected inside the takeout bag, satisfied as he set them out.

The congee was half cold. Knowing exactly where everything was in the room he had prepared for Zhong Yao, Lin Zhu went to get the small pot to heat it up.

“To be honest, I feel like only people from our team call me ‘Lin-laoshi’ sincerely!”

This had bothered Lin Zhu for a long time. Finally having a chance to complain, he couldn’t stop talking. “Everyone else, when they call me that, I can feel their insincerity! Even if they say it nicely, I feel like they’re targeting me…”

Zhong Yao was speechless. He raised a hand and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His chest faintly warm.

Lin Zhu had been holding this in too long. He kept fussing around while muttering nonstop.

Zhong Yao gave a helpless sigh, then reached out and wrapped him into his arms with one hand.

Lin Zhu:：“……!”

Lin Zhu fumbled in a panic, barely managing to stop speaking. The porridge in his hands almost spilled again, but Zhong Yao caught it quickly and poured it steadily into the pot, turning on the heat in one smooth motion.

Zhong Yao couldn’t bring himself to tell him that even their own team wasn’t sincere. He tightened his arm, pulling him into his chest, his voice soft and earnest. “Lin-laoshi…”

Lin Zhu’s face flushed, and he couldn’t help getting carried away. “Right, right, calling me like that is great. I should make them all learn from you—”

Zhong Yao smiled and finished the end of the sentence for him. “…Can I kiss you?”

Lin Zhu went hot from head to toe in an instant.

Zhong Yao held him close, his fingertips brushing the burning-hot skin behind Lin Zhu’s ear. He lowered his head, and his lips gently touched Lin Zhu’s forehead.

Lin Zhu was completely dazed, barely managing not to explode on the spot in Zhong Yao’s arms. He blurted out, “W-we—has it… been half a month yet…”

Zhong Yao shook his head, pulling back a little to let him adjust. “Not yet.”

The warmth drew back, and frustration flared in Lin Zhu’s chest. He couldn’t help mentally punching himself.

Why bring that up?!

They finally had a chance to skip ahead in the plot!

Just thinking of Zhong Yao’s “must date for half a month before possibly considering a first kiss” rule gave Lin Zhu a headache. He was about to find a way to swallow those words back down when Zhong Yao pulled him in again, and gentle kisses fell.

Zhong Yao: “Since we’ve had a scapegoat now, we can advance the relationship a bit. And also…”

Zhong Yao didn’t finish the sentence. Hugging Lin Zhu, he slowly kissed the corner of his lips.

And also, he was almost unable to hold back anymore.

The farthest Lin Zhu had ever stolen was a forehead kiss; he had nowhere near the methodical, incremental expertise of the former movie emperor, who relied on his manager being asleep. Dizzied by the kiss, he babbled nonsense, “Scapegoat worked so hard, thank the scapegoat…”

Zhong Yao let out a soft laugh, lowered his head, aligned their lips, and kissed him earnestly.

…

A moment later, Lin Zhu escaped with a beet-red face, circling the room like a little spinning top, belatedly lifting his phone and searching all over for cameras.

Zhong Yao was getting dizzy watching him. He reacted quickly, reached out, grabbed him, and pushed him gently back onto the sofa. “There’s no surveillance. I checked last night.”

“Good, good…” Lin Zhu patted his chest with relief, rubbed his face hard twice, and after a moment he couldn’t stop it. His lips curled up in a grin.

They kissed already!

The progress was unbelievably fast. If it weren’t raining outside, he could be running laps right now!

Traumatized by the “no kissing until half a month passes” rule, Lin Zhu was completely satisfied with their current pace. Every now and then he’d steal a glance at Zhong Yao, so happy he practically wanted to set off fireworks.

Zhong Yao stirred the porridge in the pot, unable to hold back a smile. He rubbed Lin Zhu’s hair, got up to bring out two bowls, and portioned the porridge again. “Did you sleep well yesterday? Is the hotel comfortable?”

“I slept great!”

Lin Zhu’s eyes lit up instantly. He followed behind, helping fetch chopsticks and spoons. “Ge, do you have work tomorrow? Can we stay at the hotel tonight? I tested the route today. It’s really fast, no traffic at all…”

Zhong Yao originally planned to run two scene rehearsals with the directing team in the morning. Hearing this, he paused and thought for a moment. “Okay. We’ll head over tomorrow.”

They could go home together!!

Lin Zhu was so happy he felt like sprouting leaves. He could hardly contain the excitement in his chest and lifted his bowl to take a sip of porridge.

…The next second, joy turned to tragedy. He scalded his tongue completely off guard.

Zhong Yao laughed and swapped his own, slightly cooled porridge with Lin Zhu’s. He handed him a spoon. “Slow down. Don’t burn yourself.”

Lin Zhu was badly scalded, sucking in sharp breaths again and again, but still too excited to care. He agreed obediently and stirred his porridge slowly.

Both of them were starving. They lowered their heads and dug into breakfast while it was hot. Zhong Yao lifted the pot to add porridge to Lin Zhu’s bowl and noticed the untouched half plate of shrimp dumplings and xiaolongbao in front of him. His brows shifted slightly.

Lin Zhu stirred his porridge for a long time. Once it cooled down enough, he lifted the bowl and slurped it mouthful by mouthful.

Zhong Yao picked up a shrimp dumpling and offered it. “Open your mouth.”

Lin Zhu instinctively looked up and opened his mouth. After watching him eat the shrimp dumpling, Zhong Yao picked up a xiaolongbao and fed it to him.

Lin Zhu had never been pampered to the point of needing someone to feed him, and he felt embarrassed. His cheeks warmed. “Ge, I can do it myself.”

He didn’t want Zhong Yao to notice anything. Bracing himself, he picked up the chopsticks, hesitated just slightly, then managed to spear a xiaolongbao accurately. He was about to drop it into his porridge bowl when a hand gently held his wrist.

Zhong Yao wrapped his fingers around Lin Zhu’s right wrist, his gaze falling on him.

Lin Zhu’s face heated. “Ge…”

Zhong Yao studied him for a moment, then stood and went to dig through his luggage.

Lin Zhu rose instinctively to follow, but Zhong Yao pressed his head down and nudged him gently back into his seat.

“Did you hurt it earlier?”

Zhong Yao took out a roll of medical wrist support and sat beside him, setting Lin Zhu’s right hand on his knee. “I shouldn’t have let Li Yijie go so easily… Does it hurt a lot? Can you move it?”

Lin Zhu’s heartbeat sped up. He shook his head lightly. “It’s not that…”

Li Yijie really had only pushed him casually. He couldn’t be blamed for this.

Lin Zhu flexed his right hand lightly. Not knowing how to explain, he instinctively avoided Zhong Yao’s eyes. “It’s an old injury. When I was a kid, I was messing around and accidentally fractured my wrist. I didn’t dare tell the adults, so treatment was delayed… Usually it’s fine! It just hurts on rainy or cloudy days and loses strength…”

Normally it just hurt a bit, but he could tolerate it. But earlier, since he hadn’t prepared for the push, his wrist hit the wall, and now he really couldn’t use any force.

It wasn’t really a big deal. He could take some painkillers, rest the wrist, use it less, and things would return to normal once the weather cleared.

Lin Zhu wasn’t used to having his discomfort brought into the light like this. He raised a hand to rub his ear, trying to withdraw his wrist. “It’s really nothing! Ge, I’m definitely not stubborn. I know how to manage it. I just need to rest the wrist a bit. Once it’s sunny, I’ll be totally fine…”

Zhong Yao listened quietly, his gaze softening as it settled fully on Lin Zhu.

He leaned forward, lifted an arm under Lin Zhu’s armpits, and pulled him entirely into his embrace.

Lin Zhu: “!!”

Lin Zhu immediately went mute, turning stiff and obedient like a little braised bamboo shoot.

Zhong Yao: “I know. It’s okay. Don’t be nervous.”

Zhong Yao rubbed the back of his neck, soothing him softly, wrapping the elastic bandage around his wrist layer by layer.

Once it was fastened, Zhong Yao flipped his hand over and brushed his fingertips over the obvious scar on Lin Zhu’s palm. “This is from back then too?”

Lin Zhu had prepared himself for anger, but Zhong Yao sounded even gentler than usual. His heartbeat slowly steadied. He nodded unconsciously.

Zhong Yao nodded back lightly, asked nothing more, released his embrace and let Lin Zhu sit beside him. He brought the porridge bowl over and chided softly, “You look so steady as an adult, but how were you even more mischievous than me as a kid…”

The heart that had been hanging suspended for so long finally settled softly under such careful gentleness. Lin Zhu stared blankly at him and couldn’t help whispering, “You… were mischievous as a kid too?”

“Mhm. When I went back to my hometown as a kid, I got chased onto the roof by a goose.”

Zhong Yao smiled, putting two shrimp dumplings in Lin Zhu’s bowl and letting him eat slowly. At the same time, he told stories. “And a plow ox. It’s a yellow cow, a male. I didn’t know anything at the time and tried to figure out how it produced milk. I was nearly kicked into the mud ditch…”

Lin Zhu stared in disbelief, covering his eyes in agony. “Ge, stop. If you tell me, I can’t help imagining it, and then you instantly stop looking cool to me…”

Zhong Yao chuckled. “I’m not cool to begin with. People say I look fierce. I was a class monitor in school, and people said I was like the discipline director. No one wanted to play with me.”

“That’s presence. You don’t look like a teacher at all. Your classmates were scared because you carry authority without even trying. That presence is great for acting. One look is full of drama, and the audiences love it.”

Lin Zhu couldn’t stand hearing him belittle himself and straightened up to lecture him seriously. “What’s there to fear if they had nothing to hide? They must’ve been breaking rules, slacking off, skipping homework to play games. No need to feel bad over people like that…”

Zhong Yao listened quietly, the corners of his eyes softening. “You’re right.”

He paused for a moment, then smiled lightly and rubbed Lin Zhu’s head. “I was actually a bit sad about it earlier, but after hearing you, I don’t feel bad at all.”

Lin Zhu’s sense of accomplishment shot through the roof. He nodded repeatedly, lips unconsciously lifting.

Zhong Yao looked at him, warmth reflecting in his eyes, and added porridge to both their bowls. “Though I was mischievous, when it comes to injuries, most of them are from acting.”

Lin Zhu’s heart tightened. He quickly put down his bowl. “Where were you hurt? Does it still bother you? Old wounds itch or get hot when it rains. You need ointment, then. I’ve got a bunch with me…”

In costume dramas, getting injured was too common. Fans all knew that aside from his face, Zhong Yao had been injured everywhere. It was just that contracts kept the company and crew from admitting it publicly. Lin Zhu had been worrying about this for a long time.

Zhong Yao rarely showed his scars to anyone. But seeing Lin Zhu now, he hardened his resolve. He rolled up his sleeve and counted them one by one. “This was from a flying dart. I was in my early twenties, too proud to complain. After filming, the real blood mixed with fake blood. I remembered it scared the director half to death.”

Lin Zhu remembered that drama. “[Hidden Chronicles of Mount Gu]? We all said you had to be injured! After that you never did single-handed swordwork again!”

Zhong Yao let out a soft laugh and nodded. He loosened his collar and opened it slightly. “This one was from shrapnel. Quite a large piece. They put on five or six strips of flesh-tone bandages. Nearly drove the makeup artist insane.”

Lin Zhu pulled at his collar to look, frowning in heartache. “Was that [Night Chase]? Director Jin’s film! We really have to watch him closely this time. Explosive scenes can’t have any accidents…”

Zhong Yao coughed lightly, rubbed the tip of his nose, and ruffled Lin Zhu’s hair, pulling him close at his side. “And here…”

He unbuttoned a few more buttons, lifted one side of his shirt, revealing a rough, prominent scar at his waist.

Lin Zhu: “!!!”

Lin Zhu truly didn’t know the origin of this one. His eyes reddened, and he hurried over, examining it carefully, touching it gently with his fingertips. “How did you get hurt this badly? When did this happen? Why didn’t I know…”

Zhong Yao rubbed his hair. “It was a long time ago. A wire rig malfunctioned, the metal strands loosened and dug in here… I didn’t feel pain at first. After that they sent me to the hospital, but it wasn’t that serious.”

Zhong Yao looked at him, voice gentle. “Luckily they noticed quickly. It didn’t cut too deep, just broke some skin. This one isn’t considered bad. Wire harness scars are stubborn. Some serious ones won’t fade even after ten years…”

Just like the one he had noticed on Lin Zhu’s palm the very first time they shook hands.