After dinner, the production manager suggested going to karaoke. The group set off in a grand procession to Cassini, the same club where Qi Bailu had first been introduced to Ruan Qiuji by Zheng Kunyu. Qi Bailu had wanted to leave before they departed, but Zheng Kunyu wouldn't allow it. His exact words were: "Don't be a killjoy."
There was a hint of a reprimand in his tone. At that moment, the production team had already headed down, and they were waiting for the next elevator. Chen Xiangfeng stood beside Zheng Kunyu and joked, "Is Mr. Zheng always this fierce with Bailu?"
Zheng Kunyu didn't look at Chen Xiangfeng. Staring straight ahead, he said coolly, "Is 'Bailu' a name you're entitled to call him?"
Cheng Wenhui shot a silent glance at Chen Xiangfeng. Chen Xiangfeng hadn't expected Zheng Kunyu to snap over such a trivial matter. Realizing his slip of the tongue but unable to read anything from Zheng Kunyu’s inscrutable expression, he turned to Qi Bailu and said earnestly, "Xiao Qi, Mr. Zheng just wants you to spend more time with him."
Qi Bailu kept his eyes down and remained silent. Director Xue Fang and Ruan Qiuji were standing right in front of them. Ruan Qiuji was looking down at his phone, but his finger paused on the screen when he heard Zheng Kunyu’s remark. Their blurred reflections were cast upon the elevator doors; when the doors finally slid open, the shadows parted, and their true forms were revealed clearly in the mirrored interior, looking for all the world like the opening act of a grand drama.
Ruan Qiuji tucked his phone away and stepped into the elevator. As he turned to stand, Zheng Kunyu followed him in. Ruan Qiuji glanced at Qi Bailu, who was standing toward the front. Because of his short buzz cut, the contours of Qi Bailu's features felt more pronounced. He was still as thin as ever, as if his very bones had been fashioned from winter plum branches.
During the audition today, Ruan Qiuji had felt as though he were looking at a different person. He had never seen Qi Bailu with hair this short, not even in his films. It wasn't until Qi Bailu lowered his head to light a cigarette at the dinner table that Ruan Qiuji knew he was still the same man. Even if a person changed their skin, wore different makeup, or acted out someone else's life, certain things would never change.
Upon arriving at Cassini, they were met with the familiar rose-red corridors—a step into a world of decadent pleasure. This time, no matter how many cigarettes Qi Bailu smoked, Zheng Kunyu was too occupied to care. Qi Bailu sat with Cheng Wenhui in a dark corner of the sofa, listening to him chat with Xue Fang. Xue Fang was only twenty-seven, a graduate of the Beijing Film Academy just like Qi Bailu. Having come from a formal directing background, he possessed a certain scholarly air and wasn't as uninhibited as Zheng Kunyu or Ruan Qiuji. When people tried to pull him into the festivities, he simply waved them off, eventually relenting only to let a hostess who was delivering fruit platters sit beside him.
Many of those present had drunk too much and were spouting nonsense. The production manager had a hostess tucked under each arm and demanded to see someone dance. Consequently, a hostess wearing only a slip dress was hoisted onto a table. Alcohol splashed everywhere, and amidst the rhythmic, driving music, laughter and screams filled the air.
A young actress who had been called over midway through the night approached Qi Bailu, looking as though she wanted to strike up a conversation. Cheng Wenhui gave her a look that signaled "leave," but the actress ignored him and sat down next to him anyway. Holding up a glass, she asked, "Care for a drink, brother?"
"I'm just a manager," Cheng Wenhui replied.
The actress smiled and tucked her own manager's business card into Cheng Wenhui's hand, saying they should collaborate when he had time. Before she could finish, she stood up and sat next to Xue Fang, inquiring about who he was. Unable to withstand her persistence, Xue Fang had a few drinks with her and no longer had time to talk to Cheng Wenhui.
Long accustomed to such scenes, Cheng Wenhui leaned back against the sofa and looked at Qi Bailu. A very thin, faint sneer played on Qi Bailu's face. Cheng Wenhui said sternly, "Smoke less."
Qi Bailu glanced at him and took another slow drag, his expression saying, *Make me.* Cheng Wenhui looked at the business card in his hand, stuffed it into a crack in the sofa, and checked the time on his phone. Qi Bailu knew Cheng Wenhui had a wife and child at home in Beijing and was likely itching to leave. It was the end of the year, after all; family men always wanted to spend more time with their loved ones.
"You should go," Qi Bailu said.
Cheng Wenhui hesitated. "Will you be alright on your own?"
Qi Bailu nodded. His mouth felt dry from the smoking, so he leaned down to pick up a glass from the coffee table. "It won't make a difference if you're gone."
His words were teasing, but the underlying thoughtfulness was something Cheng Wenhui could feel. He had already intended to stand up, but he lingered. Qi Bailu added, "I'll tell him I'm the one who let you go."
Cheng Wenhui looked at him, seemingly wanting to say thank you, but the words didn't come out. He knew Zheng Kunyu would take Qi Bailu home and that his safety wasn't an issue. He patted Qi Bailu on the shoulder. "I'm heading out then. Get some good sleep when you get back. Don't overthink things; let the audition results happen naturally."
As he stood up, he still felt a bit uneasy. He turned back. "Those scripts I gave you last time..."
"We'll talk after the New Year," Qi Bailu said tonelessly, his intent to shoo him away clear. The spots of light cast by the disco ball shifted across his face; his eyes were ignited for an instant, then extinguished in the darkness the next. In that flicker between light and shadow, it was impossible to tell if those eyes were heartless or full of longing.
Once Cheng Wenhui left, bursts of loud laughter erupted from the adjacent sofa. Qi Bailu followed the sound and saw that someone had smashed a bottle. The crowd thinned out slightly, allowing him to see the people sitting there. Ruan Qiuji wasn't singing; instead, he was holding a glass and looking at his phone. The hostess beside him held a piece of watermelon on a toothpick to his lips, and he mindlessly opened his mouth to take a bite. The only reason Qi Bailu had noticed him first was because the light from the phone illuminated his features.
Ruan Qiuji seemed exceptionally sensitive to the gaze of others. A few seconds later, he suddenly looked up and found Qi Bailu's position, but Qi Bailu had already shifted his gaze to Zheng Kunyu. Zheng Kunyu was facing away from him, deep in conversation with the executive producer, seemingly discussing serious business. After a while, Chen Xiangfeng joined them. Because the sofa was crowded, he dropped down as if from the sky and sat directly on Zheng Kunyu's lap. Zheng Kunyu didn't push him away; instead, as Chen Xiangfeng spoke to him with a smile, Zheng casually rested his hand on the younger man's back and leaned in to listen.
They were so close it almost looked like a kiss. Qi Bailu found it interesting—intensely interesting. He simply felt a splitting headache, a sense of weary emptiness amidst the revelry. He stood up and left the private room for the restroom. The rose-red corridor felt as though it would never end.
Qi Bailu washed his hands and returned. Just as he reached out to push the door, it opened from the inside. The scents of smoke, alcohol, perfume, and powder came rushing out. Qi Bailu’s hand remained suspended in the air, and both he and the person inside were startled by the coincidence. Ruan Qiuji took a step forward, letting the door click shut behind him. Only then did Qi Bailu drop his hand and make way.
Ruan Qiuji was silent for a moment before asking, "Did you go to take your medicine?"
"No," Qi Bailu shook his head.
Ruan Qiuji stared at his face. Qi Bailu walked past him and placed his hand on the door handle. Ruan Qiuji didn't stop him, but he called out, "Bailu." His voice was so soft it felt like a hallucination. Qi Bailu thought he was going to say something, but Ruan Qiuji said nothing more. He glanced down the hallway and quickly turned toward the restroom. After their eyes disconnected, they simply brushed past one another.
Qi Bailu had forgotten what time they finally headed back. Later on, he had been forced to participate in a round of toasts. By the time Zheng Kunyu pulled him into the car, he was exhausted and drowsy. The driver took them home. He must have fallen asleep in the car, because when Zheng Kunyu woke him, his head was resting on Zheng Kunyu’s shoulder. Qi Bailu looked up into Zheng Kunyu’s dark, heavy eyes. He couldn't describe the feeling, only that his face ached from being pressed against the man's bone. Zheng Kunyu was still smoking in the car, and the fumes made him feel nauseous.
He got out of the car and walked into the house like a sleepwalker, only then realizing they were at the lakeside villa. Zheng Kunyu had followed him in silently. Qi Bailu ignored him; Zheng Kunyu had his own bedroom here. He went to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and grabbed a cup of yogurt. He stood in the darkness without turning on the light. A small patch of dim light from the living room fell onto the kitchen floor. He used the plastic spoon to slowly finish the large cup of yogurt. The coldness of it cleared his head, and the last traces of sleepiness vanished.
Qi Bailu walked out. Zheng Kunyu had already gone upstairs to shower. Standing by the guest bedroom door, Qi Bailu could hear the sound of water from the bathroom. He didn't linger, turning instead toward his own bedroom.
When they had returned, there was a light rain outside—perhaps sleet. It had made a rustling sound against the car windows. While Qi Bailu’s soft cheek had been pressed against his shoulder, a gust of wind and rain had blown past, and the sound of the falling sleet had grown louder. Zheng Kunyu had been somewhat tipsy, but the shower had cleared much of it away. He lifted his face from the towel, picked up his glasses from the vanity, and walked out while settling them onto the bridge of his nose.
Qi Bailu wasn't anywhere else; he was in his own bedroom, and the door wasn't closed. Zheng Kunyu pushed the ajar door open and saw Qi Bailu taking clothes out of the wardrobe one by one, folding them neatly, and placing them into a small red feminine suitcase on the floor.
Zheng Kunyu watched in silence for a while. Qi Bailu was half-kneeling on the floor in rabbit-hair slippers, his pale ankles exposed. Qi Bailu knew he was standing at the door, yet he continued folding the clothes with meticulous care.
Suddenly, Zheng Kunyu spoke. "Where are you going?"
A moment later, Qi Bailu looked up, his back still turned to the man. His eyes were fixed on the blank wall. His tone carried a deliberate, emphasized resolve as he spoke slowly.
"I'm leaving you."
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Countless Blossoms: The Actor's Gamble | Chapter 27 | Sleet and Severance | Novela.app | Novela.app
