By mid-October, the teaser posters and stills for *Afternoon Youth* were released. The film faced no technical hurdles; post-production was completed swiftly, and it passed censorship. Barring any accidents, it would hit theaters the following month. Qi Bailu had not seen the final cut, but Zheng Kunyu had. He even recorded a short clip and sent it to him.
At the time, the university was holding its annual sports meet. Qi Bailu was passing by the track when he stopped under a tree to watch the few minutes of video. After finishing, he replied to Zheng Kunyu’s message. To his surprise, before he could even leave the shade of the tree, Zheng Kunyu called to ask if he was free for lunch. Qi Bailu had no classes that afternoon, so he naturally had the time.
"I’ll be staying in Beijing for a while," Zheng Kunyu said. "I won't leave you halfway through the meal like last time."
The music from the stadium loudspeakers was a bit loud. Qi Bailu leaned against a green-painted wire fence, covering one ear with his hand. He didn't quite catch the latter half of the sentence, but he didn't want to ask him to repeat it. He simply held the phone close and listened.
"The car is waiting at the school gate," Zheng Kunyu added.
"Now?" Qi Bailu was startled.
"Mhm. You know the license plate." Zheng Kunyu’s tone was casual, and he hung up immediately after speaking.
Qi Bailu wanted to refuse because his uncle was supposed to visit him at school today, though the exact time was uncertain. But before he could speak, the line went dead. Qi Bailu had no choice but to turn toward the school gate. When he arrived, he saw the familiar white Cadillac. The car was far too conspicuous parked there; students coming and going couldn't help but stare. Qi Bailu pulled open the door and hurriedly climbed inside.
Zheng Kunyu was waiting in the back seat. Since he had made a reservation in advance, Qi Bailu didn't want to slight him by mentioning his need to return to school. Once they arrived at the restaurant, Zheng Kunyu seemed to be in high spirits—likely due to some new success in his career—and even opened a bottle of wine, inviting Qi Bailu to join him. Qi Bailu only knew that Zheng Kunyu’s new drama had been performing well recently; he didn't understand the intricacies of his other business ventures. He only cared about acting and knew next to nothing about the inner workings of the film and television industry.
Halfway through the meal, Zheng Kunyu pushed a contract toward Qi Bailu. Qi Bailu knew Zheng Kunyu’s company had a talent management department and had suspected this was the reason for his interest, but seeing the contract laid out before him was still a surprise. Although the terms Zheng Kunyu offered were very enticing, Qi Bailu thought for a long time before placing his hand on the document and gently pushing it back, declining the proposal.
Zheng Kunyu seemingly hadn't expected a refusal. His gaze darkened behind his glasses. "Don't be in a hurry," he said. "You can go back and think about it. Give me an answer in a few days."
Since he put it that way, Qi Bailu had no choice but to tuck the contract into his backpack. Zheng Kunyu watched him, poured a glass of wine, and drained it. Then, his expression returned to normal as he chatted about other things, as if the contract hadn't been his primary objective at all.
In the afternoon, the driver took them back to the university. Zheng Kunyu didn't leave immediately but insisted on walking him all the way back to his dormitory. The October weather wasn't as hot anymore, but the sun was still bright. Qi Bailu wore a baseball cap as he walked beside Zheng Kunyu. Since the film wrapped, Qi Bailu hadn't had a chance to cut his hair; it had grown to shoulder length. If one wasn't paying attention, he could easily be mistaken for a girl. As a cool early-autumn breeze blew against them, Zheng Kunyu glanced over and saw him tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear.
Zheng Kunyu asked if he found such long hair bothersome in the heat. Noticing the other man's gaze, Qi Bailu replied, "Once you get used to it, you don't really notice."
Shimmering light and shadows filtered through the green leaves of the London plane trees, the dappled spots seeming to follow them as they walked. The path to the dormitory wasn't actually long, but that day it felt as if they walked for an eternity—so long that Qi Bailu later wondered if he had remembered the way correctly.
After they said their goodbyes, Qi Bailu called his uncle, Zhou Xiaozhi. To his surprise, a familiar ringtone sounded nearby almost instantly. Qi Bailu froze and looked up to see Zhou Xiaozhi standing in the shadow of the dormitory building. He was dressed formally in a suit. Because of the crowd of students passing by, Qi Bailu hadn't noticed him earlier.
Zhou Xiaozhi was a civil servant in their hometown. Qi Bailu had moved in with his family when he was fourteen. Zhou Xiaozhi walked over, carrying a bag, his eyes filled with ill-concealed curiosity as he watched Zheng Kunyu’s retreating figure. "Lulu, was that man you were talking to one of your professors?"
Qi Bailu didn't answer, asking somewhat coldly instead, "Have you eaten lunch?"
"Not yet."
Qi Bailu turned to lead him toward the cafeteria. Zhou Xiaozhi followed, still prying. "Is your professor that rich? Did you see his watch? Was it a Patek Philippe?"
"I told you not to call me that in public."
Zhou Xiaozhi didn't get angry. Like many Chinese parents, he felt that no matter how old a child grew, they were still a child. Seeing that Qi Bailu didn't know what a Patek Philippe was, he patiently began to educate him. Qi Bailu didn't interrupt, letting him drone on with his sanctimonious air.
Even after talking so much, Zhou Xiaozhi hadn't forgotten the stranger who had been so close to Qi Bailu. Once they sat down, the conversation turned back to Zheng Kunyu. Having raised Qi Bailu, Zhou Xiaozhi could tell at a glance that the boy was hiding something. But no matter how much he pressed, Qi Bailu remained silent. Because of the incident with the photographer last year, the relationship between Qi Bailu and Zhou Xiaozhi had become very strained, only recently showing signs of improvement. Seeing Qi Bailu’s dark expression and receiving no response, Zhou Xiaozhi felt a bit sheepish and changed the subject.
The cafeteria was nearly empty at this hour. Qi Bailu ordered a bowl of noodles for Zhou Xiaozhi. When the number was called at the window, he stood up to get the food, telling Zhou Xiaozhi to watch his bag. He never imagined that the moment he stepped away, Zhou Xiaozhi would take the liberty of rummaging through his backpack and find the unsigned contract.
By the time Qi Bailu returned, Zhou Xiaozhi was holding the contract, asking if he was planning to sign with an agency. Assuming Qi Bailu was intentionally hiding a lucrative job opportunity from him, he even began to make snide remarks about him being "ungrateful."
Before he could even set down the tray, Qi Bailu reached out and snatched the contract away. "I'm not signing it," he answered clearly.
Zhou Xiaozhi grew angry at this. "There you go again with that nonsense about waiting until graduation to take roles. Look at how many stars your age are already famous! Your classmates are out filming left and right!"
Then Zhou Xiaozhi started rambling about how "Little Fresh Meat" was the current market trend—filming idol dramas and appearing on variety shows was the fast track to wealth. For Qi Bailu, this was a golden opportunity. He had only earned thirty thousand yuan for *Afternoon Youth*; why suffer through these arthouse films that might never bring him success?
He nagged incessantly, saying Qi Bailu listened to his teachers too much, and pointedly reminded him not to forget his father’s gambling debts—and not to forget that his real surname was Zhou. Qi Bailu’s face grew increasingly pale until he finally snapped, his voice sharp and harsh. "The money he owes is his own business! It has nothing to do with me, even if he's dead! I will pay you back every cent of my tuition, but I don't need anyone else to dictate my life."
Qi Bailu remained unmoved by his suggestions and even blamed him for overstepping his bounds, showing no intention of saving his uncle's face. Having reached this point, Zhou Xiaozhi could only throw up his hands and promise not to bring it up again. He picked up his chopsticks and began to eat listlessly. The bowl of noodles on the table had already gone cold; cilantro and grease floated on the surface of the broth, looking nauseating. It had been a long time since Qi Bailu had been this angry; even after several minutes, he was still trembling. He turned his face away and didn't speak another word to Zhou Xiaozhi until they left the cafeteria.
Because the encounter with Zhou Xiaozhi had been so unpleasant, Qi Bailu didn't want to dwell on the matter. Two days later, he called Zheng Kunyu. He first thanked him for his kindness and then explained that he wanted to focus on his studies, saying he would consider signing with an agency after graduation. Zheng Kunyu didn't say much, only wishing him well in his studies. His voice sounded calm, seemingly unbothered by the rejection. Qi Bailu breathed a sigh of relief.
Once that topic was settled, Zheng Kunyu said casually over the phone, "Since you've refused me on that, you can't decline dinner again. How about Saturday?"
He was being so polite that Qi Bailu had no reason to refuse. Zheng Kunyu had always been the one treating him to meals; Qi Bailu knew he owed him a favor, so he said somewhat sheepishly, "How about I treat you this time? You pick the place."
A second later, Zheng Kunyu seemed to let out a very soft laugh. Qi Bailu didn't know what he was laughing at—was he laughing at his overestimation of his own means? After all, he likely couldn't afford the restaurants Zheng Kunyu frequented. But Qi Bailu didn't want to be indebted to him.
Zheng Kunyu seemed to see right through his intention to settle the score. His laughter was like an embroidery needle, quickly vanishing into the silk brocade of the conversation. Finally, he replied with a faint "Alright."
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