Chapter 48 - Popcorn and Shadows
After the long, tumultuous storm of the casting process, *Fierce Spring Water* was finally scheduled to begin filming in Xiamen in early March. Out of various strategic considerations, the production team kept the official cast list under wraps, but rumors and "insider leaks" were already flying across the internet like wildfire.
When Zheng Kunyu learned the news, he called Qi Bailu. He mentioned he would be returning to Beijing in a couple of days, noting with a hint of possessive gravity that they wouldn't be able to see each other often once Qi Bailu joined the film crew. Back then, Zheng Kunyu had promised that this role would be his; now that Qi Bailu had achieved his heart's desire, he felt he ought to say "thank you." Yet, the word felt heavy and foreign, sticking in his throat. In the end, the silence between them remained unbroken until the call ended.
The public was already buzzing with the news that Qi Bailu would be collaborating with the legendary Movie King, Dai Ping. Qi Bailu’s fans were the most elated of all, hoping this foray into a major commercial production would allow him to make his mark, sweep the box office, and bring home a trophy to prove his worth. Only then would he truly have a stable footing in the film industry.
Qi Bailu hadn't posted on Weibo in a long time. Ever since his fallout with Zheng Kunyu two months prior, his manager, Cheng Wenhui, had been sensitive to his moods and hadn't bothered to nag him about social media. Consequently, his feed had remained stagnant for sixty days.
Two days before he was set to depart for Xiamen, Qi Bailu took a stroll through the garden. On a whim, he snapped a few photos of the grass, which was now bursting with the vibrant, stubborn green of early spring, and posted them to his Weibo. As he idly scrolled through his homepage and the comments section, he felt as though he were wandering through a field overgrown with weeds. In just two months, it felt as if he had missed a lifetime of events. His colleagues and former co-stars were all reposting current affairs and news in a synchronized fashion, their avatars dropping down his feed like a repetitive game of Tetris. It was dizzying; he could hardly tell who was who anymore.
Surprisingly, Zheng Kunyu hadn't demanded or reminded him to post anything during this time—no promotional content, no advertisements. Without the pressure of being forced, Qi Bailu found a spark of genuine interest in sharing his life again, especially when he saw that people still remembered and cared for him. When a fan asked when he would be joining the film crew, he held his phone and typed back a simple reply: *The day after tomorrow.*
Among the people he followed, Lin Yuewei seemed to be the only one maintaining a semblance of normalcy. They hadn't seen each other in quite a while; since his return from Paris, they had only shared a single meal. Qi Bailu sent her a message asking if she was free. She replied instantly, explaining she was at her studio discussing business but would be finished soon. She told him to come straight over.
Had Qi Bailu known that the person Lin Yuewei was "discussing business" with was Ruan Qiuji, he might not have chosen to barge in so abruptly. It wasn't that he didn't want to see the man, but as he walked in, he found Lin Yuewei and Ruan Qiuji sitting in the exact same spot they had occupied during their last meeting. Ruan had even brought the same kind of pastries. Although it wasn't raining today—bright, brilliant sunlight splashed across the greenery in the courtyard, the tender new shoots a reminder that spring had arrived—Qi Bailu couldn't help but be transported back to that previous afternoon. A faint, lingering awkwardness settled over him.
Qi Bailu froze the moment he spotted Ruan Qiuji. Lately, their paths seemed to cross with a frequency that felt like a mischievous prank played by fate. Ruan Qiuji noticed him as well. He arched an eyebrow in slight surprise, a piece of hibiscus cake held between his fingers. He leisurely placed the sweet in his mouth and offered Qi Bailu a small, knowing smile.
Lin Yuewei beckoned Qi Bailu over. Knowing they were already acquainted, she didn't pause to make introductions.
Ruan Qiuji truly was there to discuss work. Qi Bailu pulled up a chair and sat quietly, listening to them talk about casting. Ruan Qiuji was hoping to secure a supporting role for a female artist from his own company in Lin Yuewei’s new film, and he had come in person to negotiate. *Boss Ruan certainly treats his employees well,* Qi Bailu thought to himself.
Ultimately, the financial incentive Ruan Qiuji offered was simply too substantial to ignore. After some back-and-forth, Lin Yuewei agreed to meet with the actress. Actors who had the courage to perform in "box-office poison" arthouse films generally fell into two categories: those gambling for a prestigious award to gain fame and fortune, and those with genuine artistic ideals. While Lin Yuewei preferred the latter, she wouldn't reject the former if they possessed actual talent.
Time was tight, and Lin Yuewei couldn't afford to waste money. She decided to meet the actress immediately. As she prepared to leave, Qi Bailu realized his timing couldn't have been worse.
"Do you have time tonight?" Lin Yuewei asked.
Qi Bailu had the whole day to himself—the final taste of freedom before the grueling schedule of the film set began.
Lin Yuewei told him she’d treat him to dinner when she returned. He could wait there or go out and play; after all, he had a key. She seemed to have forgotten that Ruan Qiuji was still in the studio, but she figured two grown men wouldn't run into any trouble. Just as she reached the door, she remembered something. She pointed at Qi Bailu and turned back to Ruan Qiuji. "Tell him about the Blu-ray..."
Ruan Qiuji nodded. Lin Yuewei vanished like a puff of smoke, leaving Qi Bailu sitting in his chair, slightly dazed. Suddenly, it was just the two of them again. Ruan Qiuji sat there with effortless composure, pouring himself tea from Lin Yuewei’s small teapot as if he were the master of the house.
"What Blu-ray?" Qi Bailu asked.
"A collector's edition Blu-ray of *Dewy Night Run*. It’s being released on international sites, but it’s hard to get domestically. She saved a copy for you."
Qi Bailu’s eyes lit up. He had a bit of a collector’s streak and was eager to see it. "Where is it?"
Ruan Qiuji stood up and led him into the inner room. Once the disc was in his hands, Qi Bailu studied the packaging. Seeing that it included exclusive, unreleased behind-the-scenes footage and interviews, he remarked with genuine curiosity, "I didn't even know they filmed these things."
"Do you want to watch it now?"
It seemed as good a plan as any, even though Qi Bailu had watched the film just last month in Paris. Since he was going to watch it, he couldn't very well leave Ruan Qiuji standing there. He led the way to the screening room, a place he knew well. The floor was covered in a plush, soft carpet similar to a commercial cinema, muffling their footsteps. As Qi Bailu crouched before the projector to fiddle with the packaging, Ruan Qiuji inspected the sound system and asked, "Do you want some popcorn?"
Qi Bailu looked back, making sure he hadn't misheard. Ruan Qiuji wanted popcorn?
If he wanted popcorn, there was a cinema nearby, not too far away. Did he really want to go through the trouble of going out to buy some? Half-squatting on the floor, Qi Bailu said, "Walk eight hundred meters east, turn left at the intersection, it's on the fourth floor of the mall. There’s an octopus takoyaki stand opposite the theater; the ones with the sweet salad sauce are the best. You could get one order... or two..."
Ruan Qiuji glanced at the two fingers Qi Bailu held up. "We can make the popcorn ourselves. We'll save the takoyaki for another day."
Qi Bailu realized he was being ignorant; he hadn't known you could make popcorn at home.
"Is the kitchen over there?" Ruan Qiuji asked, already heading toward the door and gesturing in a certain direction. Qi Bailu quickly set the disc down and led him over. Though Lin Yuewei’s studio wasn't large, it was well-equipped, featuring a small kitchen and dining area. Qi Bailu began rummaging through the cabinets. "Can we just use regular corn?"
"No, it has to be a specific kind."
Ruan Qiuji followed behind him, casually checking the upper cabinets. Qi Bailu felt as though they were two thieves who had broken into Lin Yuewei’s home. "You should tell her first, or at least ask her..."
Before he could finish, Ruan Qiuji leaned down and held his phone screen in front of Qi Bailu’s face. It showed a chat log with Lin Yuewei from three minutes ago. She had said she didn't remember where the corn was and told them to look for it themselves, adding that the butter was in the second cabinet from the bottom.
The man was incredibly thorough and did everything without a word of warning. As luck would have it, Qi Bailu was already crouching in front of that very cabinet. He pulled out the butter and handed it to Ruan, giving him a look that said, *Fine, you're impressive.* He went back to searching through the food packaging and soon found the corn Ruan had described.
In Qi Bailu’s imagination, making popcorn was a loud, explosive affair. He was half-afraid they would blow the roof off the studio. However, Ruan Qiuji seemed entirely confident and well-acquainted with the kitchen. As the butter began to melt over a low flame in the skillet, Ruan reached up to turn on the exhaust fan, and a low hum instantly filled the room. Watching him expertly stir the corn kernels without needing any help, Qi Bailu asked, surprised, "You know how to cook?"
"A little."
Qi Bailu suddenly remembered that Ruan had studied abroad; he likely picked it up then.
The oil began to sizzle in the pan, a sound that was slightly intimidating. Qi Bailu was terrified that the butter-slicked corn would suddenly fly out like shrapnel. He pointed to an apron hanging on the wall. "Do you want to...?"
Ruan Qiuji followed his gaze. His eyes lingered on the apron, which was covered in a pattern of small strawberries. For a rare moment, he was silent, making no move to put it on. Qi Bailu took the apron down and stepped forward to loop it over Ruan's neck. Ruan instinctively tilted his head back, caught between wanting to dodge and staying still, but Qi Bailu had already "lassoed" him into it. "It's safer and more hygienic this way," Qi Bailu insisted.
It was also quite ridiculous. Ruan Qiuji looked down at the rows of pale pink and green strawberries—it was far too dainty and girlish for a man of his stature. Before Ruan could say anything, Qi Bailu started laughing. Though he tried to hide it by stepping behind Ruan to tie the strings, a few muffled chuckles escaped. Ruan turned his head just as Qi Bailu’s laughing eyes met his. Qi Bailu tightened the bow at the small of Ruan's back. Seeing the man look back, he immediately pressed his lips together to suppress his mirth. "There, all done."
Since he wasn't there on formal business, Ruan Qiuji wasn't wearing a suit. He had taken off his overcoat in the screening room, leaving him in a simple white turtleneck sweater. Qi Bailu rarely saw him dressed so casually, and he found himself staring at Ruan's soft, woolen shoulders in a momentary daze. Ruan Qiuji placed a glass lid over the skillet. He lowered his chin, looking into Qi Bailu’s eyes. "What are you thinking about?"
In truth, he was thinking that if Ruan Qiuji were to ever marry, this might be what it looked like. His thoughts inevitably drifted back to Zheng Kunyu. When they had first met, Zheng Kunyu was actually preparing for a wedding; the date had already been set. Later, the engagement was called off due to "personality clashes." Zheng Kunyu had never mentioned it to him; Qi Bailu had read about it in the news, as the woman was a famous host and the scandal had caused quite a stir for a while.
"I was thinking..." Qi Bailu leaned back against the low counter, his hands braced behind him, facing Ruan Qiuji directly. It felt like the first time he had looked at Ruan’s face so closely and so earnestly. He noticed that the outer corners of Ruan's eyes drooped slightly, which meant that no matter how he smiled, he always looked strangely kind and approachable. Even when he wasn't smiling, he didn't look fierce. Perhaps that was why Qi Bailu found it so easy to let his guard down around him.
Zheng Kunyu was entirely different. Zheng possessed an overwhelming aura of pressure; his somber temperament often made people overlook his physical features. In Zheng Kunyu’s eyes, Qi Bailu saw the exhaustion of a man who had seen too much of the world’s cynicism. In Ruan Qiuji’s eyes, however, Qi Bailu couldn't quite tell. He seemed to care about everything, yet nothing at all. Qi Bailu couldn't discern what he truly wanted. Even when Ruan had said "I like you," Qi Bailu felt it was more like an invitation to play a game.
"Why do you... why do you like me?"
Qi Bailu’s voice was muffled and small, swallowed by the roar of the exhaust fan and the sound of the corn kernels beginning to pop and tumble. Ruan Qiuji didn't catch it. He leaned down. "What?"
Ruan had a vague sense that Qi Bailu had asked something important. He gazed into the boy's eyes, hoping he would repeat it. Qi Bailu turned his face toward the skillet. "Nothing."
Through the transparent glass lid, the expanding corn became white and plump, bouncing around the pan and hitting the lid with a rhythmic *pop-pop-pop* like tiny bullets. The air was thick with the scent of melted butter. Ruan Qiuji waited a few seconds, and seeing that Qi Bailu truly had nothing more to say, he pressed one hand on the lid and focused on shaking the pan. Qi Bailu watched as the popcorn piled up like a rapidly growing snowdrift. The air was so sweet and fragrant that it felt as if even Ruan Qiuji in his white sweater had turned into a giant piece of popcorn. Qi Bailu felt a sudden craving. He pushed his heavy thoughts aside and, following Ruan’s instructions, eagerly grabbed the sugar jar to wait for the batch to be finished.
The popcorn filled a small glass bowl to the brim, so much so that Qi Bailu had to hold it with both hands. Ruan Qiuji asked what he wanted to drink—wine, juice, or cola. Lin Yuewei’s fridge was stocked with everything, even milk tea. Since Qi Bailu was about to start filming, maintaining his physique was crucial, and he didn't dare touch alcohol. He asked for pomegranate juice, and Ruan poured two glasses.
The chairs in the home theater were far more comfortable than those in a public cinema. Qi Bailu placed the popcorn on the armrest between them as Ruan Qiuji dimmed the lights and walked over.
Ruan had accidentally added too much sugar, making the popcorn incredibly sweet, but it was delicious. Because it was so good, Qi Bailu, fearing for his waistline, forced himself to stop after just two kernels. As they waited for the figures to appear on the projection screen, Ruan Qiuji looked over in the darkness. "Is it not good?"
He sounded almost slighted. Not wanting to dampen his spirits, Qi Bailu grabbed another kernel and popped it into his mouth. "No, it’s better than the stuff they sell at the theater."
Ruan Qiuji watched him, then took a piece for himself. As the film's images began to flicker onto the white screen, the opening music flowed softly through the room. Once an action becomes a habit, it’s easy to repeat it unconsciously. As Qi Bailu became absorbed in the film, he found himself eating several more kernels, his hand moving back and forth without stopping.
Some critics had once said that Lin Yuewei’s work was too shocking, criticizing her plots for being detached from reality and her tendency toward the voyeuristic and erotic. Given that the domestic creative atmosphere was becoming increasingly conservative and lacked a film rating system, most people believed her style was a dead end. No matter how many awards she won, her films couldn't get a wide theatrical release or official recognition, and one wrong move could lead to a ban.
Yet, a small group of people insisted that Lin Yuewei was a true talent. Female directors were rare in the industry, and Lin Yuewei provided a much-needed infusion of fresh blood into a stagnant pool.
The film followed a linear narrative, beginning with a slow, sweeping long shot. A middle-school girl walked home after school, passing through street after street, through the heavy traffic of the city, and through crowded alleys. A slightly shaky handheld camera followed her from behind, focusing on the nape of her neck. The camera was angled slightly downward, as if someone taller were stalking her, peeping at her every move.
The lens captured her soft neck, her frizzy hair tied in a ponytail, and her thin, pierced ears. Occasionally, it recorded her profile and her expressions as she looked left and right while waiting for traffic lights. Her face was never shown in full.
This long shot finally ended when her face appeared clearly for the first time. She stepped into an elevator and looked at her reflection in the mirror. There was nothing behind her, but she suddenly turned and stared directly into the camera, breaking the "voyeurism." The camera swayed and retreated, exiting the elevator before cutting to a fixed shot from another angle. She stared out of the elevator, her expressionless face slowly disappearing behind the closing doors.
Then, beneath mint-green curtains fluttering in the breeze, Qi Bailu made his first appearance. He was wearing a school uniform, sitting on a bed and working on test papers. His arm was in a cast, preventing him from attending class, so the female lead came to his house every afternoon to tutor her young boyfriend.
Up to this point, it looked like a typical youth romance. But as the story progressed, the plot took a dark, disturbing turn. When the male lead went to the girl's house to study, he was molested first by her brother and then by her father. Eventually, the two of them lured him into their bed. That pivotal "threesome" scene had taken a full week to film. It was only through various camera angles and props that Qi Bailu had managed to overcome his psychological barriers. The first time Qi Bailu had seen the finished product, his heart had raced with embarrassment at the sheer scale of the intimacy. Seeing it again now felt no different.
The sex scene lasted over ten minutes and occurred right in the middle of the film. Qi Bailu felt a surge of regret as he grabbed a handful of popcorn. Although that specific scene hadn't started yet, he didn't dare look at Ruan Qiuji’s face. He had completely forgotten about this part of the movie, otherwise, he never would have agreed to watch it with Ruan... Ruan had seen the film before; he surely knew exactly what was coming. As the Qi Bailu on screen was pulled onto a man's lap and pressed down, Qi Bailu saw Ruan Qiuji suddenly pick up his glass of pomegranate juice out of the corner of his eye, his gaze seemingly drifting toward him.
