They rushed up the stone steps and pushed through the glass doors of the apartment building, the sounds of thunder and rain pouring in after them. In the chaos, Qi Bailu couldn't quite remember how it had happened, but Ruan Qiuji had ended up draping his suit jacket over Qi Bailu’s head and ushering him inside, as if they were taking cover from a hail of bullets.
Wrapped in the nearly soaked blazer, Qi Bailu caught his reflection in the glass door; he looked for all the world like an Iranian woman in a black hijab. He yanked the jacket off his head just as Ruan Qiuji was raking his dripping hair back from his forehead. Qi Bailu’s gaze drifted over and lingered on the man’s face for a long moment.
He had always known Ruan Qiuji was handsome, but today’s handsomeness felt different. With his features dampened by the rain, his brow and eyes were sharply defined, carrying a trace of unexpected gloom.
They looked like two water ghouls who had just surfaced from a lake, leaving bright, watery trails across the marble floor. Qi Bailu wasn't entirely drenched, but Ruan Qiuji’s shirt was soaked through, clinging to his skin. Qi Bailu’s eyes fell on the lines of the muscles in Ruan’s arms; thinking of something, he pointedly looked away, unaware that Ruan Qiuji had caught the shift in his expression.
Qi Bailu was remembering that night at Ruan Qiuji’s house. Although nothing had ultimately happened, the association was almost involuntary—physical memory often precedes conscious thought.
"I'll go get you an umbrella," Qi Bailu said.
Faced with Qi Bailu’s coldness, Ruan Qiuji said nothing. He leaned back against the tiled wall and pulled out a crumpled cigarette pack, his eyes on Qi Bailu as he bit down on a cigarette. As Qi Bailu walked toward the elevator, he heard the sound of Ruan Qiuji trying to light up behind him. Whether the pack was damp or the lighter was broken, it took three or four clicks without a flame appearing. Ruan Qiuji let out a muffled cough.
Qi Bailu turned his head. The suit jacket draped over his shoulders swayed, its empty sleeves dripping water. He saw Ruan Qiuji cupping a tiny, weak flame, bringing it close to the tip of the cigarette, but it failed to catch again.
Ruan Qiuji took the cigarette out of his mouth, his shoulders slumping as he looked up. Seeing Qi Bailu watching him, he asked, "Could you bring me a towel?"
Qi Bailu hesitated for a moment before finally tilting his chin, signaling for Ruan to follow. Ruan Qiuji didn't hesitate; he tucked the cigarette pack away and followed. He stepped into the elevator last, standing near the door controls. As Qi Bailu pressed the button, Ruan Qiuji watched the numbers climb and remarked, "You’re renting on the sixth floor?"
"Mm." It was obvious.
Qi Bailu felt there was something slightly off about the question, but the thought flashed by and was forgotten before he could catch it. It wasn't until he opened the door and led Ruan Qiuji inside that it occurred to him: how was Ruan Qiuji so certain he was renting, rather than owning or just staying there?
Qi Bailu lived alone, so the apartment was quite small. As soon as the door opened, a snowy white ball of fur bounced over and latched onto his foot. Ruan Qiuji looked down; it was Lin Yuewei’s cat. He remembered its name was Jeanne. Lin Yuewei was likely out scouting locations and had left the cat in Qi Bailu’s temporary care.
Jeanne clung firmly to Qi Bailu’s calf, staring up at Ruan Qiuji. When Ruan smiled at her, Jeanne only hugged Qi Bailu tighter, her beautiful round eyes wide as if she couldn't understand where this stranger had come from.
"She probably doesn't remember me," Ruan Qiuji said.
Qi Bailu bent down and tossed him a pair of slippers covered in cat hair. "Jeanne has a bad memory. You can take a shower before you go. The bathroom is over there. There’s a washing machine; you can dry your clothes."
Ruan Qiuji looked at him, as if trying to discern if his memory was just as bad.
After Qi Bailu finished pouring the cat food, he saw Ruan still standing there. "The suit needs dry cleaning. I’ll pack it up for you."
Qi Bailu actually found a plastic shopping bag—the kind with a supermarket logo—and stuffed the wet blazer inside for Ruan Qiuji to take with him later.
"Aren't you going first?"
"You have to leave soon. You go first."
With that, Qi Bailu slipped into the bedroom. The door was left ajar, but Ruan Qiuji couldn't see the whole room. Left in the small living room, the man and the cat stared at each other. Ruan Qiuji knelt, catching Jeanne by the scruff to scratch her chin. Jeanne sniffed his hand; she didn't react much, but she clearly enjoyed the attention. After a moment, Ruan Qiuji cupped her small round face, looking into her eyes. "Is it your memory that’s bad, or his?"
Jeanne let out a meow and rubbed against his fingers, annoyed that he had stopped moving. Ruan Qiuji placed his palm over the top of her head, flattening her ears. "Seems like both," he murmured.
When Qi Bailu emerged with a bath towel and a robe, this was the scene he found: Ruan Qiuji was standing before a shelf of DVDs, cradling the little ancestor in his arms. Although Jeanne had never been shy, the way she kicked her legs in delight while Ruan groomed her was a bit "traitorous." She hadn't changed a bit since the last time.
Qi Bailu handed the items to Ruan Qiuji and took Jeanne back. As he turned away, he held Jeanne with both hands and gave her a stern look, likely scolding her for "siding with the enemy" so quickly.
Once the cat was gone, Qi Bailu left his guest to his own devices. Ruan Qiuji found the bathroom Qi Bailu had pointed out. He was halfway through unbuttoning his shirt when Qi Bailu suddenly knocked. Just as Ruan reached for the handle to open it, Qi Bailu spoke through the frosted glass: "You can use the toiletries."
He was referring to the body wash and shampoo. Ruan Qiuji called out a thank you, and the silhouette on the glass quickly moved away. In truth, even if Qi Bailu hadn't said anything, Ruan had already been inspecting the items on the vanity. The skincare products were mostly from a single brand—likely gifts from a sponsor—piled up like a small mountain, more than one person could ever use. However, that brand had already changed its spokesperson. There was also a small box of hair ties, presumably for his long hair.
The body wash was verbena-scented. Was it a coincidence? It was the only scent Ruan used himself.
Ruan Qiuji withdrew his gaze, and as he looked up, he saw a sticky note on the mirror. The pink paper was slightly curled from the steam; it looked like it had been there for a couple of days. He reached out to flatten it and saw a few words scribbled in a messy hand: *June 8th, Xue.*
It was just those few words, but Ruan Qiuji easily recognized Qi Bailu’s handwriting from the annotated scripts he had seen before.
Ruan Qiuji stared at it for a moment before slowly letting go. June 8th was only two days away. So, who was this "Xue"?
One toothbrush, one mouthwash cup. He had noticed when he walked in that there were no signs of anyone else living here. As far as he knew, Qi Bailu wasn't seeing anyone.
In the mirror, Ruan Qiuji saw a T-shirt draped over the edge of the bathtub. Driven by some instinct, he turned and picked it up. Spreading it out, he saw it was a worn commemorative shirt from a film festival earlier that year. It had a stain on it and was a size Large—clearly not Qi Bailu’s size, but belonging to a well-built adult male. Ruan Qiuji’s expression didn't change, but a subtle shift occurred in his eyes. He tossed the shirt back where it had been. Looking at the room now, he didn't just think of Qi Bailu being here; he thought of an unknown shadow that had once stood exactly where he was standing.
Perhaps that shadow had once reached past Qi Bailu’s legs, right here, dragging him into a marsh, while that mirror silently watched it all. Ruan Qiuji turned on the shower. Thinking further immediately crossed his line of tolerance; his expression darkened amidst the rising white mist.
When Ruan Qiuji came out, Qi Bailu was at his computer, doing a shot-by-shot film analysis. Hearing the movement, Jeanne immediately perked up her ears and squirmed to get down. Qi Bailu grabbed the little traitor’s paws and continued clicking his mouse without looking up. Ruan Qiuji walked through the living room in the robe. A moment later, the washing machine by the balcony beeped twice, and the sound of slippers approached the sofa.
Qi Bailu ignored Ruan Qiuji’s presence, appearing entirely focused on his computer, but he was actually diverting a portion of his attention to Ruan’s movements. Aside from looking at him, Ruan Qiuji didn't do anything else, but "looking" was a powerful action in itself. The weight of a gaze can sometimes be more startling than physical contact.
Even after all this time, Qi Bailu still couldn't remain immune to his presence. He looked up, intending to speak, but Ruan Qiuji said calmly, "You seem to have changed a lot."
The comment wasn't born of sentimental reflection on how things used to be; he seemed to be simply stating a fact about the changes in Qi Bailu.
Two years ago, the mental hospital incident had been so high-profile that every move Qi Bailu made was magnified and scrutinized. There were even rumors that the luxury villa in Beijing, which was ultimately ruled an "accidental fire," was Qi Bailu’s residence and that he had burned it down during a breakdown. Others said he had run out naked, shocking the firefighters and his manager, which led to their fallout. No agency dared to sign him, and staff members leaked stories about a severe drug dependency.
There were many such rumors. Qi Bailu had later joined a production but was replaced after being late and requiring multiple retakes—that part was true. Since then, he hadn't joined another set; he failed every audition, and no one would hire him except Lin Yuewei. In reality, those in the industry knew perfectly well that Qi Bailu couldn't get work not because of the gossip, but because his backing had collapsed.
Qi Bailu’s hand on the mouse stopped. Ruan Qiuji felt the other man’s forced composure shift into a defensive posture, as if Ruan’s next words would be a shark lunging to bite him. Qi Bailu asked, "Changed for the worse in your eyes?"
After all, he was publicly certified as a fallen star.
Ruan Qiuji said, "You have always been good."
There wasn't a hint of sweet-talking in his tone today, but Qi Bailu only met him with a lukewarm silence.
Ruan Qiuji suddenly said, "You blame me for what happened with Zheng Kunyu."
"I don't," Qi Bailu answered quickly and precisely, like an automated response given before he had even processed the words.
"You do."
Sensing the tension in the air, Jeanne let out a few wary meows and jumped off Qi Bailu’s lap. This time she wasn't pulled back, nor did she go to Ruan Qiuji; she circled once before heading straight for her soft cushion to play dead.
Qi Bailu glanced at him. He had almost asked who Zheng Kunyu was. For the past two years, no one had mentioned that name to him, allowing him to pretend he had forgotten. Only Ruan Qiuji would dare to bring it up again.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
This act of playing dumb, of pretending nothing had happened, was what truly stung.
"You're angry," Ruan Qiuji said, cutting straight to the point.
Qi Bailu suppressed an outburst, pressing a hand against his trembling jaw. He lowered his eyes, pretending to look at the computer screen. Ruan Qiuji added, "Perhaps two years hasn't been enough time for you to figure things out."
Ruan’s voice was calm, but there was a trace of mockery in it. Qi Bailu shoved the mouse aside and looked up to meet his gaze. He realized he still didn't understand Ruan Qiuji. He thought he had swum thousands of miles away, long out of sight, only for Ruan Qiuji to tug on the long line and remind him he was still on the hook.
After staring at each other for a while, Qi Bailu closed his laptop, intending to leave. Before he could stand, Ruan Qiuji donned his "sheep’s clothing" again, his tone shifting. "I know that fire wasn't an accident. Don't look at me like that; I know you better than you think. Since you had the courage to start over, why didn't you have the courage to say goodbye to me?"
"I forgot."
"You didn't forget to give me the music box."
Qi Bailu knew letting him in was a bad idea. He couldn't win an argument against him anyway.
Seeing that Qi Bailu seemed genuinely upset, Ruan Qiuji stopped there and didn't push further. Because he had just showered and dried his hair, it wasn't slicked back; as he held his glass of water, he looked almost "pure and harmless." Qi Bailu remembered when he first met him, thinking he was merely a charming, considerate man. Now he knew Ruan was a velvet blade, most skilled at piercing the heart.
After a moment of silence, Qi Bailu said, "Your clothes."
Ruan Qiuji had also heard the beep of the washing machine. Qi Bailu walked over, opened the lid, and confirmed the clothes were indeed dry. He stood there in a clear "please leave" stance, waiting for Ruan to dress and go. Ruan Qiuji took out the shirt and saw it was quite wrinkled. Qi Bailu clearly had no intention of offering an iron, so Ruan put it on as it was.
When Ruan Qiuji emerged in the wrinkled shirt, he did indeed look a bit less like the dignified "CEO Ruan." His buttons weren't even done up properly. Qi Bailu signaled with his eyes for him to fasten them. Ruan Qiuji said, "A button fell off."
Qi Bailu was skeptical. He grabbed Ruan’s collar to look; indeed, a button was missing just below the collarbone. He thought back to when they met today; the button had been there. A missing button was a small problem, but the quality of the shirt was surprisingly poor.
"Did you look in the bathroom?"
"I did."
"Could it have fallen into the washing machine?"
Qi Bailu checked the machine as he spoke, but found nothing. They looked at each other. "Did it fall off at home or outside...?" Qi Bailu wondered.
Ruan Qiuji thought for a moment, shook his head, and looked at the floor around them.
For a split second, Qi Bailu was suspicious, but then he figured Ruan Qiuji wouldn't stoop to playing tricks over something so trivial.
The button had indeed fallen off by accident; even Ruan Qiuji hadn't expected it. Seeing how seriously Qi Bailu was searching, he said, "Don't bother. It's not anything valuable. If it's gone, it's gone."
Qi Bailu felt the issue wasn't just about a missing button. A button sleeping in his house felt like he owed the button's owner something.
And so, Qi Bailu began a floor-by-floor search of the living room. The apartment was small; logically, the two of them should have found it quickly. But even after digging through the sofa cushions, the missing button was nowhere to be found. Ruan Qiuji did, however, pull a small notebook from the depths of the sofa. Seeing Qi Bailu’s back turned to him, he flipped it open. Inside were some of Qi Bailu’s casual notes—observations like a specific performance at 12 minutes and 23 seconds of a film being interesting, or his dissatisfaction with a director, followed by his own sketched storyboards. There were also some very short essays.
Ruan Qiuji flipped through them idly until he suddenly saw a page that read: *Dreamed of him. Don't remember the rest, only that I found a bug in the music box he gave me. We had a fight. He kissed me. It was strange; later it didn't seem like him, but someone else.*
When his eyes hit the words "the music box he gave me," Ruan Qiuji’s gaze sharpened. Qi Bailu’s handwriting was messy and the punctuation was haphazard; the whole passage lacked context or clear emotion. But this "he" clearly referred to Ruan Qiuji. It couldn't be anyone else.
***
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Countless Blossoms: The Actor's Gamble | Chapter 73 | The Missing Button | Novela.app | Novela.app
