Jiang Siyang hesitated for a long while, still unable to provide an answer.
It was a truly devious question; he felt he would feel guilty regardless of whom he chose.
Fortunately, Zhang Jin’an didn’t take the matter to heart. He moved on to other topics and didn't press for an answer in the end.
“Time to start filming,” Zhang Jin’an said, standing up. He bent over to pick up his stool and returned it to its original place. “Let’s go.”
Jiang Siyang and Xiao Zhou stood up as well.
After that, Zhang Jin’an headed onto the set while Xiao Zhou waited off to the side. Since Jiang Siyang’s scene was in the second act, he went to change his costume.
By the time Jiang Siyang was ready and returned, the first scene was already being filmed. The actors—Zhang Jin’an, Yuan Yuan, and Ge Xianxu—were positioned around the living room, some on the sofa and others in chairs by the dining table.
With his camera strap around his neck and his mirrorless camera in hand, Jiang Siyang stood a short distance away with the crew, watching the three of them perform and snapping photos from time to time.
Jiang Siyang aimed his camera at the monitor. On the screen, Ge Xianxu stood up from the sofa as if struck by a sudden thought. “Do you think—could he have left this place?” Her hair was tied in a sharp, single ponytail, and she wore a white shirt and jeans—a complete departure from her usual style. Her voice was sharp and carried a sense of pressure.
Yuan Yuan, on the other hand, had been wearing long skirts since filming began. Her eyebrows were drawn lighter, giving her an incredibly gentle appearance. Even her rebuttals were soft-spoken: “He wouldn’t. He’s not that kind of person.”
This scene took place two days after "Cui Chi" had gone missing. Everyone’s spirits were slowly sinking to rock bottom, and the atmosphere was heavy. The actors' expressions were entirely different from the previous scenes; though the dialogue was relatively simple, their faces were visibly "clouded with worry."
To complement the scene, the crew had specifically changed the color of the lighting. Even though it was bright and sunny outside, the room felt as though it were besieged by the gloaming. Twilight evoked a sense of desolation, and using light and shadow to reflect the characters' current emotions was a hallmark of Tang Shang’s style.
This was evident even back in *Plum Blossom Bones*.
Speaking of *Plum Blossom Bones*, one couldn't help but mention the scene where the second male lead dies. Every time Jiang Siyang watched it, he was struck with awe; it was truly a masterpiece.
That segment was filmed from the male lead’s first-person perspective. A torrential downpour couldn't wash away the blood covering the ground. The moment the second male lead was struck by an arrow and collapsed, the screen turned grayscale. At that moment, no sound could be heard except for the protagonist's heartbeat.
It wasn't until the female lead appeared with an umbrella and the male lead looked up that color began to return, starting from that red paper umbrella and bleeding back into the world.
Just as Jiang Siyang pressed the shutter, he heard Liu Wenping’s voice. “Taking photos?”
“Sister Liu, you’re here,” Jiang Siyang said, lowering his camera and looking toward her. “I wanted to document some moments from the set. I asked Director Tang earlier, and he said it was fine as long as I didn't make them public.”
“I remember a long time ago, Cui Chi left a letter.”
That was Zhang Jin’an’s line.
Jiang Siyang looked over at the sound. Zhang Jin’an was sitting in a chair, his head lowered as he leaned his forehead against his hand. In a low voice, he said, “I didn’t understand what he meant at the time. Thinking back on it now... was that his final letter?”
“What letter? Why didn't I know about this?” Ge Xianxu asked immediately.
“I didn't know either. When did this happen?”
“...”
From the moment Zhang Jin’an began to speak, Jiang Siyang’s gaze never left him, regardless of who was delivering their lines.
Perhaps it would be more accurate to say his gaze never left Chen Yijun.
In this moment, Zhang Jin’an *was* Chen Yijun. He had long since immersed himself in the role, even drawing Jiang Siyang, a mere bystander, into the narrative.
Zhang Jin’an’s voice was always so unique. When he spoke softly, it carried a hint of laziness, yet it commanded one's full attention.
Jiang Siyang raised his camera, focused the lens on Zhang Jin’an’s upper body, and pressed the shutter.
“How is it? No matter how many times you rehearse with him, do you still find yourself marveling at Zhang Jin’an’s acting when you’re just watching?” Liu Wenping asked.
Jiang Siyang nodded slightly, his eyes still fixed on Zhang Jin’an.
“How does it feel to act opposite him?” Liu Wenping asked, nudging Jiang Siyang with her finger.
“It’s exhilarating. Truly. He gets so into character that it’s incredibly easy for me to be pulled into the story. I haven't had many scenes with him, which is a bit of a shame,” Jiang Siyang turned to Liu Wenping and shared his feelings from the past few days with complete honesty. “But fortunately, he’s a great person. Regardless of whether it’s a scene we share, as long as I go to him with a question, he’ll rehearse with me seriously. So, in just these few days, I’ve learned a lot.”
Speaking of this, Jiang Siyang felt a surge of gratitude toward Zhang Jin’an.
Zhang Jin’an had always told him to come to him with any problems, but if one asked too many times, anyone would eventually get annoyed.
Yet Zhang Jin’an never seemed bothered. He never turned him down; in fact, whenever Jiang Siyang sought him out, Zhang Jin’an would immediately set aside whatever he was doing to help him first.
He truly had a wonderful temperament.
Liu Wenping nodded in agreement. “I told you before—Zhang Jin’an might look difficult to approach, but he actually has a very good temper. Otherwise, how could he have been this famous for so long without any scandals being dug up? Oh, right, let me tell you something.”
“What is it?” Jiang Siyang asked.
“The crew released individual behind-the-scenes clips on the official Weibo. Did you know?” Liu Wenping said.
Jiang Siyang was stunned. “What? Individual clips?”
“I figured you didn't know. If only you went online as often as Zhang Jin’an does,” Liu Wenping explained in detail. “To keep the fans from drifting away while waiting for updates, the official Weibo regularly posts behind-the-scenes footage.”
Jiang Siyang nodded. “I knew about that part.”
“*Hidden Shadows* did it a bit differently this time; they released videos of your individual filming sessions,” Liu Wenping covered her mouth with one hand, looking mysterious. “Among them, the one with the second-highest view count is yours.”
“Oh...” Jiang Siyang followed up by asking, “Then who’s first?”
Liu Wenping: “Zhang Jin’an.”
Jiang Siyang immediately beamed with joy. “Really?!”
Liu Wenping was left caught between laughter and tears by his reaction. “What is wrong with you? Why are you so happy to hear someone else is number one?”
Jiang Siyang couldn't argue, so he just chuckled.
“*Friday Morning* airs the day after tomorrow. I reckon your program is going to be a massive hit then.”
“Yes,” Jiang Siyang recalled PD Jiang’s bet. “PD Jiang said that if a single episode exceeds three million views, they’ll use this same lineup again in the future.”
Liu Wenping was quite surprised by the number. “Three million?”
“Yes. I think it should be able to surpass that.”
“Be more confident and drop the ‘should’,” Liu Wenping gave an ambiguous light chuckle. “Zhang Jin’an’s popularity is even higher than you think.”
Two days later, Jiang Siyang verified through his own experience that Liu Wenping was right.
The crew was incredibly busy that day, and they didn't finish until nearly ten at night. By the time Jiang Siyang had showered and climbed into bed to catch up on this week's episode of *Friday Morning*, he found that his Weibo notifications were pinging incessantly.
He opened the app, only for the home screen to freeze for over two minutes.
Jiang Siyang thought he had prepared himself sufficiently and wouldn't be surprised by anything anymore, but faced with this situation, he still couldn't help but be stunned.
Once the interface became responsive, he tapped the "Messages" icon.
A sea of red flooded his vision. Whether it was "@ mentions" or "comments," the red numbers following them were at least five digits long. The number of private messages was increasing by the second.
“...”
He then clicked on his personal profile.
His latest post was a set of photos from the program recording in Beijing a few days ago. Until yesterday, it only had ten thousand shares; now, it had surpassed eighty thousand.
As for his follower count, Jiang Siyang did the math—it had increased by 210,000.
“...”
Jiang Siyang stared at the page for a full minute before tapping the search bar. As he typed, he realized his hands were shaking violently.
He took a deep breath and entered the Super Topic for #Friday Morning#.
The Super Topic, which had previously been ranked outside the top hundred in the variety show category, now had a "NO. 1" written next to it.
Jiang Siyang stared blankly at his phone screen when suddenly, a call came in. The screen displayed three words: "Zhang Jin’an."
Without a moment's hesitation, Jiang Siyang answered. He pressed the phone to his ear, his body instinctively straightening.
“Are you back at the hotel?”
Zhang Jin’an’s deep voice went straight into his ear, striking a chord in his heart.
The last time he had felt this way was during their very first phone call. His current excitement was no less than it had been then.
“Yes, I’m back,” Jiang Siyang remembered that Zhang Jin’an was still at the set talking to Director Tang when he left, so he asked, “Are you back, Brother Zhang?”
“Just finished talking. I’m on my way back,” Jiang Siyang thought he heard Zhang Jin’an give a light chuckle. “Have you checked Weibo?”
Jiang Siyang nodded reflexively, only remembering after the fact that the other man wasn't in front of him.
Damn it, he was already giddy with joy.
“I checked, I checked,” Jiang Siyang replied quickly.
“Congratulations. Your follower count has broken five hundred thousand. Are you happy?”
“Of course,” Jiang Siyang rubbed his hair sheepishly. “To be honest, I’m a bit dazed. I’ve never seen such a huge commotion before.”
“Don’t worry, there will be even more in the future,” Zhang Jin’an said, his voice rising slightly with a hint of pride. “So, am I the first to congratulate you? I called you the moment I saw Weibo.”
“Yes,” Jiang Siyang nodded again involuntarily. “You’re the first.”
As he spoke, Jiang Siyang suddenly realized that whether it was encouraging him during their first meeting, looking after him on the variety show, or inviting him to the audition later on, Zhang Jin’an was always that "first."
“Don’t forget what we said at the seaside. Don’t forget about me when you become famous,” Zhang Jin’an joked.
“That’s what we said, but in reality...”
“What about reality?”
Jiang Siyang spoke the truth. “They probably only followed me because they were curious after seeing the show. Everyone prefers someone witty and insightful like you. Someone as dull as me won't be able to keep many fans. Once they realize I’m boring, they’ll probably unfollow...”
Before Jiang Siyang could finish, he was interrupted.
“Wait a second. Who said you were boring?”
Jiang Siyang blinked. “Huh?”
He heard the other man laugh.
“No, Siyang, do you have a misunderstanding of yourself? We all think you’re very interesting,” Zhang Jin’an said. “You’re always full of praise for others, so why do you get so self-deprecating when it comes to yourself? How could anyone dislike a well-rounded youth of the twenty-first century like you, who excels in morals, intelligence, physique, aesthetics, and labor?”
Jiang Siyang always felt embarrassed when receiving praise, especially from Zhang Jin’an. Others might just be comforting him, but Zhang Jin’an certainly wasn't, because he was always so sincere. Even over the phone, Jiang Siyang could imagine what Zhang Jin’an looked like as he said those words.
His eyes would surely be filled with a smile, and the corners of his mouth would be curved at a comfortable angle.
It seemed...
Zhang Jin’an was also the first person who, after spending so much time with him, didn't find his personality tedious or uninteresting.
***
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
--- | --- | ---
暗隐 | Hidden Shadows | The title of the film/drama the characters are working on.
梅花骨 | Plum Blossom Bones | A previous work mentioned in the text.
陈毅君 | Chen Yijun | The name of the character Zhang Jin’an plays in the film.
崔驰 | Cui Chi | The name of the missing character in the film's plot.
超话 | Super Topic | A Weibo feature similar to a subreddit or a dedicated fan community.
微单 | Mirrorless camera | Short for 微型单反, referring to mirrorless interchangeable-lens cameras.
站姐 | Fansite Master | Literally "Station Sister," a dedicated fan who runs a fansite and takes high-quality photos of idols/actors.
德智体美劳 | Morals, intelligence, physique, aesthetics, and labor | A standard Chinese educational slogan referring to five areas of development.
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