Zhang Jin’an looked at the messages flooding his screen, let out a soft chuckle, and switched off his phone, gripping it in his hand.
He was currently standing at the entrance of the hotel’s underground parking lot, waiting for Li Qiang to pull the car around. It was sunset; the sky was stained with hues of orange-gold and deep crimson. A plane, coming from parts unknown, streaked across the sky, flying toward the distant setting sun.
To ensure everyone could make it to dinner on time today, the crew had moved as if they were on fast-forward. They managed to nail several shots in just a few takes, wrapping up at four o'clock for a six o'clock meal. Zhang Jin’an had originally intended to treat everyone, but Director Tang Shang had gone behind his back and booked a small restaurant days ago. Since he couldn't very well refuse, the celebration was naturally set for that venue.
Because the crew was large, most people were carpooling, while he, of course, took his own car.
After Zhang Jin’an finished two sets of eye exercises, Li Qiang’s car pulled up. The rear wheels bumped over the speed bump, and Zhang Jin’an opened the door and climbed in.
After driving for a while, Li Qiang glanced in the rearview mirror at Zhang Jin’an, who was staring at his phone. "Hey, Jin’an, it seems like you spend your birthday on a film set every year."
Zhang Jin’an looked up, but before he could speak, Xiao Zhou answered for him: "That’s normal. it just shows how busy he is."
"Mm," Zhang Jin’an hummed in response. He glanced out the window for a moment before returning his gaze to his phone.
Li Qiang narrowed his eyes, then whispered to Xiao Zhou, "Xiao Zhou, Xiao Zhou!"
Xiao Zhou leaned in slightly. "What is it, Brother Qiang?"
Li Qiang lowered his voice. "Don't you think Zhang Jin’an is acting a bit off today?"
"Off?" Xiao Zhou turned back to size up Zhang Jin’an. "He looks fine. No cold, no fever, no sneezing."
Li Qiang felt a surge of frustration at his denseness. "Not a cold or a fever. I’m talking about his mental state, not his physical state."
"Oh, oh, mental state... now that you mention it, it does seem that way," Xiao Zhou said, reflecting. "Usually at times like this, he’s quite happy and talks a lot. Today, he’s quieter than usual."
Li Qiang nodded slightly. "Exactly. And don't you think he's checking his phone an unusual number of times today?" He had seen Zhang Jin’an staring at his phone more than once today, brow slightly furrowed as if he were waiting for a specific message.
"Checking his phone?" Xiao Zhou didn't think much of it. "I think it’s fine. It’s his birthday; there must be way more people @-ing him on Weibo than usual. It’s normal to check it more often."
Li Qiang thought about it and realized that made sense. "I suppose you're right."
"Heh," Xiao Zhou smiled. "I think you’re just overthinking it, Brother Qiang. I think the Big Boss is doing just fine."
"Maybe," Li Qiang said, stealing another glance at the rearview mirror.
*Was he really overthinking it?*
*Or had he forgotten?*
Zhang Jin’an couldn't help but wonder as he looked at his Weibo homepage, which he had refreshed dozens of times without a single new message appearing.
*One last time. If there’s no new post this time, I’m stopping.*
Zhang Jin’an fixed his eyes on the screen, pressed his index finger down, and slowly dragged it. The loading icon in the top right corner appeared for a second and then vanished.
Refresh successful.
Zhang Jin’an looked at the post count with bated breath.
It was still 92.
"..." Zhang Jin’an tried to comfort himself. "Maybe he’s still filming the variety show. It’s normal not to be allowed to use a phone during filming."
But when he opened Jiu Chang’s Weibo, he found that Jiu Chang had posted a new update twenty minutes ago—"Filming finished for today, wrapping up—"
"..." Zhang Jin’an silently exited Jiu Chang’s Weibo, cursing his own meddling hands.
He had said the last refresh would be the last. He stopped looking at that homepage and clicked on the link to Zhang Shuyu’s Weibo, which she had been pestering him to check in their group chat.
Zhang Shuyu’s latest post already had twenty thousand reposts.
Zhang Jin’an clicked the video link.
The video was six minutes long. The first three minutes were a montage of his photos and short clips, set to an instrumental track featuring a duet of drums and guitar with a light touch of piano that made one want to tap their feet. Every frame in the video was perfectly synced to the beat; the visuals were smooth, and the transitions were seamless. It was clear the editor was highly skilled.
Aside from the "Happy Birthday" wishes, the bullet comments were filled with praise for the editing.
The remaining three minutes caught Zhang Jin’an by surprise. The music continued, but the visuals shifted from fan-captured footage to a plain white wall. A few seconds later, a girl with long golden hair tied in a ponytail, wearing a white patterned dress, hopped from the left into the center of the frame.
As soon as Zhang Shuyu appeared, the bullet comments flooded with "The sister is so pretty."
"Hello everyone, I won't introduce myself. Today's protagonist isn't me, it's my dear brother," Zhang Shuyu said confidently to the camera, flashing a sunny smile. "I'm sure you'll see this video, Brother. And even if you don't, I'm sure these ladies here will make sure you do. Even though you didn't tell me you were doing a variety show, and you didn't tell me you were filming right near my house, I haven't taken it to heart. I still made this video for you. It's my first time making one for you—are you enjoying it?"
Zhang Shuyu cleared her throat and continued, "I hope you stay happy every single day, Brother. And, uh... oh, I hope you continue to stay true to your original intentions in this industry and keep forging ahead! Finally, happy birthday."
Zhang Jin’an couldn't help but let a small smile spread across his face.
"Even though I stumbled a bit, at least I finished..." Zhang Shuyu patted her chest, visibly relieved.
At that moment, a cool, detached female voice came from off-camera: "Everything you said was recorded."
Zhang Jin’an recognized it instantly as Zhang Qingyue’s voice.
"Huh? It’s fine, I’ll edit it out later," Zhang Shuyu said, walking off-screen. "Sister, it’s your turn."
The next second, a girl with short hair appeared, wearing a black jacket with her hands in her pockets, looking at the camera.
"Happy birthday, Brother. Don't put too much pressure on yourself. Being at ease and happy is what matters most; after all, health is the most important thing," Zhang Qingyue said. Unlike Zhang Shuyu, she spoke fluently without a single stumble. "Once this birthday passes, you’ll be thirty. But we won't pressure you to get married. We won't interfere in your life; we only hope you are healthy and happy. Happy birthday."
"Even though you aren't here, we still bought you a birthday present," Zhang Shuyu said, stepping back into the frame holding several posters. On the posters was a blueprint for a garage kit, and Zhang Jin’an’s eyes immediately lit up.
"I specifically asked a colleague of my sister's—who wishes to remain anonymous—to buy this. We’ve already assembled it and put it in your room," Zhang Shuyu said. "There’s nothing else left to say. That’s it!"
"Mm, that’s it," Zhang Qingyue added.
"Happy birthday! Bye-bye!" Zhang Shuyu covered the lens with her hand, and the screen went black.
In the final thirty seconds, the song played again as a long list of names scrolled across the screen.
Zhang Jin’an watched until the very last second before closing the video and reposting the Weibo.
After posting, he thanked his friends in the industry who had commented "Happy Birthday." People like Gu Yirou, Su Zhiyang, and Qian Shan from the "Second Spinning Machine" group had already wished him well in the chat and then did so again on Weibo. A few others sent private messages. However, only Jiang Mengxin not only messaged him on WeChat but also sent him a red envelope of 6.66 yuan, wishing him a "6666" year.
Regardless, he replied with his thanks to everyone who had sent their blessings.
By the time Zhang Jin’an finished his replies, the car had arrived at the restaurant.
Every app has a mechanism where new messages are pushed to the top, while old messages are slowly buried until they reach the very bottom or sometimes disappear entirely due to the sheer volume of new ones.
Zhang Jin’an watched as that specific chat window was slowly pushed down until it was at the very bottom.
He stared at it for a few seconds, then pinned it to the top. Then, he got out of the car.
The dinner was lively. The dishes served were all Hangzhou specialties, but because Hangzhou cuisine tends to be light, and some people loved spice, Tang Shang ordered a serving of Hot and Sour Rice Noodles loaded with chili. The noodles didn't last two minutes on the table before being finished off by several spice-loving screenwriters.
The assistant director had brought his own bottle of baijiu and poured half a cup for Zhang Jin’an. Zhang Jin’an sipped it slowly, taking over an hour to finish it before switching to a glass of coconut milk.
Everyone joked and played around; their relationships seemed to grow closer through this gathering. Finally, the cake was brought out, and everyone began grabbing digital red envelopes on WeChat while eating.
Yuan Yuan had the slowest reaction time. Out of a dozen red envelopes, she only managed to snag two or three. Whenever she missed one, she would yell, "The Wi-Fi here is terrible!" But Ge Xianxu, sitting right next to her, managed to get one every single time. This was a blatant slap in the face to her excuse, and everyone burst into laughter.
When it was Director Tang’s turn to send a red envelope, everyone clutched their phones, waiting with bated breath.
Yuan Yuan looked at her phone and sighed. "Sigh—it’s a pity Siyang couldn't come. Otherwise, the whole gang would be here."
Director Tang laughed and called out to her across three people, "You’re still mourning? If he were here, you wouldn't have caught a single red envelope."
The assistant director chimed in from the side, "Exactly. Siyang isn't a fast typer, but his hands are lightning-fast when it comes to sending and grabbing red envelopes. It’s a good thing he’s not online and isn't checking the group. If he were online, you wouldn't have gotten a single one today."
"Heh! That’s true," Yuan Yuan said. "It seems they’re eating over there too, though the atmosphere is a bit more tense than ours. I just sent him a photo of the cake, and he just replied saying he’s eating and we’ll talk later."
Everyone laughed about how pitiful Jiang Siyang was, and no one noticed Zhang Jin’an’s hand pause.
Ge Xianxu said with a smile, "It’s probably because of the guests this time. Looks like there’s a senior present, so they can't use their phones at the table."
Yuan Yuan nodded. "I guess so too... Hey! Director Tang, why did you send it so suddenly! I didn't get it!!"
Tang Shang had sent a red envelope without warning, catching everyone off guard. Those who missed out could only watch helplessly as the money flowed into others' pockets.
Tang Shang was delighted. "Hahahaha—"
"Director Tang is too mean! Send another one, send another one!" everyone clamored.
Zhang Jin’an hadn't caught it either, but he didn't care. He nudged Yuan Yuan next to him and asked quietly, "Jiang Siyang was online just now?"
Yuan Yuan answered honestly, "Yeah, he was."
Zhang Jin’an: "...Okay, never mind."
Confused, Yuan Yuan asked, "What’s wrong? Do you need him for something?"
Zhang Jin’an immediately denied it. "No, just asking."
Yuan Yuan believed him and didn't ask further, turning back to chat with Ge Xianxu.
Zhang Jin’an sat in his seat, looking at his black phone screen, and downed the rest of his coconut milk in one gulp.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 二纺机 | Second Spinning Machine | The name of a group chat, likely referring to a specific project or inside joke. |
| 星五 | Star Friday | Short for a variety show title. |
| 手办 | Garage kit / Figure | A collectible model or figurine. |
| 置顶 | Pin to top | To fix a chat conversation at the top of a messaging app. |
| 杭帮菜 | Hangzhou cuisine | A style of Chinese cuisine originating from Hangzhou. |
| 酸辣粉 | Hot and Sour Rice Noodles | A popular spicy noodle dish. |
| 梦中情豆 | Dream Idol | A play on "dream lover" (梦中情人), referring to a favorite celebrity. |
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Unable to be Arrogant [Entertainment Circle] | Chapter 73 | Waiting for a Message | Novela.app | Novela.app
