Assistant Bai Really Does Have a Three Year Old Child - Chapter 7

Indistinct specks of stars began to emerge in the sky above the city.

The actors sat in a circle with their scripts, running lines. When the director finally gave the order, the busy day finally came to an end.

Bai Tan sat outside clutching his tool bag, already half-asleep, his head nodding like a chicken pecking at grain.

A rustling sound echoed in his ears, and he snapped his eyes open.

Huo Yang had finished removing his makeup and changing clothes at some point; he picked up his phone from beside Bai Tan and glanced at it.

“Is it over?” Bai Tan straightened his back. “I’ll notify the driver to take you home.”

Huo Yang gave a low “mm,” his gaze fixed on his phone.

As Bai Tan lowered his head to message the driver, he suddenly heard a low voice from above:

“What perfume are you wearing?”

Confused, Bai Tan grabbed his collar and took a sniff, his tone puzzled:

“I’m not wearing any perfume.”

“Is that so?” Huo Yang didn’t seem to want to continue the topic. With an ambiguous “Is that so,” he ended the conversation.

In the long silence that followed, Bai Tan wondered if he was hallucinating, but he thought he heard a very loud “gulp” the sound of someone swallowing nervously.

He looked up, but in the lounge, there was only Huo Yang sitting to one side, continuing to read his script with lowered eyes and a cold, indifferent expression.

He must have misheard.

“Teacher Huo.”

The sudden voice in the silence confirmed to Bai Tan that he wasn’t imagining things this time.

A thin figure stood at the doorway, somewhat difficult to see clearly as they were hidden in the shadows.

When the person stepped out of the darkness, Bai Tan realized it was the minor actor from the afternoon who had been scolded mercilessly by the director for repeated NGs.

He had thought the young actor was quite pitiful at the time, so he had specifically checked the cast list and remembered his name was something like Yang Yueqian.

It is said the entertainment industry never lacks for beauties. Bai Tan observed the young man without his makeup and marveled that even an extra was breathtakingly handsome.

“Thank you for helping me out this afternoon,” Yang Yueqian bowed to Huo Yang in gratitude.

“You’re welcome. How is your health?” Huo Yang asked.

Under the dim yellow light, Yang Yueqian’s eyes lit up at the word of concern.

He pursed his lips and smiled, looking a bit bashful. “I took some fever medicine and I’m mostly better now. Thank you for your concern.”

“Good. That’s fine then.” Huo Yang looked back down at his phone. “You have scenes tomorrow as well. Keep it up.”

Yang Yueqian nodded and quietly took a small step closer. After hesitating for a long while, he said softly:

“I’m a newcomer and my acting skills are lacking. I’ve caused a lot of trouble for everyone these past few days, and I feel truly terrible about it.”

Huo Yang didn’t speak, seemingly sensing that the young actor wasn’t finished.

“So… I wanted to ask if you would be willing to run lines with me? Tomorrow… I don’t want to be a burden to everyone again.” His voice grew smaller and smaller, as if he might cry at any moment.

He quickly added:

“I know you’re very tired after filming all day. If you don’t want to, it’s okay, I’ll go back and find a friend to practice with…”

“Did you bring your script?” Huo Yang interrupted him.

Yang Yueqian’s eyes widened. Perhaps because he was just recovering from his illness, his cheeks were flushed.

Unable to suppress the rising corners of his mouth, he nodded vigorously:

“I brought it, I brought it!”

Huo Yang turned his head, but his gaze landed on the person to his side, saying to Bai Tan:

“You go back and rest first. No need to stay with me.”

Bai Tan stood up slowly and nodded.

Back at home, after washing up and keeping busy until ten o’clock, Bai Tan finally sat down for a late dinner.

Simple instant noodles with a ham sausage added.

He sat in front of his computer with a fork in his mouth, stealing bites of noodles while his hands flew across the keyboard like the wind.

After a few minutes, his fingers stopped. He was stuck.

Regarding the matter of using Huo Yang as source material…

It seemed that everything he had seen and heard lately was no different from the materials already available online. Huo Yang seemed to always harbor a grudge against him, maintaining a front just as he did in public perhaps even being more guarded around him.

This kind of character trope was too common. If he couldn’t dig deeper, it would be hard to write something brilliant.

He understood, though. In this era of entertainment-above-all, even the smallest details of an artist’s life could occupy the trending searches. Trending searches were a double-edged sword that could both carry and sink a boat; it was only natural for him to maintain distance from everyone around him.

If one looked only at the surface, Huo Yang himself truly embodied the words “gentle and modest.” Even for a minor actor who might leave the circle at any time with no hope of making it big, he was willing to use his own rest time to run lines with them.

Bai Tan contemplated for a moment, then continued to organize the character profile for the male lead of his new novel.

The Next Day.

The moment the six o’clock alarm rang, Bai Tan sat bolt upright.

Many people online said that the most painful thing in the world was waking up early for work, like ten thousand arrows piercing the heart.

But for Bai Tan, with the “carrot” of Huo Yang dangling in front of him, even marching toward a “firing squad” took on meaning.

He spent half an hour washing and dressing, using a curling iron to style his hair exquisitely, and selected a pair of star-shaped stud earrings from his jewelry box.

These were also handmade by his mother.

He opened his iPad to check Huo Yang’s schedule for the day.

During the day, it was the usual filming. At six in the evening, there would be a collective promotional gala for the crew, at which point he would need to help Huo Yang choose his outfit.

At 7:30, Bai Tan arrived at Huo Yang’s house and rang the doorbell.

He rang for a long time, but there was no response.

He called Huo Yang, but that also went unanswered.

Bai Tan stood at the door in thought for a moment. Although intruding into someone else’s home without permission was rude, Huo Yang had given him the passcode, likely for emergencies just like this.

“I’m coming in, excuse the intrusion,” he murmured to the air as he pressed the code.

Once inside, the house was silent.

“Teacher Huo? Are you up? We have to be at the set by eight sharp.” Bai Tan looked around, and seeing no one, went straight upstairs.

He peeked into the doorway of Huo Yang’s bedroom; the bed was empty and the blankets were neatly spread out. It looked like he was up.

It was already 7:40; if they didn’t leave now, they would really be late.

Just as Bai Tan was about to look for him in another room…

Whoosh… the bathroom door behind him opened.

Hot, humid steam rushed out, dispersing into the air.

Wet feet stepped onto the floor, making a moist “splat” sound against the tiles.

Bai Tan’s eyes widened involuntarily.

The man who suddenly appeared seemed to have just finished showering. He was only wearing a towel around his waist, and glistening droplets of water slid down the contours of his muscles, outlining graceful curves.

Bai Tan froze for a moment, his gaze uncontrollably sliding downward.

It landed just above the towel, at the junction of his private area.

Positioned amidst the powerful, knotted abdominal muscles was something bulging and full.

Bai Tan’s heart skipped a beat: Truly a healthy man.

“Still looking?” Huo Yang placed a hand on the edge of the towel, looking down from his tall stature at the little assistant who was staring blankly at his lower half.

Bai Tan quickly looked away and cleared his throat to hide the embarrassment:

“Teacher Huo, I knocked and called but no one answered, so I let myself in. My apologies.”

Huo Yang gave a faint “mm” and walked past him:

“I’ll change clothes and then we leave.”

Bai Tan followed him into the walk-in closet, his eyes widening in a mixture of surprise and awe.

It was a massive room of thirty or forty square meters, with all kinds of clothing categorized and arranged neatly. Just the various belts alone covered an entire wall.

It was dazzling to behold. Bai Tan suddenly wondered how Huo Yang’s previous assistants managed to choose from so many clothes.

“Teacher Huo, what’s your sign?” he asked out of nowhere.

Huo Yang’s gaze swept past him. After a long while, his brow furrowed slightly as he replied:

“I’m made of flesh.”

Bai Tan burst out laughing. Realizing it was a bit rude, he quickly stifled it.

He could tell that Huo Yang didn’t understand horoscopes, let alone research them; that was why he gave such a hilarious answer like “made of flesh.”

He thoughtfully changed his phrasing:

“When is your birthday?”

“December 11th.”

“Then that’s Sagittarius.” Bai Tan opened a horoscope app, switched from Cancer to Sagittarius, and muttered, “Your fortune is very good today. Your compatible sign is Gemini, your lucky number is five, and your lucky color is blue.”

Huo Yang stood with his arms crossed, looking down at him.

He watched as Bai Tan picked through a row of clothes, finally selecting a haze-blue wrap-neck pearlescent shirt, a black non-traditional suit jacket, and a double-layered double-breasted belt to pair with form-fitting black trousers.

Bai Tan helped Huo Yang into the shirt, meticulously adjusting the layered collar.

The neckline had no buttons; the two sides overlapped to create a very deep V-shape.

“Keep the jacket off until the promotional dinner. There’s air conditioning in the hall, so it won’t be too hot,” he muttered while tidying up.

Huo Yang slowly closed his eyes.

As Bai Tan lowered his head to fix the collar, his soft hair accidentally brushed against Huo Yang’s jaw.

Huo Yang took a deep breath through his nose.

The elegant scent of Chinese rice flower.

“Done.” Bai Tan withdrew his hand and checked the time. “Ten minutes left, we have to leave immediately.”

Huo Yang nodded and walked past him downstairs.

Just as they reached the door, he said to Bai Tan, “My phone is on the bedroom table, help me grab it.”

Bai Tan ran into the bedroom, searched around, found the phone, and unplugged it from the charger. He was about to leave when…

Eh—?

He slowly turned his head.

On the desk lay a sketch. In the drawing was a young boy who looked somewhat familiar.

Although from his professional perspective as an art student, the brushstrokes were minimal and lacked structural expression, the lines were clean and the perspective was fairly accurate.

Who was this a drawing of?

It really looked familiar.

After pondering over the sketch for a while, Bai Tan had an epiphany.

It looked a lot like that little actor from yesterday the one named Yang Yueqian.

Ah…

Bai Tan pursed his lips.

Was it what he thought it was?

As a professional assistant, he had to possess a professional “scent.” Even though the security here was excellent and ordinary people couldn’t get in, he inexplicably flipped the sketch over, as if afraid that a paparazzo might be lurking outside the third-floor window to take a photo.

He knew that many artists relied on hyping up “brotherhood” to increase popularity and eat from two plates at once, but he had also seen too many artists who, once they entered that circle, had no room to escape. Transitioning their image after that was harder than reaching the heavens.

If Huo Yang’s sexual orientation was like that, Bai Tan had to crush this secret and swallow it, letting it rot in his stomach forever.

Support