Flirted Then Forgot Everything - Chapter 13

The cross-dressing scene in Imprison Your Love takes place after Gao Mochen and Li Xiaoli have already met.

In their daily lives, Li Xiaoli is an ordinary university student who always wears white shirts, looking pure and innocent. Gao Mochen is a distinguished alumnus and famous entrepreneur returning to campus for a speech. They meet in a university lecture hall, where a single glance seals a lifetime of entanglement.

Li Xiaoli is poor, and his feelings for Gao Mochen are complex; he harbors a burgeoning affection for the man while simultaneously coveting his affluent background. He is aware of his own baseness yet remains uncontrollably drawn to Gao Mochen.

This cross-dressing scene was originally just a part-time job for Li Xiaoli. He sells liquor at a bar, using his female persona to boost sales, and running into Gao Mochen is a total accident. Noticing that Gao Mochen doesn’t recognize him in the dimly lit bar, Li Xiaoli decides to test him—to see if this man, who appears so proper and stoic by day, remains just as upright at night.

(It isn’t revealed until the latter half of the film that Gao Mochen actually recognized Li Xiaoli immediately; he merely feigned ignorance to see what the boy was planning.)

Jian Li sat on a small stool by the set, mentally rehearsing the scene over and over, refining every detail. He wasn’t classically trained and had never acted, but he had watched countless films and possessed a serious attitude. Despite his nerves for this first scene, he felt a sense of confidence.

The nightclub set had been constructed within the studio. The extras were in place, the lights dimmed, and everything was ready. A staff member stepped forward with the clapperboard. Jian Li took a deep breath and walked onto the set.

From this moment on, he was Li Xiaoli.

The music in the bar was deafening, and the kaleidoscopic lights were dizzying. Jian Li leaned against a corner with his head down, counting the tips he’d made selling drinks that night, calculating how much commission he could squeeze out of the bar owner. He wore a long, curly wig with half the strands draped over his front. His pale legs peeked through the high slit of his long gown; even standing in a corner, he drew the attention of many men.

“Two hundred, two hundred and thirty.”

Li Xiaoli ignored the wandering eyes, turning away to focus on counting his money. He had long since grown accustomed to such gazes.

It was then that Gao Mochen walked in with his friends, passing right by the money-counting Li Xiaoli. The light, distinct scent belonging to Gao Mochen drifted past his nose. Li Xiaoli looked up sharply, catching a glimpse of Gao

Mochen’s cold profile. Because his movement was so sudden, Gao Mochen glanced over briefly, his eyes sweeping across Li Xiaoli’s face without pausing before he moved on.

Li Xiaoli held his breath, his gaze following Gao Mochen until he saw him sit down in a booth with his friends. Only then did he exhale.

Gao Mochen hadn’t recognized him.

He watched Gao Mochen sitting in the booth, his eyes darting as a mischievous, wicked thought crossed his mind.

As Gao Mochen chatted with his friends, a woman suddenly sat down beside him. She wore exquisite makeup, and her high-slit gown fanned out as she sat, revealing a pair of long, slender legs.

The friend sitting opposite them teased, “Oh, miss, I think you’ve sat in the wrong place.”

The actor playing Gao Mochen’s friend was a young man named Zhuo Hongzhi. He wasn’t particularly famous, but he had plenty of acting experience; he hadn’t made much of an impression during the table reads. Jian Li looked up and felt that Zhuo Hongzhi’s gaze was somewhat off—it didn’t look like the playful teasing required for the scene, but rather something tinged with disdain.

The camera was zooming in, but Jian Li didn’t dwell on it. He immersed himself in the character of Li Xiaoli, shot a glare at Zhuo Hongzhi, then turned back to Gao Mochen, scooting closer until they were almost touching.

“Hey, handsome. Here to play?” Jian Li spoke, intentionally pitching his voice higher. It sounded androgynous and surprisingly pleasant.

Sitting behind the monitor, Yang Xu raised an eyebrow. He had originally planned to have Li Xiaoli’s female voice dubbed in post-production, but Jian Li had handled it himself, and it sounded quite good. It was a pleasant surprise.

Beyond just the voice, Jian Li seemed to have truly become Li Xiaoli from the moment the cameras started rolling—a natural, authentic Li Xiaoli without a trace of “performance.” Yang Xu stroked his chin, watching Jian Li on the monitor. He felt as if he were unearthing a treasure, and right now, he had just found the key to the chest.

Jian Li leaned forward, his hands pressing into the sofa as he slowly moved toward Yu Cheng. Yu Cheng sat still, watching him with cold eyes, as if watching a joke. Jian Li felt a momentary sense of disorientation; the line between Gao Mochen and Yu Cheng blurred, and he couldn’t tell who was truly in front of him.

As he got closer, Jian Li caught Yu Cheng’s scent—a very light fragrance, likely a perfume used for the role. He twitched his nose slightly, trying to find Yu Cheng’s own scent beneath the fragrance—something like morning mist or a forest after the rain. During their ten-minute hug earlier, Jian Li had memorized that scent deeply.

Actually, Jian Li was supposed to continue his lines now, but he seemed to have forgotten them. He only remembered to keep moving closer, looking deep into Yu Cheng’s eyes.

Yang Xu’s lips moved, but he ultimately swallowed the word “Cut.” Calling “cut” might have been the most efficient way to save time, but not calling it might lead to a more brilliant, soulful performance. Besides, this film was self-funded by Yu Cheng Studio; wasting time wasn’t costing the director’s own money.

Jian Li continued to move closer to Yu Cheng. He had not only forgotten that the man was supposed to be Gao Mochen, he had even forgotten he was playing Li Xiaoli. The hand he had used to brace himself on the sofa slowly lifted and came to rest on Yu Cheng’s leg.

Yu Cheng continued to look at him coldly, like a bystander watching a play, as if Jian Li were merely a toy. Jian Li frowned slightly; he couldn’t stand Yu Cheng looking at him that way. Even throughout this past year of being ignored or sneered at, Yu Cheng had never looked at him with such utter contempt.

Jian Li’s fingers on Yu Cheng’s leg twitched, and he slowly tightened his grip on the fabric of Yu Cheng’s trousers. He bit the tip of his tongue, reminding himself he was playing Li Xiaoli. The man before him wasn’t Yu Cheng; he was Gao Mochen.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Jian Li found his line. His voice was soft, and his expression held a hint of hurt. It was unclear if it was Li Xiaoli who was hurting, or Jian Li.

Yu Cheng, playing Gao Mochen, didn’t answer. He pulled out a cigarette case and skillfully flicked out a cigarette. The lighter made a soft rasping sound, and the flame illuminated Yu Cheng’s profile. Jian Li was still leaning forward, very close; the smell of smoke hit his nose, making him frown in discomfort.

Yu Cheng’s hand holding the cigarette twitched slightly toward an ashtray on his right. Seeing Jian Li’s discomfort, he seemed to want to extinguish the freshly lit cigarette immediately. But the movement was aborted as soon as it began.

He lowered his eyes and smoked, no longer looking at Jian Li.

Jian Li hated the smell of smoke—he loathed it, actually. But in this scene, to get Gao Mochen’s attention, he needed to snatch the cigarette and take a drag himself. Jian Li had rehearsed this countless times; he had even practiced smoking in private. Although he wasn’t skilled, he could endure a single puff.

Yang Xu watched the monitor intently. This was a long take, and he was already glad he hadn’t stopped it.

Jian Li moved even closer, reached out to snatch Yu Cheng’s cigarette, and took a deep, forceful drag. Because he moved too fast and inhaled too hard, a massive cloud of thick smoke hit the back of his throat, and he began to cough violently.

He coughed so hard his shoulders shook. The cigarette in his hand wobbled, and a clump of burning ash broke off, falling toward Jian Li’s bare thigh. Yu Cheng suddenly reached out and caught the ash in his palm—an unscripted move Jian Li didn’t even notice.

Yu Cheng calmly returned his hand to his side, not even looking at the violently coughing Jian Li as he delivered the final line of the scene:

“Get out.”

Yang Xu saw everything clearly through the monitor. Finally, he called the end.

“Cut!”

Yang Xu stood up and walked toward Jian Li, looking exhilarated. Jian Li was still coughing; he thought he had ruined the scene. Ignoring his own discomfort, he tried to apologize before he had even stopped coughing.

“Director, I, cough. I’m sorry.”

Yu Manman rushed forward with water and handed it to Jian Li. Beside them, Yu Cheng set down the water bottle he had just picked up, his movements natural as if nothing had happened.

Yang Xu helped pat Jian Li on the back, comforting him. “Don’t be in a hurry to talk, just take a breath.”

Once Jian Li recovered, Yang Xu said, “Why are you apologizing? You acted brilliantly!”

Jian Li shook his head. “Director, I’m sorry. Li Xiaoli is supposed to be a regular smoker, but I made it look like—”

“Aha.” Yang Xu drawled. “Who says Li Xiaoli must be an expert smoker? Rather than you smoking awkwardly, it’s better to interpret a Li Xiaoli who doesn’t actually know how to smoke. I think it’s quite good. I’m not that rigid of a director.”

“Besides, Yu Cheng coordinated well with you. First, he instinctively wanted to put out the cigarette but held back, and then he immediately caught the ash that almost fell on your leg, none of that was in the script. As expected of a Film King, your ability to improvise is top-notch.”

Yu Cheng’s expression remained stoic, accepting the praise with his usual composure. In many ways, he truly shared a certain temperament with the Gao Mochen of the script.

“The ash!” Jian Li suddenly panicked.

He grabbed Yu Cheng’s hand, meticulously inspecting his palm. “Did you get burned?”

Yu Cheng didn’t pull away, allowing Jian Li to hold his hand in front of the entire crew. Jian Li carefully traced the lines of Yu Cheng’s palm; only after confirming there wasn’t a single mark did he finally relax. He looked up, instinctively wanting to scold the man for being reckless, but the moment he met Yu Cheng’s eyes, the words died in his throat.

Thinking back to Yang Xu’s comments, Jian Li couldn’t help but admire the man. He knew he had butchered his own performance, yet Yu Cheng had improvised so naturally that he’d managed to save the scene. Jian Li was well aware that he had slipped out of character several times, only to be pulled back in by Yu Cheng’s steady presence.

Yu Cheng’s fingertips twitched. The pads of Jian Li’s fingers were still brushing against his palm, stirring a faint, lingering itch that traveled all the way to his chest.

“Congratulations, Host. Target Yu Cheng’s favorability +1.”

The system’s sudden broadcast startled Jian Li, and he quickly released Yu Cheng’s hand. Yu Cheng immediately turned and walked toward Zhou Qingbai, sitting down to rest with his eyes closed. For an actor, mastering the art of the “power nap” during long night shoots was a basic yet essential skill.

Zhou Qingbai, however, couldn’t resist teasing him. “Everyone else thinks that was just brilliant improvisation, but I saw it. You slipped up in that scene, didn’t you?”

Yu Cheng remained silent, eyes still shut.

Zhou Qingbai continued, “The one with the icy gaze was Gao Mochen. The one who spat out the word ‘Get out’ was Gao Mochen. But the one who instinctively wanted to crush the cigarette and the one who caught the ash, that was all Yu Cheng.”

Yu Cheng slowly opened his eyes and looked ahead. His dark pupils reflected the brilliant lights of the set, yet they remained unfathomable. He didn’t deny it.

Following Yu Cheng’s line of sight, Zhou Qingbai looked toward Jian Li’s resting area. Jian Li had already kicked off those cumbersome heels and tossed his long skirt over his lap, unabashedly wiggling his bare toes. He was incredibly fair; his toes almost seemed to glow under the lights, and his slender ankles looked like they could be encircled by a single hand.

As Jian Li rotated his ankles to soothe the ache from the heels, a shadow fell over him. Zhou Qingbai had walked over. He handed Jian Li a pair of brand-new slippers—the closed-toe kind that hid the feet entirely.

“I figured this was your first time on set and you might not have experience, so you probably didn’t bring slippers. Yu Cheng happened to have an extra pair, so he’s lending them to you.”

Yu Manman covered her face in shame, whispering, “Jian-ge, I’ll definitely have them ready for you next time!”

Jian Li waved her off, knowing she was just as green as he was. He took the slippers and offered his thanks.

Once Zhou Qingbai left, Jian Li slipped them on. He frowned slightly at the fit—it was perfect. Yu Cheng’s feet were much larger than his; how could an “extra” pair of slippers match his size so precisely?

Yu Manman piped up, “I know why! You’re the co-lead, Jian-ge! You’re a top-tier star. Even a Film King has to maintain a good relationship with his co-star, right? That must be what Yu Cheng means—he just used Zhou Qingbai as an excuse to send them over!”

Jian Li looked blankly toward Yu Cheng’s side, only to find the man was already watching him. Their gazes met across the distance for a heartbeat before they both looked away in unison.

Jian Li looked down at the slippers and gave his feet a little shake. He hadn’t eaten anything sweet, yet he felt a sudden, faint trace of sugar on the tip of his tongue.

So, Yu Cheng wants to be on good terms with me!