Flirted Then Forgot Everything - Chapter 14

After this scene, there was another segment where Li Xiaoli, still in drag, performs a dance to test Gao Mochen.

Yang Xu moved at a breakneck pace, allowing them only a brief rest before jumping into the next take. Before filming began, Yang Xu pulled Jian Li aside for a few specific pointers.

“Xiao Jian, I know you can dance, but the style you usually perform is different from what I need. Remember, you’re playing a woman right now. Li Xiaoli is a regular at these nightlife spots; he’s intimately familiar with how the women in clubs dance. When you try it in a moment, I want it to be fluid and alluring, but it must not look greasy or cheap. Understood?”

Jian Li nodded. Looking at the stage on the set, he mentally choreographed a series of movements. He selected a few specific steps, linked them together, and signaled to Yang Xu that he was ready.

The deafening music kicked in again. Having just been told to “get out” by Gao Mochen, Li Xiaoli wasn’t angry; instead, he stood up slowly, his voice soft and honeyed.

“Don’t be mad, handsome. How about I dance for you?”

With that, he stepped onto the stage and looked back at Gao Mochen, grabbing the pole and spinning once. His waist was incredibly supple, the elegant curve of his back clearly visible as he turned. The men in the club watched with bated breath, hoping he would stay on the pole, but Li Xiaoli didn’t play along. He walked to the edge of the stage, performed a few playful steps, and then hopped down, continuing to dance as he closed the distance toward Gao Mochen.

The prop department had built a very realistic set. The stage was over a meter high, and Jian Li had underestimated the physical toll of the “sky-high” heels. The moment his feet hit the floor, a sharp sting shot through his ankle.

Fortunately, his expression remained unchanged, staying perfectly in character as Li Xiaoli.

Following his plan, he moved toward Gao Mochen. When he finally stood before him, Gao Mochen stood up. Even with Li Xiaoli in high heels, the man was significantly taller. Without sparing a glance—as if Li Xiaoli were some kind of contagion—he turned and walked away.

Gao Mochen’s friend scrambled to follow, and Li Xiaoli stopped dancing. He watched Gao Mochen’s figure vanish into the depths of the bar. The annoyance on his face faded, replaced by a smirk.

“Who would’ve thought, he really is that proper.”

When Li Xiaoli spoke this time, his voice had returned to its usual crisp, boyish tone.

“Cut!”

The moment Yang Xu called it, Jian Li collapsed onto a nearby sofa, kicked off the heels, and rotated his ankle. The surface of his right ankle showed no signs of injury, but the sharp pain persisted whenever he moved it.

Yu Cheng hadn’t left; he was looking directly at Jian Li’s ankle. He realized Jian Li had twisted it and was about to speak when Jian Li pressed a finger to his lips.

“Shh.”

Jian Li didn’t want to cause trouble on his first day or make his colleagues think he was fragile. Yu Manman rushed over with his slippers. Jian Li changed into them and stood up, walking toward the dressing room while feigning total normalcy.

Yu Cheng frowned slightly and followed him. Yu Manman tried to follow as well, but she was suddenly blocked by Zhou Qingbai appearing from the side.

“Manman, help me go grab a few things. They’re all for Jian Li.”

Jian Li turned back to see Yu Manman looking at him with a dazed expression. He suddenly recalled her earlier theory and looked at Yu Cheng beside him. Could it be that Yu Cheng really wants to get on good terms with me? Is that why he had Zhou Qingbai lure Manman away—so we could be alone?

Jian Li took hold of Yu Cheng’s arm. Under Yu Cheng’s surprised gaze, he nodded to Yu Manman. “Manman, go with Zhou-ge.”

Then, Jian Li looked up at Yu Cheng, flashing a row of neat white teeth. “Film King Yu, are you busy for a bit? How about we go grab some late-night snacks?”

Yu Cheng glanced at Jian Li’s ankle. “Doesn’t your foot hurt?”

Jian Li finally remembered his injury and nodded pitifully. “It hurts.”

Yu Cheng shifted his grip to support Jian Li’s arm, guiding him slowly toward the dressing room. “Follow me.”

They didn’t go to Jian Li’s room, but Yu Cheng’s. Since Yu Cheng spent most of his life on sets, he was always well-prepared. However, when Yu Cheng turned around holding a small medical kit adorned with a fluffy bunny tail and ears, Jian Li couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“You like bunnies, too?”

Yu Cheng looked at the bunny kit, mercilessly grabbed it by the ears to open it, and pulled out a spray and some ointment. Then, he knelt on one knee before Jian Li. The movement was so natural that Jian Li instinctively tried to pull back, but Yu Cheng caught his ankle.

The slender, pale ankle truly could be encircled by a single hand. Yu Cheng rested Jian Li’s foot on his own knee and pressed around the joint. “Does it hurt here?”

Jian Li let out a soft hiss and nodded honestly. “It really hurts.”

In front of Yu Cheng, Jian Li always found himself unintentionally opening up, dropping his bravado and pretenses. Even though Yu Cheng hadn’t been kind to him over the past year, his presence alone felt incredibly reliable.

Yu Cheng kept his head down, carefully massaging the ankle. Jian Li watched Yu Cheng’s fingers, his own toes curling instinctively as a blush crept over them. Noticing Jian Li’s reddened toes, Yu Cheng’s hands faltered for a fraction of a second before he continued, pretending not to notice.

Jian Li didn’t dare look at those fingers anymore, shifting his gaze to the medical kit. Near the bunny tail, there was a small sticker—a dark little icon that looked like a nut.

Once the massage was done and the spray applied, Jian Li snapped back to his earlier suggestion. “So, Film King Yu, snacks?”

Yu Cheng packed the kit, saying without looking up, “Yu Cheng.”

Jian Li blinked. Yu Cheng repeated, “Yu Cheng.”

Jian Li hesitated. “Yu Cheng?”

“Mm.”

Jian Li repeated the name a few more times. The more he said it, the more natural it felt. After several repetitions, Yu Cheng looked back at him. Jian Li shut his mouth immediately, thinking of his pathetic 61 favorability points and his precarious life. He finally decided to put in some real effort to raise that score.

Conquering this version of Yu Cheng wasn’t something he disliked; in fact, he felt a flicker of anticipation. (The system was practically moved to tears, relieved that the host was finally getting down to business.)

“Shall we head out then? To get some snacks?”

The film set was in the local film city, where many food stalls stayed open late into the night. Yu Cheng looked at Jian Li’s current outfit, then back at his ankle.

Jian Li lifted his foot slightly. “It’s fine. I’m wearing slippers, so it doesn’t hurt that much. We’re surrounded by crew members anyway; I’ll just throw on a coat. It’s too much trouble to change now and then change back later.”

Seeing Jian Li’s persistence, Yu Cheng didn’t argue further.

“Do you know any good places nearby?” Jian Li asked, walking beside him.

“Follow me,” Yu Cheng said, taking the lead.

Jian Li followed, watching Yu Cheng’s back, his ankle feeling icy from the medicinal spray. What does Yu Cheng actually think of me? Yu Cheng didn’t know about the car accident or the amnesia. How would he feel about a person who once pursued him, then suddenly vanished and acted like a stranger, only to orbit around him once again?

“System, do you know what happened the last time I saw Yu Cheng before the memory loss?”

“I am sorry, but I cannot inform the host.”

“Tsk.”

Jian Li pulled his coat tighter, burying his chin in the collar and shuffling along in his slippers to keep up. Having been in the industry since his debut, Yu Cheng was familiar with every film city in the country and knew all the best hidden gems.

The path grew a bit secluded, the lights thinning out into a dim, quiet glow. A cool breeze drifted past occasionally. Looking at the dark surroundings, Jian Li feigned fear, taking a quick step forward to grab Yu Cheng’s sleeve. Yu Cheng acted as if he hadn’t noticed and didn’t stop him. Jian Li smiled secretly, giving the sleeve a little tug.

They emerged at a spicy hotpot (malatang) shop with a sign that was halfway falling off. Jian Li’s eyes lit up; he had always been a spice fanatic, and malatang was one of his favorite comfort foods.

Yu Cheng led him inside. Since it was late, the shop was quiet. They sat in a corner and waited for their order in a brief silence. When the two steaming bowls arrived, Jian Li’s was swimming in bright red chili oil, while Yu Cheng’s was a clear, bland broth without a trace of spice—completely unappetizing to look at.

Jian Li was stunned and blurted out, “You don’t eat spicy food?”

Yu Cheng looked up at him. His gaze was deep, as if hiding a thousand unspoken things, making Jian Li’s heart skip a beat.

Jian Li suddenly realized a serious problem. If he had pursued Yu Cheng and spent time with him before, there was no way he wouldn’t have known the man didn’t eat spice. Yet Yu Cheng never asked—he never asked why Jian Li had reappeared, what his goal was, or why he didn’t remember his dietary preferences.

The fragrant hotpot suddenly lost its flavor. Jian Li wondered if Yu Cheng had already started to suspect something.

“System, does Yu Cheng know?”

The system remained silent, nearly dying of frustration at such a dim-witted host.

“Not to your taste?”

Jian Li looked up at Yu Cheng through the rising steam. He licked a drop of broth from his lip and asked cautiously, “If you don’t eat spice, why did you bring me here?”

Yu Cheng handed him a tissue, answering with a non-sequitur: “Wipe your mouth.”

Jian Li took the tissue and hurriedly wiped his mouth, smearing off the lipstick from the shoot in the process.

Forget it, he thought, I’ll deal with the consequences after I’m full!

Yu Cheng watched Jian Li eat with such gusto before finally lowering his head to continue with his own bland, clear-broth hotpot.

Once finished, Jian Li set his chopsticks down with a definitive clack. He looked resolute, yet didn’t quite dare to meet the other man’s eyes.

“Yu Cheng!”

Thinking of Yu Manman’s theory, the slippers on his feet, and the fact that his very life depended on Yu Cheng’s favorability, he squeezed his eyes shut and summoned every ounce of courage.

“Let’s try to get along from now on!”

The words hung in the air. Yu Cheng didn’t respond for a long time.

Jian Li opened his eyes only to find the seat across from him empty. He looked up and saw Yu Cheng already at the counter, waiting for the owner to hand back his change.

Jian Li: “…” Jian Li’s face nearly contorted with irritation.

Having finished the transaction, Yu Cheng turned back. Suddenly, his expression went cold, and he began striding toward the table with heavy steps.

Jian Li froze, only to see Yu Cheng walk straight past him. He reached toward the table of a customer sitting behind them and held out his hand.

“Give me the phone.”

The person had come in after them. It was unclear if he was a staff member from another crew or a paparazzo who had snuck in. Hearing Yu Cheng’s demand, he shrank back, protesting:

“Why should I give you my phone? Who do you think you are? The Jade Emperor? I wouldn’t give it up even if the King of Heaven himself showed up!”

Without a word, Yu Cheng grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it with force. The man let out a sharp cry of pain and loosened his grip, letting the phone clatter onto the table.

Tossing the man’s hand aside, Yu Cheng picked up the device, wiped the photo gallery clean, and threw the phone back.

Cradling his phone, the man winced in pain, hurling curses.

“You’re out of your mind! I’m suing you for assault! You think deleting the gallery fixes this? Look! I already sent the photos out! Hahaha—scared now? Give me a million, and maybe I’ll consider not letting the media leak them!”

Jian Li peeked back through the hair shielding his face. He saw that the man was holding up a phone display showing a Xunsheng chat page; the candid photos had indeed been sent to someone else.

The pictures showed Yu Cheng’s face clearly, but only captured Jian Li’s back.

Seeing Yu Cheng’s silence, the man assumed he had gained the upper hand and continued to bluster:

“‘Film King Yu’s late-night secret tryst with a mysterious girlfriend’—now that’s a headline. A million to bury it? That’s a steal, isn’t it?”

Jian Li realized then that this man didn’t know it was him; he genuinely thought Jian Li was a woman.

Yu Cheng’s gaze grew colder, looking at the man as if he were looking at trash.

The paparazzo, convinced he held the winning cards, became increasingly bold with his provocations:

“You sure know how to play, Film King. You’re still in the middle of that mess with the top star Jian Li, you’re even filming a movie together, yet you don’t forget to have a private date with a woman late at night. If your fans find out you’re finished, aren’t you?”

Yu Cheng finally spoke, his tone dripping with contempt.

“Is that so?”

He suddenly shrugged off his coat and draped it over Jian Li’s head.

“Keep yourself covered.”

Everything went dark for Jian Li. He instinctively gripped the coat over his head, and in the next second, he felt himself being lifted off the ground. He was scooped up and settled firmly onto Yu Cheng’s forearm.

Yu Cheng kept one hand free to support Jian Li’s back and steady him.

Jian Li released one hand to hook it around Yu Cheng’s neck, his eyes widening beneath the coat.

Yu Cheng was carrying him like a child again! No one had held him like this since his grandfather.

Yu Cheng’s voice rang out near Jian Li’s ear, devoid of even a trace of fear.

“You wanted to take photos? Then take as many as you want.”