Perfect Divorce [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 20

Over the past few years, Yuan Xingzhou had participated in plenty of activities and was long accustomed to follow-up cameras.

At five past ten, the production crew’s car pulled up downstairs. Yuan Xingzhou warmly greeted the cameramen and led them around to film some B-roll of the apartment. He then saw them back downstairs, moved his own luggage into the vehicle, and returned to fetch Ye Huai.

However, Ye Huai’s luggage was far more than he had imagined. Yuan Xingzhou had assumed this “hands-off boss” would, at most, bring one suitcase. Who could have guessed there were two large trunks for clothes alone, plus one for shoes and another for daily necessities…

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

“Brother Huai, wake up… we’re going to a farmhouse, not Fashion Week.” Yuan Xingzhou really couldn’t hold back. He thanked the heavens that the cameraman hadn’t entered Ye Huai’s bedroom; if people knew he had four suitcases and was planning to bring…

Oh my God. Yuan Xingzhou glanced at the several Hermès “male god” bags tossed on the bed, ready to be packed, and nearly had a heart attack.

This was too much…

“It’s four days and three nights; we’ll be back on Monday,” Yuan Xingzhou said. “Brother Huai, why don’t you reconsider? Will you even use all this?”

“Who knows what we’ll be doing? I’ll need at least three outfits a day. What if it gets cold?” Ye Huai argued righteously. Finally, even he seemed to realize it was a bit much; after looking around, he grumpily narrowed it down to two bags.

Yuan Xingzhou had packed enough supplies for both of them anyway, so he wasn’t worried about anything being missing. He hurriedly helped push the luggage out.

“Wait a second,” Ye Huai called out. “You carry this.”

Yuan Xingzhou turned around and was instantly stunned. “A guitar?”

Ye Huai hadn’t brought this in his luggage when he first returned to the country; he must have brought it back from his family home two days ago.

Yuan Xingzhou hadn’t even known Ye Huai could play the guitar.

Ye Huai was already pushing the two giant trunks out. Hearing this, he urged, “Hurry up and take it, stop nagging. The crew is waiting.”

Yuan Xingzhou quickly strapped it to his back. Once downstairs, Ye Huai told him to put the guitar in the trunk, but Yuan Xingzhou refused.

“I’ll just hold it,” Yuan Xingzhou said. “The back is too crowded; what if it gets bumped or damaged?”

Once they were in the car and seated in the back row, Yuan Xingzhou carefully cradled the gig bag, checking it over. Finally, he urged, “Brother Huai, move over a bit. Give it some room.”

Ye Huai: “??”

Yuan Xingzhou: “The space in this car is too small.”

“It’s just a crappy guitar…” Ye Huai looked like he couldn’t stand it, but he shifted to the side. He then asked, “Where’s yours?”

“Lost,” Yuan Xingzhou replied, clutching the instrument as if it were his bride. “During that trip to Europe. It was stolen the night before we flew back.”

The one Ye Huai was asking about was the Martin D-28 that Yuan Xingzhou’s classmates had pooled their money to buy. Back then, one of his classmates had a relative specifically bring it over from the United States.

At that time, Yuan Xingzhou was self-taught and only had a “firewood stick” (a cheap, low-quality guitar) worth a few hundred yuan. He didn’t understand brands or quality at all.

When he found out the guitar was worth five figures, he was so shocked he couldn’t sleep all night. Later, he affectionately nicknamed the guitar “Old Ma” (Old Horse).

“Old Ma” was his most valuable possession and represented the beautiful hopes of his classmates. To Yuan Xingzhou, “Old Ma” was like an old partner. It accompanied him when he joined STAR; during concert talks and game segments, Yuan Xingzhou would use it to accompany others and liven up the atmosphere. Later, when STAR disbanded, they went to Europe to track down that producer.

Things had actually started to look up then; the producer was touched by Yuan Xingzhou and planned to give him a chance. Who could have guessed that at the critical moment, he received notice from the company?

Yuan Xingzhou was “soft-boned” and didn’t dare fight the company. Thus, the European trip turned into a trip to register his marriage with Ye Huai.

On the day of their appointment to register, he went to a bar with Ye Huai and several staff members. Afterward, still feeling the effects of the alcohol, Yuan Xingzhou went back to get his guitar and played a few songs for everyone.

“Showa Romance—I know you played that one,” Ye Huai said. “The other two were good too, but you didn’t announce the titles.”

“I forgot what I played too. After going back to the hotel that night, I left Old Ma on the sofa. There was too much going on the next day, so I didn’t notice. It wasn’t until the night before we were to return to the country that I found it was gone.” Yuan Xingzhou had been devastated at the time. He rarely lost his temper, but he raged all night, getting into heated arguments with the company staff and shouting at the hotel employees, his neck flushed and veins bulging.

However, how could the foreigners bother with him? They ignored him with a casual dismissive word. Everyone else rested and slept as usual.

The next day, he was dragged to the airport. His eyes were red even as he boarded the plane, always feeling that if he turned around, the guitar case would appear before him.

Later, during the long flight, he accepted the reality.

The guitar was gone. “Old Ma,” who had accompanied him from the campus to the stage and into the entertainment circle, had bid him a silent farewell in a foreign land. At that moment, Yuan Xingzhou completely gave up struggling. He believed he was likely destined to be neither a singer nor an idol.

It was fate.

“I haven’t touched a guitar in four years.” Remembering “Old Ma,” Yuan Xingzhou’s eyes grew warm. He looked out the window. “I’ll hold it for you; don’t let it get bumped.”

“What do you mean ‘hold it for me’?” Ye Huai said. “It’s yours.”

“You…” Yuan Xingzhou whirled around, nearly jumping in his seat. “What???”

Ye Huai crossed his legs with a casual air, looking like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I don’t know how to play. Why would I bring a guitar? To pose?”

Yuan Xingzhou: “!!!”

Realization hit Yuan Xingzhou late; he was too stunned to speak. “…You, you, you!”

Ye Huai: “…Whoo, whoo, whoo.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

“Unzip it and take a look,” Ye Huai’s lips curled slightly as he urged, “See if you like it. It’s been sitting for a long time and hasn’t been ‘opened’ (played-in) yet.”

This was the second time Yuan Xingzhou had been given a guitar. He didn’t know much about brands, but the moment he opened the bag and revealed the original hardshell case, he was still shocked.

A Water Road (WR) handmade guitar. The classic configuration of German Spruce and Brazilian Rosewood, and an incredibly ornate, flashy headstock…

“I was going to give you another one, made by Ervin Somogyi,” Ye Huai said, carefully watching his expression while maintaining a casual tone. “But since you seem to play mostly Japanese pieces, I found this one for you.”

Kishibe’s Showa Romance was played on a WR guitar. Ye Huai remembered him playing that song, so he gave him an instrument identical to the original artist’s.

Yuan Xingzhou was about to be scared to death…

When he was learning fingerstyle, he had seen others comment that WR guitars have an exceptionally sweet and romantic sound, perfect for Japanese “fresh” styles. Although some criticized the prices as inflated, regardless, WR was undoubtedly a high-end guitar, and everyone agreed they were beautiful.

Yuan Xingzhou hadn’t even dreamed of buying one.

Firstly, “Old Ma” had been good enough for him. Secondly, with his skill level, he was nowhere near worthy of a high-end guitar costing tens or even hundreds of thousands of yuan.

This one of Ye Huai’s was even a custom build with a flashy feather-pattern headstock—how many “soft-sister coins” (RMB) did that cost?

Yuan Xingzhou didn’t dare ask for it, or even touch it.

“I play many Japanese pieces because they are easier to learn—they’re entry-level,” Yuan Xingzhou said. “I’ll just…”

“Practice well.” Ye Huai cut him off before he could speak. “Prepare yourself; I want to hear it.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

Yuan Xingzhou’s words of refusal were instantly stuck in his throat.

Ye Huai didn’t know how to play the guitar; he must have brought it all this way hoping Yuan Xingzhou would use it during the show recording.

If Yuan Xingzhou was “precious” about it now, it would be ungrateful.

At worst, he would just return it to Ye Huai after the show finished recording.

Yuan Xingzhou could only comfort himself this way. However, he quickly realized—hadn’t he said he wanted to cook to get screen time? Did Ye Huai’s gesture mean he didn’t believe Yuan Xingzhou could actually pull off the cooking?

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

Exactly how bad was that black pepper beef willow?!

Ye Huai, however, seemed a bit uncomfortable, his brow slightly furrowed as if he wanted to sleep.

Yuan Xingzhou had to suppress his desire to chat and focus his attention back on the “baby” in his arms.

It’s too expensive, ahhh!

Yuan Xingzhou roared internally. Then he thought—thank goodness Ye Huai didn’t bring the Somogyi. That was a collector-grade master guitar. If he used it as a “firewood stick” to strum randomly, and guitar enthusiasts saw it on the show, they would die of heartache.

He spent the journey stroking the case, unable to resist opening it to look inside with eyes full of love. He thought: This beautiful, flashy headstock… why does it look more and more like Ye Huai the longer I look at it?

Do objects resemble their owners?

“What’s with that look?” Ye Huai had opened his eyes at some point, looking at him strangely. “Why is it so… explicit…”

Yuan Xingzhou felt a surge of guilt at being seen through. His face reddened, but then he realized Ye Huai had no idea what he was thinking.

“You don’t understand,” Yuan Xingzhou chuckled. “I’m caressing it with my eyes.”

Ye Huai: “…”

Ye Huai looked at him as if he were a lunatic for a few seconds, then turned his head away. “Hmm? Where are we going?”

One had been looking at the guitar and the other had been sleeping; neither had asked the crew where the destination was. The cameramen were resting in the car behind them. The driver, likely instructed not to chat, didn’t reply. Ye Huai’s question was essentially asked in vain.

Yuan Xingzhou also looked outside. They had been on the road for nearly an hour, and both sides of the road were now endless rolling hills, a sea of green as far as the eye could see.

It seemed Li Yi’s information was reliable, though this “farmhouse” was even more remote than they had imagined.

Ye Huai looked at the scenery for a while, but likely still drowsy, he changed positions and closed his eyes to rest again.

At noon, a cameraman came over from the car behind and started filming some material of the two.

Ye Huai hadn’t slept comfortably. He squinted his eyes half-awake, picked up his game console, furrowed his brow, and looked thoroughly impatient.

Yuan Xingzhou engaged in some awkward small talk with the camera. Halfway through, hearing Ye Huai muttering complaints behind him as the console kept making the Game Over sound, Yuan Xingzhou reached out, took Ye Huai’s controller, defeated the monster for him, and handed it back.

Ye Huai’s expression indeed improved. Half an hour later, the car finally entered the village and stopped at the bottom of a slope.

Ye Huai was yawning incessantly, his face full of weariness and regret.

After a two-and-a-half-hour drive, Yuan Xingzhou also felt uncomfortable all over. But he often dealt with such transitions during filming; he could endure hardship a bit better than Ye Huai.

“Bear with it.” Once the cameraman got out, Yuan Xingzhou hurried to comfort him. “I saw the recording process; there’s usually a nap at noon. Once we go up, you can sleep for a bit.”

“Let’s go then,” Ye Huai said helplessly. “So much trouble.”

After saying that, he pushed the door open and got out, just as Li Yi and a long-legged male guest happened to be coming down.

“Xingzhou!” Li Yi waved to Yuan Xingzhou from afar, greeting him with a smile. “Heavens, what a coincidence! Have you eaten?”

“We ate a bit before leaving,” Yuan Xingzhou said. “Are you going out?”

“To buy groceries; the house is out of vegetables and meat,” Li Yi said. “Then you two definitely haven’t had lunch, right? I’ll bring some back for you. Is there anything you want to eat?”

Yuan Xingzhou hesitated and looked back at Ye Huai.

“Do you want dessert?” the long-legged male guest joked. “Our funds are limited here; dessert is a luxury for us.”

Hearing “limited funds,” Yuan Xingzhou waved his hand quickly. “No need then. I’m not hungry.”

“Try it, the family that makes it does a great job.” The long-legged man smiled and reached out to Yuan Xingzhou. “I’m Sun Kai, a model.”

“Yuan Xingzhou.” Yuan Xingzhou quickly shook his hand. “A minor actor.”

“Your name is very beautiful,” Sun Kai said. “Passing through the Xingzhou in succession, the brilliant misty scenery unfolds. Your name sounds very romantic. Oh, you’re carrying a guitar? Can we hear you sing?”

This was the first time Yuan Xingzhou had heard someone speak so eloquently about his name, making him a bit embarrassed. However, like Li Yi, Sun Kai clearly had good intentions toward him, proactively “cuing” him to play the guitar as soon as they met.

Yuan Xingzhou nodded hurriedly. Just then, Ye Huai came over pushing his suitcases. After a round of introductions, they parted ways. Yuan Xingzhou and Ye Huai pulled their luggage up the slope to find the person in charge to arrange their accommodation.

Although the place chosen by the crew was remote, the accommodation was quite good. The lodging area was divided into three small white buildings with minimalist interior decor. There were small gardens between the buildings, and the three villas had private bridges and courtyards, hidden in a sea of flowers and trees—it felt different immediately.

Yuan Xingzhou did a quick check and learned that Building A was for filming the short plays. The person in charge and the staff lived in Building B; the lobby there was also the communal activity area, scattered with sofas, soft couches, and beanbags. On the other side was the dining area and kitchen.

Building C was the lodging for the guests.

Yuan Xingzhou and Ye Huai were assigned a room on the second floor. Opening the door, they saw an entire glass wall on the opposite side, overlooking the lush mountain forest.

Yuan Xingzhou’s mouth dropped open in surprise, but as he turned around, his expression froze.

The person in charge said, “Everyone else is in three-person dorms. You two have a private room, though the space is a bit small. The bed has been padded out with stuff, so you should be able to lie down.”

In the room, opposite the glass wall, there was only one small single bed. Even after being widened, it was less than 1.5 meters—two grown men would have to huddle together to sleep.

But the production crew viewed them as a couple, so this arrangement was natural.

Yuan Xingzhou planned to sleep on the floor. After looking around, he asked the person in charge, “Are there cameras in here?”

“No,” the person in charge laughed. “This building only has cameras in the hallways.”

Yuan Xingzhou breathed a sigh of relief.

Once the person left, Ye Huai immediately flopped onto the bed. Yuan Xingzhou drew the curtains and checked the room one more time with his phone.

“There are no cameras,” Ye Huai said tiredly. “Stop looking and sleep for a bit.”

“In a second,” Yuan Xingzhou even searched under the bed before feeling at ease. He said to Ye Huai, “I’ll just sleep on the floor.”

Ye Huai: “Did you bring a sleeping bag?”

“No. It’s a wooden floor anyway; I’ll just wrap myself in a quilt. When they come, I’ll put the quilt away.” Yuan Xingzhou felt his plan was solid, drew the curtains back, and turned to grab a quilt.

Ye Huai lay on the bed, looking at him gloomily.

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

“Where… where are the quilts?” Yuan Xingzhou was stunned for a long moment. “Why is there only one?”

Ye Huai sighed.

There was only one quilt in the room. If Yuan Xingzhou took it to sleep on the floor, Ye Huai would have nothing to cover himself with. If Yuan Xingzhou took the mattress topper, Ye Huai would be sleeping on wood, and there would still only be one quilt.

It was already October, and the mountain air was cool; either way, they both risked catching a cold.

“Hurry up,” Ye Huai pinched the bridge of his nose, saying a bit impatiently, “Stop messing around. We won’t sleep for long anyway; we have tasks to do this afternoon.”

“Didn’t you sleep all day yesterday?” Yuan Xingzhou didn’t dare be coy. He could only cautiously move over and lie down at the edge of the bed.

Ye Huai turned his face to look at him. “Who said I slept all day?”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

Ye Huai hadn’t come out of his room all day yesterday; what else could he have been doing in there if not sleeping?

Yuan Xingzhou was puzzled but too embarrassed to ask, so he just blinked and acted dumb.

“Do you know the Little Dragon Maiden?” Ye Huai asked suddenly.

Yuan Xingzhou: “Huh?”

“I don’t…?” Yuan Xingzhou didn’t know why the topic had jumped there. He said blankly, “Do you mean Liu—”

“Then why are you practicing sleeping in mid-air?” Ye Huai asked.

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

Yuan Xingzhou didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He thought: Can’t you just say what you mean? He quickly moved further in. The two pillows were of different heights, clearly cobbled together by the crew; Yuan Xingzhou’s side was slightly lower than Ye Huai’s.

He quickly switched to sleeping on his side, but after turning his back, he felt it seemed a bit impolite. He turned back to face him, only to find Ye Huai’s face right in front of him. He could clearly see the slight dorsal hump on the bridge of his nose.

Ye Huai’s nose was very straight; one wouldn’t notice that slight curve without looking closely. And because the tip of his nose was tucked in, it gave an exceptionally rugged feel. This was the first time Yuan Xingzhou had looked at him so closely, and he discovered Ye Huai’s brow bone was the same—beautifully shaped, yet achieving a magical balance between ruggedness and delicacy.

No wonder Ye Huai was so beautiful, yet no one ever called him “girly.”

Yuan Xingzhou unconsciously became entranced. He even couldn’t help but start to feel a sense of admiration, and wondered if Ye Huai had ever been in love.

He knew Ye Huai definitely didn’t lack confessions. On the night they went to the bar, someone had sent Ye Huai a drink. During the few days Yuan Xingzhou spent with him, he always saw people of different skin tones and ages casting glances at Ye Huai, intentionally or otherwise.

This man’s appearance was superb, and his family background was also excellent. He could give away a guitar worth over a hundred thousand yuan as a casual gift. If he were any other boy or girl, as long as Ye Huai showed a bit of interest, he would definitely marry him on the spot.

What a pity. The two of them were already married, but it was a contract marriage, and they were currently on the path to divorce.

Yuan Xingzhou knew in his heart that Ye Huai felt a certain level of sympathy for him and a desire to help, which was why he participated in the show and responded to the “Huai-Zhou” topic. And he also knew in his heart that the “Huai-Zhou CP” was a place where he felt a great sense of security.

So while he had promised Ye Huai he would find a perfect way to divorce, he also felt a subtle internal resistance.

They would have to divorce sooner or later; Ye Huai couldn’t keep helping him forever. He had his own career and life.

And he himself shouldn’t continue to avoid it.

Yuan Xingzhou sighed secretly, thinking about what kind of “persona” he should use these few days.

Should he be a burden who is weak and indecisive when things happen, always letting Ye Huai clean up his messes?

Or should he be a narrow-minded person who is too jealous and insecure, making people feel suffocated?

Either way, he had to “blacken” himself a bit. He could never accept Li Yu’s idea of pushing the blame onto Ye Huai.

Beside him, Ye Huai frowned slightly and turned his face uncomfortably.

With a mind full of thoughts, Yuan Xingzhou lightly raised his hand to block the light shining directly onto him. Sure enough, Ye Huai’s features relaxed again, and his mouth even gave a little smack.

Yuan Xingzhou couldn’t help but smile. After watching for a while longer, he thought: I hope in the future, we can be friends.