Perfect Divorce [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 45

Fu Sheng was already up there in years; was Yuan Xingzhou really so short-sighted that he would fall for an old man?

Ye Huai knew the other man was baiting him, but right now, he was like a starving ghost who had finally gotten a few licks of choice meat. Before it had even settled in his stomach, how could he tolerate someone else coveting it? Thus, even though he knew he was falling for a trick, he couldn’t help but take it seriously.

“Try to channel that feeling into the scene,” Fu Sheng suggested. “Would you truly bow your head and call me master?”

They were reshooting a previous confrontation between the brothers. The two were sparring, and Fu Sheng’s character intended to lecture Ye Huai on the ways of the world, but Ye Huai’s character was arrogant and determined to challenge his elder brother.

Ye Huai had the cold, handsome looks and crisp martial arts movements required for the role, but in the dialogue-heavy scenes—the “literary” moments—his greenness as a newcomer became glaringly obvious. His presence was often smothered by Fu Sheng’s veteran aura, failing to produce the necessary tension.

Yuan Xingzhou could sense it too. To be honest, never mind an actor of Fu Sheng’s caliber; even compared to ordinary drama school graduates, idols who transitioned into acting were easily crushed when sharing the frame.

For an idol to successfully transition, they needed more than just talent; their environment was crucial—a patient director, seniors who didn’t intentionally suppress them, and a manager who wasn’t rushing them off to commercial events… all of it was necessary.

In terms of acting, Yuan Xingzhou had been incredibly lucky; even his fans summarized his career with the word “fortune.” The story of how he turned a disaster into a blessing and was handpicked by a director was still frequently discussed.

But only Yuan Xingzhou knew the truth. Back then, scandals had followed him like a cloud. His co-stars gossiped behind his back and mocked him using internet memes. The second female lead, who was playing up a “straight-talker” persona at the time, even asked him to his face, “Are you a scheming bitch?”

That clip had gone viral, with everyone praising the actress for being “real.”

Yuan Xingzhou would get scolded by the director by day and cry under his blankets after reading the comments at night. Yet, he never dared to cry too hard, fearing swollen eyes would ruin his makeup the next morning. Perhaps it was then that a desperate hunger to get famous took root in his heart.

Once I’m famous, no one can bully me.

Over the last two years, while Li Yu picked scripts for him, Yuan Xingzhou had been studiously observing others, learning their craft. But he still lacked confidence. Sometimes he felt he could take the next step; other times, he felt he had reached his limit…

Coming to see Ye Huai was partly out of longing, but also out of worry that Ye Huai would be bullied as a newcomer. Looking at it now, although some people looked down on the “fresh meat” who had dropped from the sky, the director was the encouraging type, and Fu Sheng was actively guiding him into the role.

“Excellent!” The reshoot was a success after just one take. The director was clearly satisfied, praising them both. “Great grasp of the tension! Tonight really felt like a clash of blades. Ye Huai, huge improvement!”

Ye Huai listened intently, feeling that he had finally caught the right “vibe,” and gave an embarrassed smile.

Fu Sheng nodded. As the crew moved on to film other actors, Ye Huai went to find Yuan Xingzhou, only to find Fu Sheng following right behind him. The veteran actor smiled warmly at Yuan.

Startled and flattered, Yuan Xingzhou hurried to greet him. “Hello, Teacher Fu!”

“Hello, hello,” Fu Sheng chuckled. “Yuan Xingzhou, right? I’ve seen your show.”

Yuan Xingzhou blinked in surprise.

“That instrument you play,” Fu Sheng made a guitar-strumming motion and gave a thumbs-up. “It sounds wonderful.”

Yuan Xingzhou knew Fu Sheng’s background. He started in a song and dance troupe, became a TV king, then transitioned to the big screen and swept the Best Actor awards. A middle-aged god of the industry, he had both fame and fortune. His popularity had only dipped recently because he hadn’t released a new film in two years.

Seeing the admiration in Yuan’s eyes, Ye Huai felt a prickle of dissatisfaction. He moved closer and subtly took Yuan Xingzhou’s hand.

Fu Sheng burst into laughter. “Since you arrived, Ye Huai’s confidence has shot up.” He had two chairs brought over and signaled for the three of them to sit.

Ye Huai kept Yuan’s hand firmly on his own lap, though his gaze remained on the set.

“You have to learn to relax,” Fu Sheng said. “When I first started, I was always nervous, my muscles constantly tensed. My first lesson from my mentor was about relaxation. When you’re tense, your brain lacks blood flow, and your reactions dull. Forgetting lines and movements is inevitable…”

Ye Huai turned to look at him, then at Yuan. Yuan Xingzhou guessed Fu Sheng was giving them an impromptu acting masterclass.

“Xingzhou, how did you find your ‘feeling’ in your first role?” Fu Sheng asked.

Yuan hadn’t dared to give Ye Huai advice before for fear of misleading him, but with a senior present, he spoke honestly. “I’m a bit slow, so I… I just imitated. For my first role as a scheming person, I observed the people around me to see if anyone was like that…”

In truth, he had observed the second female lead, knowing from her bullying that she was no saint. He had memorized her micro-expressions and habits while waiting on set and channeled them into his character. Those details had made his performance feel grounded, though the director back then was the “tough love” type who rarely praised, leaving Yuan in doubt for a long time.

“Actors are fragile creatures,” Fu Sheng smiled. “Don’t look at my seniority; whenever a director frowns or gets anxious, I still feel uneasy. Every time they ask for a reshoot, the pressure is immense.”

He turned his focus to Ye Huai. “Your natural advantages are obvious, and you’ve improved fast, but hard work alone won’t fix everything. Your current problem is a lack of confidence and a scattered mind. It makes your performance unnatural.”

Yuan Xingzhou instinctively squeezed Ye Huai’s hand. Ye Huai, used to being praised, looked a bit awkward and prickly.

“Thank you, Brother Fu,” Yuan said, squeezing Ye Huai’s hand again. “I have the same problem. Is there a solution?”

“Not really. You can read books or watch lectures, but it comes down to personal comprehension,” Fu Sheng said. “For me, it’s just a few words: relax your body, focus your mind. No matter what, as long as you are performing, do not let yourself ‘exit’ the scene. Don’t think about other things… stay focused.”

Fu Sheng emphasized to Ye Huai: “Focus. Don’t think about proving yourself or making others believe in you. As an actor, all your attention should be on the character.”

“Thank you.” Ye Huai understood the guidance. Though he was still a bit stiff, he offered his thanks and asked, “Why didn’t you say this before?”

Fu Sheng looked at Yuan Xingzhou and laughed. “I was afraid that if I spent too much time alone with you, people would gossip.”

Ye Huai: “…”

“Some people in the crew love to wag their tongues. They say anything. There are rumors that your marriage is fake and that you only got this role because you clung to me,” Fu Sheng teased. “I was worried too! I have a fierce wife at home; I didn’t dare be alone with you. But now that your wife is here… well, I’m safe.”

Ye Huai’s expression instantly relaxed. He shared a look of silent understanding with Fu Sheng.

Yuan Xingzhou was still laughing along until the words sank in. He protested, “Wait, who said I’m the wife? Shouldn’t I be the husband?”

At midnight, Fu Sheng had retreated to his trailer. Ye Huai was resting on a recliner with a blanket, eyes closed. Yuan Xingzhou, wearing a coat, sat beside him with his hands tucked under the blanket, where Ye Huai was idly playing with them.

Ye Huai opened one eye. “What, planning a rebellion?”

Yuan’s face heated up, but he whispered back, “We haven’t even fought a war yet, how can there be a rebellion?”

There was no one around, and their whispered conversation felt both cozy and thrilling.

“Oh?” Ye Huai leaned in. “Does Brother need to show you his ‘gun’?”

Yuan Xingzhou wasn’t thick-skinned enough for this and shot him a glare.

“You dare talk about ‘microscopes’…” Ye Huai saw no one was looking and guided Yuan’s hand downward. “How about now?”

Yuan Xingzhou’s face turned scarlet. In broad daylight—well, in public—Ye Huai was actually “pitching a tent.” Wasn’t he afraid the director would call him over?! But the size… Yuan was momentarily stunned. Does spending years abroad change one’s ‘hardware’ specs?

“…It’s all your fault.” Ye Huai didn’t let him linger, giving Yuan’s hand a firm squeeze before laughing.

“It was so sudden,” Yuan said after a while, his face cooling slightly as he checked their surroundings. “When did you… start having feelings for me?”

Ye Huai arched an eyebrow. “What about you?”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he started liking Ye Huai. Affection was a vague concept—a cocktail of admiration, habit, and longing. If he had to pick a moment of “falling,” that first glimpse years ago counted. But for a definitive heart-fluttering moment, it had to be Christmas Eve—leaning on Ye Huai’s shoulder, heart thundering, terrified of being pushed away but too shameless to move.

“When we were in the group,” Yuan said, deciding not to be too specific. He knew Ye Huai wanted him to admit to falling first. “I had the secret crush first.”

“Mm, I knew it,” Ye Huai said, looking pleased. “I…”

Yuan’s eyes widened, waiting for the answer. The night wind ruffled his bangs, revealing his clear forehead and elegant nose. His eyes had a naturally romantic curve to them. Looking at him closely, Ye Huai felt Yuan had “grown” himself well; his eyes were clear, like rippling water.

“You little rascal…” Ye Huai hooked a finger under his chin. “If you had confessed back then, I might have agreed.”

“Liar!” Yuan didn’t believe him for a second. “If I’d said it then, you would have cracked my skull and thrown me out the window.”

Ye Huai paused, then laughed. “Fine. For me… it was during the variety show. Hermaphroditus.”

Yuan was stunned, trying to remember what he’d done those two days. Ye Huai pulled his hand from under the blanket, tapped on his phone, and handed it over.

Yuan looked down and realized—the screen showed the Louvre sculpture, The Sleeping Hermaphroditus. The beautiful youth lay on his side, exposing a smooth back and hips, beautiful yet erotic.

I do like sleeping in that position, but I was definitely wearing clothes! Then it hit him. The day Ye Huai had put the anklet on him… he had been sleeping in just a T-shirt…

“I don’t have breasts!” Yuan pointed out the flaw in the comparison, then asked curiously, “Is this a person with both sexes?”

Ye Huai nodded. “Mm. In medicine, it’s Hermaphroditism. But in myth, he was a beautiful youth who a water nymph fell for. She couldn’t have him, so she prayed to the gods that they be merged into one.”

Though he knew Ye Huai was calling him beautiful, Yuan’s focus drifted. “…That’s a tragic story. What did the boy do to deserve that?”

“He provoked me,” Ye Huai whispered, grabbing Yuan’s hand and playing with his fingers. “…If you don’t agree, I’ll bind you too, so you can never run.”

Yuan looked at him, amused. “Bind me with what?”

“The contract, obviously,” Ye Huai said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “See if you dare run.”

The talk of “binding” brought them back to Fu Sheng’s words. Why were there rumors of a fake marriage on this set too? It felt like everyone knew.

Yuan found it strange. He knew Yuan Cheng had told some guests, but how wide was Yuan Cheng’s circle? Besides, he and Ye Huai had been “in character” constantly. Even if people knew it was a fake marriage, what was the point of discussing it now?

In a way, he was glad he visited. No matter what outsiders guessed, as long as they insisted it was real, there would be no scandal. And given how “sticky” they were currently, anyone seeing them would surely doubt the rumors.

Ye Huai worked until 6:00 AM. Yuan Xingzhou took over for Xiao Lü, staying by his side and napping occasionally. By the end, Ye Huai was visibly exhausted. He hadn’t slept for thirty hours and had spent the latter half of the night in a wire harness.

Yuan’s eyes reddened with sympathy. When he urged him this time, Ye Huai finally agreed to use a double. Xiao Tie looked like he’d received a royal pardon and rushed to coordinate.

Back at the hotel, Ye Huai took a quick shower and crashed. Yuan, seeing his exhaustion, helped him undress, only to find bruises all over his back and shoulders.

“It’s nothing…” Ye Huai mumbled into his pillow. “Everyone’s the same…” He patted the space next to him. “Come sleep.”

Ye Huai was picky; he never let assistants into his bedroom, let alone let them apply medicine. Yuan went to get medicinal oil from Xiao Lü and massaged it into the bruised areas. At first, Ye Huai’s muscles tensed in pain, but he soon relaxed.

Once the bruises were treated and his limbs massaged, the room smelled strongly of medicinal oil. Yuan set the bottle aside, slipped out of his clothes, and slid under the covers.

Ye Huai was dead to the world. Yuan carefully turned him onto his side so they were face-to-face.

The day felt like a dream. Yuan thought Ye Huai was the beautiful son of a god, and he was the water nymph—falling at first sight and burying it deep. All that “Huai-Zhou” shipping… who knew it wasn’t just his own prayer to the gods?

And now, Ye Huai was truly bound to him.

Drowsiness finally won. Yuan leaned in, pressed a kiss to the corner of Ye Huai’s mouth, and fell asleep holding his hand, utterly content.