Stop Flirting, I Can't Take It - Chapter 3

Yan Qi’s eyes were long and narrow with deep, tight double eyelids. His pupils were ink-black; when he narrowed them, a touch of evil would reveal itself. Coupled with his firm, smooth facial contours, a high nose, and thin lips, he exuded strong aggression and invasiveness when he kept a straight face.

Song Xueyan was forced to lift his chin, his Adam’s apple rolling cautiously.

Yan Qi’s fingertips were calloused; they weren’t soft when they brushed against skin, but rather had a rough, warm texture. Song Xueyan lowered his eyes and saw the veins on Yan Qi’s wrist. They were exceptionally vibrant, and being so close, he felt he could almost hear their pulse.

For some reason, Song Xueyan suddenly lifted his eyes, revealing a hint of meaning in his gaze that Yan Qi couldn’t understand. Yan Qi was stunned and just as he was about to withdraw his hand, he felt Song Xueyan’s lower lip brush against the pad of his finger as it parted.

The light, hot breath sprayed onto his fingertip, and a wave of numbness instantly rushed from Yan Qi’s finger to his brain, scaring him into taking three steps back.

“F***!”

Yan Qi hugged his thumb, as if shielding his “purity” from a sudden assault.

Song Xueyan was confused. “F*** who?”

Fang Zhouji said at the opportune moment, “Perhaps that was just a filler word full of emotion.”

Yan Qi placed both hands in front of him, at a loss. The cold jade ring pressed against his chest suddenly felt scorching hot, and the row of deep red “beasts” on the fabric of his shirt seemed to sprout fire too, all causing mischief, burning him with thirst and an itchy throat even under the air conditioning.

Song Xueyan was still sitting up, leaning on the bed. His waist under the clothing revealed a resilient and slender arc, and his legs rested naturally against the foot of the bed. It was a posture that left him wide open, yet he maintained that cold, calm expression and tone.

Yan Qi had originally been the one looking down from above, but he was startled to realize he had become an untamed beast, producing a malicious desire to oppress someone in that instant.

Silence fermented. Fire grew, making a hissing sound the moment it touched Song Xueyan; it rolled around, then leaned in, insisting on winning or losing against him.

Fang Zhouji looked at the lens, suddenly exhaled, and clapped his hands. “Who is on top and who is on the bottom, anyway?”

After two seconds, Song Xueyan finally moved his gaze from Yan Qi’s face. “Don’t say such strange things.”

“I mean,” Fang Zhouji said, excited, “who is pressing whom?”

Yan Qi reached out to press down on the ring and the English letters on his chest, taking the opportunity to warn his suddenly epileptic heart. “That sounds even stranger.”

“The strangest things are the most intriguing.” Fang Zhouji looked at Yan Qi, smiling kindly. “Little Yan, I’ll send you the complete script and some plan arrangements later. Prepare yourself; you’ll be entering the crew very soon.”

Yan Qi didn’t understand how it had ended so suddenly, but once Fang Zhouji said this, it meant he had passed the test. He exhaled, wiped the fine sweat from his forehead with a feigned natural air, and said, “I will prepare seriously. Thank you, Director Fang.”

He paused and turned to Song Xueyan. “Thank you, Teacher Song.”

Song Xueyan had already stood up and was lowering his head to tidy the fabric around his waist. Hearing this, he looked at him, very coldly. “It’s only right. Goodbye.”

“Uh…” Yan Qi felt as if a ball of cotton had inexplicably entered his throat, attempting to choke him in the softest way possible.

“Good—bye!”

He didn’t want to look at Song Xueyan for another second. His pace when he left was urgent and fast, feeling rather like a desperate escape.

Song Xueyan stood where he was, watching as Yan Qi’s feet almost seemed to pedal wheels of fire. The black socks wrapped around his ankles, revealing well-proportioned calves as he moved upward.

The door opened and closed. Song Xueyan didn’t move until Fang Zhouji coughed, at which point he finally withdrew his gaze.

Fang Zhouji packed up the camera. “I didn’t ask you before about your reason for taking this drama, but I was actually very curious. But now, I understand everything.”

Ascending the White Jade Steps was a great project. Fang Zhouji directed, He Songyun was both the original author and screenwriter, the teams were all Fang Zhouji’s go-to choices, and the investor, Yaoguang Entertainment, was a leading company backed by the Zongchen Group—funds and connections went without saying.

When the rumors of the casting first broke, actors coming to grab the roles were like dumplings dropped into a pot at a cafeteria, exploding in a chaotic mess.

But no matter how good the project was, it didn’t align with Song Xueyan’s route.

Since entering the circle, Song Xueyan had played the leads in five realistic dramas, three villains, and several cameos. The characters he played could get together to hold a lively “misery competition”; the ways they were abused and the ways they died each had their own brand of brilliance.

A group of fans and netizens had been tortured to tears. Two years ago, they had gone to Fang Zhouji’s Weibo to beg him to kidnap Song Xueyan to a romance drama set, just so he could be sweet for once.

Fang Zhouji knew Song Xueyan didn’t like sticky stuff, so he considerately stepped back: How about we act in a “you-die-I-live” tragic script?

Some directors came upon hearing the news, offering their own dramas, but Song Xueyan rejected them one by one and unfollowed Fang Zhouji on Weibo to show his stance. It wasn’t until Fang Zhouji wrote a 2,000-word letter of repentance by hand that he prissily refollowed him.

As time went on, no one sent Song Xueyan such scripts anymore, and roles with even a hint of a romantic plot didn’t seek him out. Therefore, audiences had yet to see Song Xueyan fall in love on screen.

For someone like him to suddenly take on a dual-male-lead drama with a clear romantic plot—the level of shock was comparable to a long-time frequenter of flower houses suddenly transforming into a secret royal illegitimate child who had been planning a coup for years while remaining pure.

Let alone the common people, even his father was stunned!

Furthermore, a year ago, Song Xueyan had taken all the remuneration he had earned since his debut to resolutely terminate his contract with Huaying Media, causing a massive uproar, and the discussions had not yet subsided.

Huaying Media was a deeply rooted giant, yet they were unilaterally dumped by their cash cow. Regardless of whether it was for profit or face, it had the potential to become an obstacle on Song Xueyan’s career path. Now, Song Xueyan had taken a drama he should have rejected. With a little thought, fans and netizens immediately staged a 68-episode large-scale social workplace drama: “Capital Strikes Hard, Freelance Worker Forcefully Kneels.”

“Those microscopes, prophets, and logic masters on the internet… this time, not a single one guessed it right.” Fang Zhouji laughed. Although, as an insider, he wouldn’t engage in wild guesses, he hadn’t expected the reason to be this.

Song Xueyan walked to the window and leaned down to look. Only when he saw the city lights did he realize this was the 90-something-th floor. His delicate eyebrows tightened slightly, as if unsatisfied, as if longing.

“You guessed it right?”

Fang Zhouji clicked his tongue. “Damn, I was shocked.”

Even if he were hung upside down and spun like an electric fan, he wouldn’t have thought that Song Xueyan was secretly watching someone. Is this what you call a secret crush?

It looked like Little Yan didn’t know him yet. How cowardly must this love be!

“The first time I saw Little Yan was at the shooting range—the day you asked me to go get something at the shooting hall, remember? I originally planned to leave after getting the things, but I stood outside the shooting range for nearly half an hour because I was attracted by him.”

Fang Zhouji picked up his bag and looked toward the window. “This young man’s physical proportions are truly good: tall and lean, with long limbs. When he shot, he exposed his arms; his muscle lines weren’t exaggerated but were just right. He was the focus just by standing there.”

Song Xueyan looked out the window stubbornly. “He is very impressive.”

Fang Zhouji admired, “His aura when shooting was very strong, completely different from the dull look he had when you were teasing him just now. He was sharp, arrogant, and had everything in his grasp. I instantly thought of Ming Yanzhao from the script—both are heaven’s favorites, in high spirits.”

Song Xueyan’s tone lifted slightly. “That is just one of his skills. You will understand him better in the future.”

Your tone is so excited!

Although Fang Zhouji was itching with curiosity, he didn’t continue to ask. Having known Song Xueyan for many years, he knew deeply that the other party did not like being probed.

Who knew Song Xueyan would take the initiative to say: “We knew each other in our past life. This life is a continuation of our fate.”

“Oh.” Fang Zhouji gave a thumbs up. “You can be the screenwriter for the next drama.”

“Really.” Song Xueyan’s tone was serious. “You are the director, and you have written scripts and been a screenwriter before; you should have more creativity and imagination.”

Fang Zhouji said expressionlessly, “If what you are saying is true, I must have seen a ghost.”

Song Xueyan wanted to say something else, but was ruthlessly interrupted by Fang Zhouji. “Go home!”

After entering the elevator, Song Xueyan refused to give up. “Actually, at this point in my past life, I was already dead, and he hadn’t been discovered by you yet. In this life, I want to be more proactive, so—”

“So you did it on purpose?” Fang Zhouji realized belatedly. “You intentionally asked me to go to the shooting hall that day!”

Song Xueyan didn’t speak, looking a bit unhappy at being interrupted while “sharing a story.”

“I thought so! A local courier could have solved it, but you insisted on forcing me to run there personally in the sweltering heat, and urged me three times along the way. Turns out you were just intentionally sending me over so I would discover Little Yan, weren’t you?”

Fang Zhouji clapped his hands, nearly unable to believe it. “You actually went to such lengths just to act with your crush. You are truly dedicated.”

Song Xueyan didn’t feel guilty at all, saying firmly: “His appearance and temperament are indeed very suitable, which is why he attracted you. He performed very well during the casting, which is why you and Screenwriter He chose him. You should thank me for recommending the perfect candidate, otherwise this drama wouldn’t have started filming because you couldn’t find anyone more suitable for Ming Yanzhao than him, and neither you nor He would have chosen to settle.”

When Fang Zhouji first met Song Xueyan, the other party was a freshman. Nearly eight years had passed, and it was the first time he had heard Song Xueyan praise someone so eloquently.

Love is truly fucking magical.

Fang Zhouji rubbed the black bag hanging on his shoulder, his gaze wandering over Song Xueyan’s face. “Yan Qi is so great, so handsome, so cool! May I ask a question?”

Song Xueyan acted as if he were the one being praised and said with a gesture of indulgence: “Speak.”

“May I ask: He doesn’t even know you, so how were you so sure he would agree to act in my drama?” Fang Zhouji recalled Yan Qi’s resume. “He studied economics in college, you know.”

The second before the elevator door opened, Song Xueyan lifted his eyes to look at the “1” on the display, his tone slightly haughty.

“Because I am his most intimate internet friend—the only one.”

The Cayenne stopped at a red light. Feng Zhui glanced at the rearview mirror, finding Yan Qi still looking dazed, and couldn’t help but say: “Still immersed in the joy? We’ve all seen big scenes—okay, I’m truly fucking happy. This time it’s completely finalized.”

“It really is just a persona.” Yan Qi murmured in a low voice, “It really is!”

Feng Zhui was confused. “What persona? Oh, you still think Song Xueyan doesn’t look as good as his fans say? Let me tell you, young master, having high standards is a good thing, but this is obviously you being biased against Song Xueyan.”

Yan Qi suddenly lifted his head, leaning over the front seat, which gave Feng Zhui a start. He asked: “Do you know how Song Xueyan’s fans describe him?”

“I know.” Feng Zhui recited two lines effortlessly and added, “You think it’s too exaggerated, right?”

Yan Qi said: “No, I think it’s very realistic, even somewhat conservative.”

Feng Zhui: “Huh?”

“It should be said that there are no adjectives better to describe how good-looking he is.” Yan Qi didn’t want to praise Song Xueyan, but he couldn’t betray his own aesthetic judgment, so he sounded fierce, not sounding like he was saying anything good at all.

Before Feng Zhui could react, he considered it and changed his wording: “All the adjectives in the world combined are insults to him.”

Feng Zhui felt that Yan Qi at this moment was truly terrifying, and couldn’t help asking: “Then may I ask where his persona collapsed?”

“Cold, immortal!” Yan Qi’s tone turned urgent. “He’s not, he’s not!”

Feng Zhui parroted: “Ah, then what is he?”

“He is very, very…” Yan Qi clapped his hands suddenly, “He is very seductive, you know?”

“If I knew, would I be in this state?” Feng Zhui guessed for a long time and finally chose a more conservative guess: “Did Director Fang make you try a bed scene? The kind that doesn’t require taking off clothes?”

Yan Qi was unhappy. “Be serious!”

“Okay.” Feng Zhui said seriously, “I know! A kiss scene, the kind that creates strings of saliva?”

Yan Qi was stern. “How dirty!”

“I’m sorry, I was presumptuous.” Feng Zhui said cautiously, “So how exactly was he seductive?”

Without taking off clothes, without using tongues, could he create a tsunami of seductiveness?

“He touched me! And hooked my belt! Do you know that? He hooked it just like that… well, those aren’t the most important things. Do you know what the most important thing is?”

Seeing Feng Zhui shake his head like a rattle, Yan Qi waved his hands and gestured urgently. “It’s his eyes! The charm at the corners of his eyes is a heart-stabbing knife, can you understand that?”

Feng Zhui nodded. “I can!”

You have indeed suddenly become mentally handicapped.

Yan Qi slapped the back of the seat fiercely. “He also sprayed his breath onto my finger. What’s the difference between that and kissing?”

That’s it?! I thought it was a tsunami, but it turned out to be a mushroom entering a pond; not even a ripple.

Feng Zhui was weary. “Have you ever thought that there might actually be someone more seductive around you, like that little heart-throb at your brother’s place?”

“You mean Brother Yanle?” Yan Qi was full of righteousness. “I’m not my brother. Even if he were to seduce his way through the atmosphere and bounce back a shockwave, I wouldn’t know.”

Feng Zhui thought: Fu Yanle is quite seductive when he goes on interviews and variety shows; you just never paid attention to him!

He didn’t dare to say that Yan Qi was a little chicken who hadn’t seen the world, but he couldn’t stop the worry in his heart. “What should we do when we really film the intimate scenes? What if we keep having NGs and end up being scolded to death by Director Fang and Song Xueyan? Why don’t you go practice before filming starts?”

“Can we practice in advance?” Yan Qi’s complexion was a bit unnatural, rarely reserved. “Will Song Xueyan agree? Wouldn’t it be too much trouble for him?”

“Your imagination is beautiful—no, it’s truly too idealistic! I fucking…” Feng Zhui swallowed that rebellious word, “I mean find a performance teacher to practice. There are some in the company; I’ll find you the best one!”

Yan Qi immediately lost interest and said with disgust: “I’m not practicing.”

“Then what should we do?” Feng Zhui took a drink of iced peppermint water to calm himself. “Otherwise, I’ll find someone to make you a fake Song Xueyan, as close to the real person as possible, and you can hold it and look at it every day?”

“That’s too perverted. What’s the difference between that and sexual fantasy?” Yan Qi shifted his anger. “What kind of terrible idea is that? I’m speechless.”

Feng Zhui stepped on the accelerator, letting his heart and the wheels leave together with a “whoosh.”

“No, I have to seek help from someone 100% reliable.” Yan Qi took out his phone, clicked on a chat box on his WeChat homepage, and sent several voice messages.

Feng Zhui listened expressionlessly as he repeated “What should I do?” eight times in a total voice duration of nearly three minutes. Only after he quieted down did he ask: “May I ask if this reliable person is President Yu?”

“My brother doesn’t have time to deal with me.” Yan Qi held his phone with both hands, staring straight at the screen for movement, his eyes full of hope. “It’s my most intimate internet friend.”

Feng Zhui: ??

Three minutes later, Yan Qi received a reply from the other party.

Sui Qiong: “You can try interacting with him for a period of time to get familiar, yeah.”

Yan Qi hurriedly followed up: “How do I interact?”

Sui Qiong replied almost in seconds: [For example, living together (fighting emoji)]

Yan Qi: ?!