The sudden vibration of the phone broke the floating ambiguity in the air.

Li Baixi cleared his throat, glanced at the screen, and lazily answered, “You have sixty seconds to speak.”

“Master!!!” Ma Koukou wailed on the other end, “I fear today might be the end of me!”

Li Baixi: “?”

Ma Koukou: “They just announced a last-minute change of judges right before the shoot. Guess who it is?”

Li Baixi frowned: “My good junior brother?”

Ma Koukou sobbed: “Is this fate? He’s definitely going to give me zero points and eliminate me in one round! And if he humiliates me, people will say you failed as a teacher…”

Li Baixi, annoyed by his crying, said, “Just withdraw from the competition then.”

“Why should I withdraw?” someone interjected.

Ma Koukou choked mid-cry.

Cheng Ping leaned towards the phone: “He’s not the only judge. If his scoring is unreasonable, he will be questioned. Why are you scared? Just confront him!”

Ma Koukou: “…”

Ma Koukou cautiously said, “Brother Cheng… are you two in the same room?”

Cheng Ping: “.”

Cheng Ping was about to explain, but Ma Koukou cried louder: “It’s all because of this stupid show that I’ve missed out on eighty chapters of your gossip! Here I am struggling, and your kid is already in college!”

Cheng Ping’s ears turned slightly red as he glanced at Li Baixi.

Ma Koukou: “Is this even a life worth living? This is a dog’s life…”

Li Baixi rolled his eyes: “It’s been over a hundred seconds. Goodbye.”

“Wait, wait,” Ma Koukou quickly gathered himself, “Should I still compete?”

Li Baixi: “If you want to compete, then compete. You’re my apprentice, what are you afraid of?”

Ma Koukou pondered his words, still unsure, and tried to confirm, “Um, as they say, once a teacher, always a mother. You have to stand up for me…”

Li Baixi wasn’t falling for it: “Rely on yourself first.”

Before Ma Koukou could start crying again, Li Baixi hung up the phone, sighing, “It’s like raising a child, really.”

Cheng Ping, hearing his tone, knew Li Baixi wouldn’t really stand by idly. If Ma Koukou was bullied, he would definitely step in.

Such a scoring dispute would inevitably involve a professional showdown. Cheng Ping remembered that Li Baixi seemed to have some unspoken psychological shadows in this regard.

Cheng Ping: “Are you going to confront your junior brother?”

Li Baixi smiled at him: “You said it, just confront him.”

Cheng Ping worried he was forcing himself: “…No need to rush, if you can’t…”

Li Baixi: “?”

Li Baixi immediately straightened up: “Xiao Cheng, a man can’t say he can’t.”

Cheng Ping: “?”

Why are you suddenly being so manly?

Li Baixi: “Besides, we’re already on the road to confronting him. He’s planning to compete for the Best Costume Design award this year, and I happen to have the same intention, just waiting for you to pass the audition tomorrow.”

Cheng Ping knew he was trying to encourage him but was still stirred by his use of “we.”

At this moment, Li Baixi raised his hand, sliding his palm gently across Cheng Ping’s face: “If you’re my partner, I have this confidence.”

Cheng Ping’s slight itch turned into a more tangible sensory experience, as his skin tingled along the path of Li Baixi’s palm, like a feather lightly brushing.

They stared at each other, neither speaking.

The air between them thickened with urgency. Any longer, and something was bound to happen.

Suddenly, Cheng Ping casually stepped back, then turned to the bathroom, muttering, “Excuse me.”

This isn’t stage fright, I’m not stage frightened, he told himself. It’s just to avoid affecting the audition tomorrow morning.

Li Baixi watched his somewhat flustered back, silently retracting his hand, and smiled helplessly.

Weren’t you the one knocking on my door?

The phone on the table vibrated again, this time with a voice message from Yang, the assistant.

Li Baixi glanced at it, assuming it was about tomorrow’s schedule, and casually played it.

Years later, Li Baixi would often mentally travel back to this night to beat himself up for playing that voice message out loud.

Yang’s voice echoed in the room: “Master, I’ve thought about this for a long time and have to risk my life to talk to you. If I remember correctly, the last time you told me about your orientation…”

Li Baixi, initially distracted, suddenly reached to stop the message, but in his haste, knocked the phone off the table.

The phone fell to the floor, the voice message still playing: “…you said you were straight. I have no right to comment on your relationship with Brother Cheng, but if that’s true, isn’t it unfair to him…”

Li Baixi finally shut off the message.

The room fell into a dead silence, only his rapid breathing could be heard.

He had indeed told Yang this. It was long ago when he had some interest in her. But when you had no feelings, it was over. He had completely forgotten about it.

How could he have forgotten?

A few seconds later, he returned to himself and realized the sound of running water from the bathroom.

But when the water started and how much Cheng Ping heard, he didn’t know.

The water soon stopped, and Cheng Ping emerged, water droplets still on his hands.

He walked over, picked up the script, and said calmly, “The audition is important. I’ll go back and review the lines with the tutor again. See you tomorrow.”

Li Baixi tried to read his expression, but Cheng Ping didn’t give him the chance and quickly turned to leave.

Li Baixi: “…”

Li Baixi furiously typed on his phone: “Couldn’t you talk face-to-face???”

Yang, confused, replied: “Such an awkward thing is better not said face-to-face. I hesitated for half a century before sending that voice message, fearing I’d lose my job.”

Li Baixi: “…”

Yang: “But I remembered a saying.”

Li Baixi: “…”

Yang: “Do you want to be a coward for a lifetime or a hero for three seconds?”

Li Baixi: “…”

The next morning, Cheng Ping’s expression remained calm.

This calmness itself was abnormal.

He said nothing while doing makeup. Li Baixi tried to start a conversation several times, but Cheng Ping only answered with a few words.

Li Baixi thought: It’s over.

Cheng Ping must have heard it last night. Maybe he was just too nervous? Maybe he’ll be fine after the audition?

Clinging to this hope, Li Baixi didn’t bring it up, knowing now wasn’t the right time.

He focused on the makeup. Although the character was mixed-race, he didn’t overly emphasize the mixed-race look. Cheng Ping’s facial structure was already defined enough, and over-contouring would be too much. Instead, he focused on making him look younger.

He carefully brightened areas like the cheekbones and sides of the nose, softened his slightly aggressive eye shape, and gradually revealed a slender, melancholic young man.

Li Baixi had seen the audition scene and roughly knew what kind of look was needed.

Yang, the assistant, busied herself around them, serving coffee and breakfast.

Last night, after Li Baixi, in his anger, explained everything to her, Yang realized the mess her heroism had caused. Whether she could keep her job… probably depended on Cheng Ping’s mood today.

Thinking about this, she tried harder: “Brother Cheng, the makeup looks great. You’ll definitely nail it.”

Cheng Ping: “…Thanks.”

They arrived at the audition room on time.

The director warmly greeted Li Baixi, praised Cheng Ping’s looks, and Cheng Ping, understanding only partially, nervously replied with a simple “Thank you.”

But just as feared, the assistant director started bombarding Cheng Ping with questions: “When did you fly in? How’s the jet lag? How was the traffic this morning? No jams, right?”

Cheng Ping: “…”

Cheng Ping stiffly searched his vocabulary, stumbling through a few answers.

Seeing his struggle, the director waved: “If you’re ready, let’s begin.”

The assistant director, still probing, guided Cheng Ping to his spot, continuing, “What do you think of the script? How do you understand Hiro’s character?”

Cheng Ping had prepared this with his tutor and recited his rehearsed answer: “Hiro is not the type to express emotions well, but I think his quietness actually contains rich emotional changes…”

Assistant director: “Like what kind of emotions?”

Cheng Ping: “…Sadness and… um…”

He wanted to say “infatuation.”

But he didn’t know how.

Li Baixi cleared his throat beside him: “Director, may I act as a translator?”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary.” The assistant director smiled slightly, clearly not meaning well, “Let’s see your performance.”

Li Baixi frowned at him.

The assistant director, of Korean descent, had figured out the director’s connections for the project and knew its significance, promptly recommending a familiar Korean actor. But the director, after seeing the performance, remained noncommittal.

After the actor left, the director confided, “He’s the best fit so far, but still not quite what I envision.”

So, the assistant director, sensing a threat from Cheng Ping’s appearance, decided to expose his weak English, hoping to disrupt his mindset before the performance.

Cheng Ping indeed stood stiffly, though whether his mindset was disrupted was unclear.

Director: “Begin.”

Cheng Ping closed his eyes, then slowly sat down.

The room had a table and two chairs prepared, with a plastic model on the opposite chair as the painter.

In the script, Hiro’s mother died from poverty and illness. The painter helped bury her and took Hiro to a tavern to drown his sorrows.

Cheng Ping lifted the empty wine glass on the table, mimicked drinking, then violently coughed.

A staff member read the painter’s lines: “You don’t drink?”

Cheng Ping shook his head while coughing, saying intermittently, “Not often.”

The director watched with interest. This person seemed to know how to act.

Cheng Ping put down the glass, lightly playing with the stem: “Before she got sick, she was a beauty. They said if I inherited half her beauty, it would be good.”

The assistant director exaggeratedly glanced at the director, trying to convey: His English is terrible.

Staff member: “You are beautiful. But I believe she was beautiful too.”

Cheng Ping leaned back in the chair, showing a bit of drunkenness, looking both bewildered and innocent.

“A painter, your colleague, once showed me a copy of an ukiyo-e painting, ‘Nine Phases of Ono no Komachi,’ depicting the process of a beauty’s corpse decaying to bare bones. My father’s compatriots are strange people. They say this is to show that the flesh is an illusion, not to be overly attached to the mundane world.”

The assistant director’s face was blank.

But Li Baixi quietly smiled.

This monologue was long and convoluted. The first time Cheng Ping read it, he stuttered at nearly every word.

Now, look at him.

The long lines diminished the dissonance caused by his accent, highlighting other details: the inflection and pauses in his voice, subtle body language, and eye movements at each point.

His despair wasn’t a storm but a slow seeping cold mist, weaving an unseen net that tightened around both himself and the other.

Staff member: “That’s a good thing, right? It means the deceased is no longer there, and their soul has gone to heaven.”

Cheng Ping looked up, staring at the blank face of the plastic model, his gaze seemingly piercing through it into the unknown.

He almost tenderly and softly asked, “But I already know love is fake, and truth is also fake. If even beauty is fake, then what is real?”

Out of nowhere, tears streamed down his face.

Compared to the cryptic, fragile inner monologue, these tears were so honest, washing away the haze with a clear plea: See me, love me, even if just for a moment.

He lowered his head, burying his face in his hands, muttering incoherently, “Sir… Sir!”

No one spoke on set. Everyone waited for the director’s instructions.

The director led the applause.

It grew louder, and Cheng Ping took it as a signal to stop, hastily wiping his tears and standing to bow.

Director: “Very good, very good, please go back and wait for our news. Let’s look forward to some good news together.”

He almost pulled out a contract on the spot.

The assistant director forced a smile, jokingly saying, “Looks like we’ll need more translators.”

“What’s wrong with that assistant director?” Yang asked as soon as they left the set.

Li Baixi: “Some shady deal behind the scenes, probably.”

Yang flattered stiffly: “Good thing Brother Cheng spoke with his skills and slapped his face.”

Li Baixi: “…” You’re really set on being a coward for the rest of your life after being a three-second hero?

Cheng Ping smiled faintly: “Still a long way to go.”

Li Baixi thought: It’s really over.

He signaled to Yang: “It’s lunchtime. Let me treat you to a meal to celebrate the successful audition.”

Yang obediently turned away: “You two enjoy. I have a meal date with a friend. See you later.”

Li Baixi chose a Japanese restaurant, the only place nearby with private rooms, separated by curtains to ensure some privacy.

At least Cheng Ping agreed to dine with him, which was a good sign.

Li Baixi ordered two bottles of sake, intending to drink to muster the courage to speak.

A few cups in, feeling the warmth rise, he was about ready to speak. But Cheng Ping spoke first: “I’ll treat this meal to thank you for giving me the opportunity to compete for the role.”

Li Baixi: “…Let’s set that aside. Xiao Cheng, about last night…”

“Are you straight?”

“…”

Cheng Ping stared at him intently, his cheeks flushed from the drink, but his gaze was fierce.

Li Baixi bitterly smiled.

Fate, this is fate. All the deceit and pretense over the years, today is finally the day to pay the price.

Li Baixi resigned himself: “I used to be.”

Cheng Ping: “Used to be?”

Li Baixi: “Not anymore.”

Cheng Ping: “Why?”

Li Baixi suddenly felt not drunk enough.

He downed another cup: “I was turned.”

Cheng Ping still stared at him: “By me? Am I that powerful?”

Li Baixi gave up: “Baby, you have no idea of your power.”

Cheng Ping tried with all his might to believe.

In fact, if not for the voice message last night revealing the truth, he could continue to believe, to believe Li Baixi was gay, to believe the affection was real.

Because, if he didn’t believe, his life would be too ridiculous.

Cheng Ping suddenly recalled his former team captain’s sarcastic remark: Don’t say I’m being dishonest, you harassing a straight guy is honest?

He hadn’t.

Last time he hadn’t harassed anyone, this time…

“This time, you intentionally deceived me.”

Li Baixi was desperate: “I did lie before, but I’m not lying now. Really, tell me a way, let me prove…”

The end of his sentence was cut off by shock.

Cheng Ping suddenly stood up, half his body leaning over the table, grabbed his collar, and kissed him forcefully.

Someone’s tongue got cut, the taste of blood mingling with the alcohol in their mouths.

Li Baixi’s scalp tingled. Just as he adapted to this hostile rhythm and tried to turn it into something tender, Cheng Ping let go.

Cheng Ping looked down, scrutinizing his calm and undisturbed dick, a hint of self-mockery in his eyes.

Li Baixi: “…”

Li Baixi: “Give me another chance.”