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The room is dark, the first rays of the rising sun not quite breaching the barrier of half-drawn curtains. Xiao Zhan blinks once, twice, then again. The afterimages are fading with every second, but he can still almost see something red out of the corner of his eye. Another blink. Even that is gone now.
He checks his phone. It’s only 6:28, he still has an hour and a half before the driver gets here. Xiao Zhan groans and smushes his face into the pillow. His heart is still speeding, apparently not getting that the dream is over. He would be a bit concerned, but it’s far from the first time he wakes up this freaked out over something he has no recollection of. It’s not surprising, really, with how stressed he’s been lately. It’ll probably get worse, considering what the next couple of weeks are shaping up to be.
There’s no sense in lazing around and working himself up, though. Xiao Zhan gets up and heads to the bathroom. It’s a quick affair that lets him shake the night off completely. As he dresses he ponders the merits of having a real breakfast. By the time the kettle signals its readiness, he’s more or less resigned to getting by on 3+2 crackers. He really can’t afford to be anything less than his best today. His mom would yell at him, but he’s far from Chongqing, and no one here in Beijing is quite annoying enough to nag him about bad eating habits.
Speaking of which. There’s an unread message from his mom. He opens WeChat.
Don’t forget to dress warmly, Zhanzhan, it’s still winter, it must be freezing up north. I don’t want to hear about you catching a cold!
Xiao Zhan rolls his eyes and smiles. He takes a selfie with a tea mug, making sure the steam is visible on the photo.
I keep myself warm. And it barely even counts as winter, ma, so stop worrying so much!
He’ll probably receive a new batch of Chinese medicine soon anyway. Really, she goes overboard sometimes. Xiao Zhan takes a quick look at his phone screen - February 27th, basically spring already.
It’s another forty minutes until the car gets here, so he takes a moment to get over his schedule. Today’s photoshoot is important. Once Douluo Continent airs next week, the photos are going to be released too, as well as the interviews he’s about to film in the next couple of days. Then there’s the Tian Tian Xiang Shang appearance in two weeks, a press conference, some auditions and a few endorsement shoots and other commitments. Not the busiest of schedules, but all in all pretty good. Douluo Continent is a big project, Xiao Zhan is lucky to have a part in it. He couldn’t have asked for more. Really.
He smiles and rests his head on the wall. The kitchen is full of sunlight, the rays golden and joyful where they drape over his outstretched legs. It’s a quiet morning, content, in a way. It’s nice to have something like this before the chaos of the day descends upon him. It allows him to focus, to remember why today - every day - is important.
Something keeps buzzing just at the edge of his thoughts, though. Like the warmth of sun-drenched wood by a lake you are about to dive into. Like the blooming of a hundred lotus flowers. Like the summer laughter that’s about to burst out of your chest. Like knowing you are the best and not being afraid to show it to the whole world. Like—
Xiao Zhan opens his eyes to a message from the driver blinking on the phone screen. Did he fall asleep? He should really do something about all these half-sleepless nights. Well, it doesn’t matter right now. The day is about to start, and Xiao Zhan always, always gives his one hundred percent. He is not about to start failing now.
***
The photoshoot is spectacular. It all bold and edgy colours, a mix of modern design with period mystery. Xiao Zhan can see how this is calculated to gain the audience’s favour, especially with how the main photographer keeps reminding Wu Xuanyi and Li Xian to smoulder at each other. He snickers, but quickly checks himself. He’ll be doing his share of smouldering very soon. It still feels very silly to him, but he has to admit that editors somehow always make it work in the end.
Someone keeps fussing with his fake ponytail when Wu Xianyi, finally given a reprieve, sits down in the chair next to him with a tired sigh.
“Long morning?”
“You have no idea. We’ve been here since six,” she shakes her head and smiles, “Worth it, though.”
“I bet. Really, is it hot in here or is it just you two?” Xiao Zhan laughs at at her rolling her eyes. In the next moment, however, the eye-roll turns into an innocent, wide-open stare.
“Xiao-laoshi, I can’t wait for you to go in there and show us how it’s really done!”
Right then, an assistant comes running with the message that they are ready for him. He thanks her and bows deeply to Wu Xuanyi with a cheeky grin.
“Well, I guess I won’t have to keep you waiting too long.”
Xiao Zhan does some individual shots that, yeah, okay, contain a fair amount of smouldering. They don’t spend as much time on him as they do on Wu Xuanyi and Li Xian, for obvious reasons, but he still does his best to get into Dai Mubai’s headspace. It’s a different kind of acting, but he prefers to be at least partially in character even during a photoshoot, he’s learned quite a while ago that it helps with both the process and the end result. He does spot Wu Xuanyi and the rest of the guys giving him thumbs up, which makes him break character for a second.
He gets to rest for a bit during Yu Xiaogang and Hu Liena’s turns and then they do group shots, and that takes a couple more hours. By the time the photographer is done with them, it’s getting closer to four o’clock and Xiao Zhan is maybe starting to regret his choice of breakfast crackers and lunch protein bars. Looking at Li Xian and Wu Xuanyi though, he thinks that it could be much worse. There are always draw-backs to being the main stars of the show, and working since before dawn is one of them.
Xiao Zhan is not one to bemoan his fate. He doesn’t dwell on the fact that it was almost him who was going to be at this photoshoot at six o’clock sharp. He auditioned for Tang San, and the producers loved him. It’s just that in the end he didn’t have enough star power to get the main role, so they got him to try for Dai Mubai and that was that.
And it was fine. Xiao Zhan vowed to be the best Dai Mubai there could be, and he’s done just that. He is proud of the way his character came out, of the job he’s done, of this whole project. This is, he sincerely believes, what matters the most. And as far as his ambitions go, Douluo is going to be big, so chances are he will get more recognition and more roles. That’s enough.
He’s especially grateful for his average amount of fame when the photoshoot ends and he’s able to walk into his favourite noodle shop with just a face mask on. He has friends in the industry who can’t go outside without fans swarming them. It’s honestly terrifying, and Xiao Zhan is not sure how he would be able to handle something like that. His own fanbase is decent in size, enough for his Chongqing friends to have quality mocking material, but it’s not the millions that make an actor’s or an idol’s life too difficult. Or get them a leading role in a drama.
He gets home with a well-deserved early dinner — a small, small portion of it — and makes himself comfortable on the couch scrolling through Weibo. He likes a few things, comments on Darren Wang’s post with a cat meme, checks out the hot search. There are the usual suspects, with Street Dance of China 3 suddenly residing in second place, which gets him inordinately excited. Weird. Xiao Zhan checks it out and finds out that, along with Wang Jiaer, Wang Yibo and Wallace Chung, Zhang Yixing is going to star in the new season. Huh, he must have heard about this somewhere before. Apparently his inner EXO-L is more alive than he thought. Well, if a show about street dance can be on hot search, Xiao Zhan sees no reason for Douluo to not be up there next week.
His work for today isn’t done yet, as his manager reminds him with a text. He’s got a few scripts to review, preferably settling on one this very evening. With The Wolf getting decent ratings and a drama or two that came after, Xiao Zhan is at a point where he actually has a say in his projects. That’s a very satisfying thought.
Two scripts and five hours later he resurfaces, finally noticing that his back is killing him and his eyes are screaming to get the contacts out. That satisfaction is nowhere to be found, too. He tries to understand why none of the scripts have made an impression as he gets into the shower, washes his hair and dries off, as he brushes his teeth and does the skin care routine.
Having forgotten his glasses in the bedroom, Xiao Zhan squints at the mirror and, with everything blurry and still fogged from the shower, sees someone else in there. Not in a creepy way, it’s just that his features become less familiar for a second. Maybe his face is thinner. Maybe his eyes curve a little differently or lips form a shape that’s not completely natural to him. Whatever it is, it’s gone in a blink.
Well then, it’s officially time to go to sleep.
When Xiao Zhan sets the alarm for tomorrow and gets into bed, he sleepily thinks he understands why the scripts from today — and yesterday, and last week — felt so off. The roles haven’t sparked anything in him. Maybe he’s getting spoiled, but Xiao Zhan wants a role that’s wholly his. He wants a character that challenges him as an actor, inspires him as a human being seeking understanding through art. A character that sucks every single drop out of him and fills him up in return. He wants a role that takes him to the very edge and then blasts right through it, changes him and the viewers and the world, even, makes an undeniable impact. Xiao Zhan didn’t leave a promising job and a stable life for anything less.
Just as his eyes close from exhaustion, he sees a flash of red again and thinks this is what I want.
***
Four days later he is at Sina for an interview when he hears an abrupt Xiao Zhan! in a familiar voice. He turns around, spots Li Qin paused by the exit and feels himself starting to smile.
They end up getting Starbucks right here in the building, since she is done for the day and Xiao Zhan’s arrived a little earlier than strictly necessary.
“Ugh, you are still a freak about not being late,” Li Qin snorts at him.
“You laugh, but I came in late for an audition once and it was awful,” he grimaces. Really, that should never be allowed to happen again. The margin for error is basically non-existent in this industry.
They catch up and it’s nice. Making friends on set is easy, the hard part is to stay in touch after that. They take a selfie and send it to Darren, who surprisingly responds within ten minutes with a ‘I see how it is, you bastards, Ji Chong wins after all’ accompanied by a truly staggering amount of crying emojis. That’s their cue to promise to get together sometime in the future, but it’s optimistic at best, considering their schedules.
“That’s right, your new drama is about to come out soon! I hear it’s going to be big.”
“Yeah, in three days. Big is the right word, I hope. I actually think the nerves are starting to get to me,” Xiao Zhan rolls his eyes, “I dreamed about donkeys today, of all things. I miss just passing out from exhaustion on set and not dreaming about anything. But hey, enough about me, tell me about your new movie.”
She does and then grabs her phone.
“And it has actually made me want to make time for dancing. I discovered this girl, I think she’s also an actress, she’s amazing. Let me show you a video…” Li Qin starts scrolling, but before she can find the right file, Xiao Zhan’s manager comes to get him.
“Sorry, gotta go now. Send me the link though, okay?” It’s always a pleasure to watch people be this passionate about something, and Xiao Zhan may not be the best dancer himself, but he can appreciate a quality performance.
They say their goodbyes and he hurries to the interview. It goes pretty well, so does an endorsement photoshoot later in the day. His manager reminds him to choose a script asap. Xiao Zhan promises he’s working on it. And he is. He went through more scripts in the last couple of days. There’s one that is okay. He still keeps looking.
By the time he drops to the sofa at home, Li Qin has sent him the video. He’s too tired to get up and eat or take a shower or anything, really, so now is as good a time as any to watch it. Xiao Zhan presses play.
Two minutes pass. He watches it again. And again. He pats his face and realises he’s been crying. Checking the dancer’s name — Xuan Lu — doesn’t clear anything up. Her movements are exquisite, graceful and gentle, the hair and clothes matching the historical style of the dance, and her face, her face… Something in his chest squeezes and refuses to let go.
Xiao Zhan has always been responsive to art in its many forms: movies, songs, paintings, dances, even design. It never fails to elicit an emotional response from him if it hits just right. Sometimes emotional enough that he cries, true. This is still weird. He doesn’t think he’s ever cried watching someone dance.
He’s too shaken up to just sit here, so he goes to the bathroom, washes his face, exchanges contacts for glasses. There’s no one unfamiliar in the mirror this time, but he looks… not sad, exactly. Vulnerable, maybe? Xiao Zhan shakes his head at the reflection. He should probably take a break today. Maybe order some soup, fill his hungry stomach, watch a movie or something, distract himself. He doesn’t want to know what kind of dreams he’d have if he went to sleep right now. He would rather dream about stupid stubborn donkeys again.
***
Next week is busy as hell. He jets between Beijing, Shanghai and Nanjing to make guest appearances, take meetings with some brands, film a commercial or two. In the middle of all that Duoluo finally starts airing. It does end up on a few hot searches. Xiao Zhan watches the first two episodes on his phone and is pretty impressed with how good it looks, even if he himself is not in them. The cast group chat blows up, and quiets down only marginally after the initial excitement is over. It’s too early to say anything, but so far the response from the audience is okay.
He’s back in Beijing today, and on a mission too. Xiao Zhan feels like this deserves to be called a mission, considering he organised the audition himself. Wajijiwa has never wanted him to be an actor, insisting he doesn’t have enough charisma to be a leading man. They still don’t fail to subtly remind him of that. But at least now that he’s moderately successful the management actually does something about his acting career.
There’s a downside, because of course there is. They don’t see him as a marketable singer now. Since X-Nine’s disbandment in all but name Xiao Zhan hasn’t really had an opportunity to perform on stage, and he misses it dearly. He doesn’t see why he has to choose only acting or only singing. Hence, today.
The first notes of Kepler are well-loved and soothing in a way very few things are. Xiao Zhan closes his eyes, for a second blocking out the row of producers sitting in front of him, and starts singing. He could perform this song in his sleep, pretty sure he did at some point, but that doesn’t mean he sings it now with less feeling than it deserves.
He does fumble the last line, somehow changing ‘reminding me that I’m a lonely star’ to ‘I am deeply in love with a lonely star’. What the fuck. Where did that even come from. Xiao Zhan does his best not to cringe outwardly, but he doesn’t think anyone’s noticed the slip-up. In fact, some of his audience is kind of misty-eyed.
Well. Xiao Zhan knows exactly what they see right now. Knows the effect his clear voice, and big eyes, and a gentle smile can have. You have to be aware of your advantages if you want to survive in this business. It’s not like he’s being insincere, he is all of those things. It’s just not all he is. But if they want that kind of image, it’s not a chore to give it to them. He widens his smile just so, makes his eyes crinkle a tiny bit and watches with satisfaction as they react to it.
Turns out, that’s the most he gets today. They ask him why he wants to be on Tencent’s version of “Our Song” and he explains as articulately as he can. The misty-eyed look is gone, the producers’ gazes have turned calculating. In the end, it all comes down to this.
“Oh, I see you have a drama airing right now, is that correct?” one of the them asks, glancing down at something written in his notes.
“Yes, Douluo Continent.”
“Interesting. Well, we’ll see. Thank you for coming today. It was a pleasure.”
In other words, it all depends on how popular Douluo makes him. Xiao Zhan wants to grind his teeth. It doesn’t matter how much they like him. Doesn’t matter how impressed they are with his abilities. Sometimes what they want most is the star power to get viewers. It’s frustrating.
Instead of letting any of it show on his face, Xiao Zhan bows deeply and says with a smile, “Thank you for giving me a chance, I am very grateful.”
He casts the heavy thoughts aside and focuses on the fact that he has nothing to be ashamed of. Xiao Zhan came and did the job to the best of his abilities (the weird lyrics mix-up non-withstanding). That’s all he can do. And it’s not like it’s a lost cause, he still has a chance if Douluo does well.
Xiao Zhan is waiting for the elevator when someone rushes past him to get to a girl standing by the window.
“Ziyi!”
Presumably Ziyi lifts her head and Xiao Zhan forgets where he is for a second. He stares at her dark hair, at the red shirt she has on that makes her elegant neck look blindingly white, at her slender wrists and hands with long fingers. Then he realises he’s staring. A quick glance confirms he’s not the only one who’s noticed. The girl frowns at him. And fuck if that doesn’t make her even more—
“Can I help you?”
And he’s still staring like a creeper. This thought wakes him up.
“No, sorry, I thought you were someone I knew. I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you!” Xiao Zhan bows and flees to the elevator that finally comes in his time of need.
The doors close and Xiao Zhan slumps against the wall. What the hell? Someone he knew? The girl looked more amused than anything else by the time he was finished talking, so he really, really hopes this, whatever this was, won’t earn him a reputation of a creepy stalker. Still, he’s so mortified he forgets all about his previous worries.
***
That night, Xiao Zhan dreams of capable hands stitching him back together, of dead dirt that produces beautiful things, of radishes and potatoes, of two words said by a voice so dear that all the accumulated debt on both sides is completely irrelevant. Most of all, he dreams of a chance to make right choices and stand by what he believes in no matter what people say.
***
March 14th comes around and Xiao Zhan finds himself flashing a guest pass to enter Hunan TV at 07:45 in the morning. He’s a bit sleep-deprived but fully prepared to give Douluo a good rep during today’s recording of Tian Tian Xiang Shang. There’s no one inside, at least as far as he can see from the entrance, which is weird, considering they are supposed to be at hair and make up in fifteen minutes. Sure, he’s a bit early, but he’s usually not the only one.
Pondering whether it’d be better to ask someone in the cast group chat or to try finding an assistant here, Xiao Zhan turns the corner and is abruptly driven into a wall. He bangs his head and left shoulder pretty hard and someone’s elbow definitely bruises his arm.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, are you okay?” a voice wheezes from somewhere in the vicinity of his shoulder.
Then the weight pinning him to the wall is gone and Xiao Zhan tries to concentrate on the figure in front of him. For a second he sees an explosion of white and blue, and noble eyes that speak of years upon years of waiting. He starts reaching out on instinct, but then his gaze finally focuses and that’s Wang Yibo in front of him. The world stops buzzing, and for what feels like the first time in weeks, maybe months, everything gets quiet.
The nervous feeling that comes with Douluo’s airing; the constant worrying about what steps to take next; the troubles with the management; the nagging thought that maybe he’s just not enough to make it truly big in the industry; the weird reaction to people he’s never met; the never-ending dreams that range from cheerful and happy to scary and bloody, but always, always feature an elusive black-and-red shadow. It all just. Quiets down. And in the resulting clarity there’s only one burning question that demands an answer.
“Why are you skateboarding at Hunan Broadcasting System headquarters at eight in the morning?”
Wang Yibo blinks, as if he’s also resurfacing from some inner turmoil. “Uh… Why not?”
“Why not?” Xiao Zhan is a little annoyed and a whole lot stunned. “Because it can result in you crashing into someone and injuring them? And probably yourself?”
“That’s fair, I guess,” the boy does look apologetic, he has to give him at least that. “Are you injured? Should I get a doctor?”
Xiao Zhan moves his left shoulder and gingerly touches the back of his head. “Nah, I’ll live.”
Wang Yibo stares at his face. “Um. You’re Xiao Zhan, right? You’re here for the recording? I’m Wang Yibo, one of the Tian Tian Xiang Shang hosts. Let me… Can I make it up to you? Maybe get you some ice? Breakfast? Something to drink? Or anything else. If you want.”
He’s rambling, and it’s kind of, well, cute. Xiao Zhan’s annoyance is starting to dissipate. “I don’t think we have time, but thanks.”
“What do you mean? The hair and make up start at ten.”
“What? No. It’s in,” Xiao Zhan checks his watch, “nine minutes.”
“We pushed the time though, it was a whole thing. Didn’t your management tell you?” he sounds genuinely confused, and Xiao Zhan feels annoyance creeping back. He definitely would’ve remembered if his management told him about this. What Wang Yibo doesn’t know, however, is how bad Xiao Zhan’s relationship with Wajijiwa is. He can easily believe they’ve somehow failed to inform him of the change.
He puts on a smile and makes himself laugh, “Yeah, no, I must’ve forgotten. Explains why no one’s here yet.”
Wang Yibo nods. “So, breakfast, then? What kind of host would I be if I let you just wander around here by yourself for two hours?”
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
“Come on, rice noodles here are the best you’ll ever eat.”
What kind of host indeed, he thinks while the boy picks up the skateboard that caused this impromptu meeting. As they head towards a restaurant somewhere in the building, Xiao Zhan tries to remember what he knows about Wang Yibo. An idol who’s mostly famous for his versatile interests. An actor that’s still trying to establish himself, much like Xiao Zhan. Can’t forget about the dancer part, that one he knows from personal experience. Temperament-wise, Wang Yibo is known as a hard-working, if a bit quiet and aloof guy.
That’s about everything Xiao Zhan has been able to recall by the time he sits down, while his host goes away, presumably to order the promised breakfast. He is back a minute later with an ice pack.
“They let me borrow it from the kitchen,” he says and comes to stand over Xiao Zhan, gesturing towards his head. “Can I?”
“I think at this point we are intimate enough for this, with you sticking your pointy elbows into my arms and pinning me to a wall and what not.” Xiao Zhan grumbles before mentally slapping himself. What is he even doing? He’s usually much better at keeping himself in check. Fuck, if he just offended one of the TTXS brothers…
“It’s not my fault you weren’t watching where you were going. I was practicing and you kinda ruined it, actually.” Wang Yibo replies with a frown. His face is cold. Very serious. Very solemn.
Xiao Zhan looks at the furrowed eyebrows, the downturned slope of his mouth and then meets his frosty gaze. He comes to the only possible conclusion and says, with wonder, “Wow. Wow. You are a brat, aren’t you?”
The said brat’s lips twitch before stretching into a pleased smirk. “And you’re mean. So much for your reputation of a nice and polite guy. I’m shocked.”
Wang Yibo knows about his reputation?
“I am nice. Now shut up and check my head.”
Wang Yibo laughs — how exactly ‘quiet and aloof’ is supposed to coexist with a croaking sound like that, Xiao Zhan can’t phantom — and does as he’s told. There are no bumps or anything, but they still apply the ice pack just in case. In a few minutes two bowls of noodles are set in front of them and that gives Xiao Zhan pause. He wasn’t actually going to eat anything before filming but was too disoriented and distracted to say anything about it.
“Uh. I’m not sure I should eat it so close to recording, sorry.”
Wang Yibo sizes him up and then raises an elbow, theatrically wincing. “As you pointed out earlier, my elbows were rudely hurt by your arms. So you should make it up to me and eat this whole bowl.”
“Did you just…” Xiao Zhan gapes, “Did you just try to use your made-up injuries to guilt-trip me into eating? Is that what happened? Wang Yibo, are you human?”
The boy’s grin is very, very smug. “Yep. But seriously, eat it. Han-ge says it’s wrong to waste food, especially Changsha’s rice noodles.”
“He sounds wise.”
Wang Yibo snorts, “Do let him hear you saying that, and you’ll be all set for today’s recording.”
Xiao Zhan reluctantly reaches for chopsticks and then bats his eyelashes across the table. “Don’t I already have you to take care of me today?” He hopes he hasn’t miscalculated. Wang Yibo seems like the sort to appreciate this kind of assholery.
He gets another snort and half-downcast eyes. “Yeah, right, I can barely take care of myself.”
That won’t do. “I seem to remember you doing just fine.”
“What?”
“It’s not my first time on Tian Tian Xiang Shang. I was here with my band, X-Nine, a few years ago.”
“X-Nine? Oh, the one with the canola field. I don’t think we talked, though.” Wang Yibo eyes him up and down and openly leers. “I would definitely remember talking to Xiao-laoshi.”
There it is. That’s better.
“Well, what I remember is you destroying my bandmate in a dance battle. Wang-laoshi has left an impression on this humble viewer.”
“That was just okay, if I remember correctly.”
“Is your dancing being ‘just okay’ the reason you’re gonna be on Street Dance of China?”
“You’ve heard about that?”
Just like that, Wang Yibo is on. They go through several topics, and he is animated and chatty through all of them. It starts with a long ramble on street dance culture and shifts into comparing notes on idol life. Xiao Zhan shares some of the experiences from his normal life in Chongqing and Yibo talks a little bit about growing up in Korea. Xiao Zhan complains about missing Jianguo — you have a cat? show me, show me, oh my god her legs are so short — and Yibo shoves footage of a motorcycle race in his face, which gets a lot more exciting and scary when he explains that the footage is of him. Somehow this leads to Xiao Zhan admitting he misses singing and then they talk about Kepler and Nan Hai, Stephanie Sun and G-Dragon, swapping stories about industry seniors they got to meet. It’s nothing serious, until:
“Sometimes I think I just need one role, you know, that one role that turns the tide.”
“Yeah, I know, that’s exactly it.” Xiao Zhan agrees. “But it’s so hard to predict which one is going to be the one.”
“Maybe we should just star together in a drama. Since we are both so amazing, it’s sure to be a hit, and we’ll become China’s top actors overnight.”
“Wow, that sounds so believable.”
They move on to jokingly make plans to get hair transplants after commiserating about wigs in period dramas. Yibo mentions wontons and that sparks a long argument about the best places to get food in Hengdian. They are both a bit shocked to find out their exact age gap:
“You’re telling me I’ve been calling you laoshi this whole time when you are actually a kid?”
“Who are you calling a kid?” Yibo is cute with indignation written all over his fave. God, he’s so fun to tease. “You are just old!” Indignation gives way to what Xiao Zhan is starting to secretly call Yibo’s gremlin grin. “That’s okay, though, Xiao-laoshi is so youthful, so beautiful and lively he could easily pass for a 97-liner!”
It’s Xiao Zhan’s turn to sputter and he reaches across the table to hit this walking menace. He should’ve known there would be a retaliation, he thinks as Yibo hits him in the shoulder. He pretends to be in pain.
“Have you decided to finish me off today, didi? What did my poor shoulder do to you? Is slamming me into a wall not enough?”
Yibo actually starts to look alarmed, eyes wide, mouth poised for an apology, and it’s all terribly endearing. Then he narrows his eyes and says very dryly, “I slammed your other shoulder into a wall, gege.”
“Eh, worth a try.” Xiao Zhan throws him his best smile, and Yibo looks a bit dazed for a second. Huh.
The thing is, it’s really easy to talk to him. Yibo is sharp and attentive, intelligent and responsive, hilarious and kind, both obviously young and mature in way only growing up in the industry can make a person. So it comes as a surprise when Xiao Zhan checks his wristwatch and sees that it’s been an hour and forty minutes since they came into the restaurant.
“We should probably head out now,” he says.
Yibo’s a bit startled and checks his own watch. He looks even more surprised. “Oh. Right, come on.”
Xiao Zhan makes some noises about paying for the meal, but they assure him it’s all on TTXS’s tab. He thanks the workers profusely and tells them it was the best bowl of rice noodles he’s ever had.
“Did you mean it?” Yibo asks as they exit the room.
“Yes, yes, you were right about that one.”
“Then you totally own me a favour for introducing you to Changsha noodles.”
“Wait, wha—”
“Ooh, I know, I want you to skate down this corridor, Zhan-ge.”
“What kind of logic is that? And no way in hell! Do you want me to crash into some poor soul? We don’t have time to treat someone else to a meal as a repayment.”
“Stop worrying, it’ll be fine. Come on, I’ll show you.”
Apparently, Yibo’s enthusiasm is contagious. He shows Xiao Zhan how to balance and promises to guide him all the way till the end. That’s how Xiao Zhan finds himself on an actual skateboard, clutching Yibo’s forearm, miraculously moving forward. It’s kinda fun until he spots someone moving in their direction.
“Wait, Yibo, how do I stop? Yibo!”
The person is nowhere near the collision zone, but Xiao Zhan panics and jumps. He’s fine, since Yibo takes most of his weight, but the skateboard rolls forward until it bumps into feet that belong to… Oh no. No way. Xiao Zhan freezes and starts praying for the floor to open up and swallow him whole. The man does something with his foot and the far end of the skateboard comes flying upwards, and he just stands there with a skateboard in hand, calm as anything. Xiao Zhan feels his jaw drop.
“What? Yibo taught me a few things too,” Wang Han says, cool as a cucumber.
That’s when Yibo starts laughing, like an utter gremlin he is. Except he doesn’t just laugh, he also says, “If it helps, Zhan-ge thinks you’re wise, he told me himself.”
Xiao Zhan bares his teeth and turns to him, ready to draw blood, but Yibo’s looking at Wang Han, and his smile is heart-shaped, nose all scrunched-up. Xiao Zhan kinda… Doesn’t want to draw blood anymore. He releases Yibo’s forearm instead and walks up to one of China’s most respected hosts.
“Wang Han-laoshi, please accept my apologies. My name is Xiao Zhan, I’m with the Douluo Continent crew. I’m very excited to be here today. I promise nothing like this will happen again.” He bows deeply.
“Nice to meet you again, Xiao Zhan. Welcome! And please, ‘Han-ge’ is fine.” The man turns his piercing gaze to Yibo, “I thought you’d be sleeping since you’d come straight from the airport, but I see you found another way to entertain yourself.”
Wow, that’s a bit… Out of the corner of his eye, Xiao Zhan sees Yibo’s ears turn red. Yep, Wang Han is merciless. This is fun.
Yibo seems to get his bearings and cheerily replies, “I was just following your advice and getting breakfast. I know how you worry, Han-ge.”
“As if my worrying has ever stopped you,” Wang Han says, mostly to himself, and shakes his head before returning his attention to Xiao Zhan. “I hope our Yibo here hasn’t been teaching you skateboarding tricks all morning.”
“No, no, I’m actually very grateful to him. I came a bit early and he was gracious enough to keep me company for a while.”
“Was he?” Wang Han raises an eyebrow.
Alright, he is definitely laughing at them both. Xiao Zhan doesn’t need to look to know Yibo’s ears are an even darker shade now. He feels his own getting warm. Still, he soldiers on, “Yes. He made me try the rice noodles here, and that was a revelation.”
“Then that’s a morning well-spent indeed! But I have to borrow Yibo now, and I believe some of the other guests have arrived and are looking for you.”
“Oh, okay, thank you.”
They start walking and soon Xiao Zhan spots Wu Xuanyi and Li Xian. Before he can go to them, Yibo smiles at him and says, “See you later, Zhan-ge.”
Xiao Zhan waves him goodbye and turns to his co-stars. The quiet that’s been enveloping him for the past two hours is starting to dissipate. That’s fine. Time to work.
***
The recording starts out pretty standard. They go through a few segments, try some new things, play games, promote Douluo, all the while bantering with the hosts and each other. Xiao Zhan catches Yibo looking a couple of times, which in itself is nothing too surprising, but then he notices Da Zhangwei noticing and things escalate from there up to the point where Qian Feng shamelessly declares to the cameras that Yibo’s a little distracted today, complete with a meaningful look in Xiao Zhan’s direction.
He feels a bit like a prince storming the castle to get to the princess. Except instead of a castle there’s a studio with an audience and a few dozen cameras. And instead of a monster guarding the princess there are three geges delighting in nothing more that embarrassing her as much as possible. The princess herself is really a gremlin who, having shown off his dancing skills during one of the segments, has the gall to bounce to Xiao Zhan’s side with a casual was I handsome, ge? And Xiao Zhan is not so much storming the castle as he’s casually hanging around, thinking it was nice talking to the princess that one time.
It’s ridiculous and mortifying, if kind of amusing too.
That is, until, almost at the very end, a three-person orchestra goes on stage to promote traditional musical instruments. One of the women raises a dizi to her lips, takes a breath, and the first notes fill the air.
Xiao Zhan’s heart skips a beat.
And then it starts thumping so fast it’s almost painful. He feels his throat tightening, insides hollowing out. His hands itch for something, something… The world blurs at the edges, filling with wispy black smoke, and something red flutters almost in his field of vision.
The dizi cries in his ears, and he knows with perfect clarity what it feels like to command the entire world with a song. Knows the epic highs, like a loud laughter that is a challenge to the whole universe, a challenge he’s going to win; like the most precious wine that spills down his chin; like looking at dirty, worn, weathered faces, seeing gratitude and warmth in their eyes and realising nothing has been in vain; like walking into the morning sun and knowing you get a second chance; like playing a melody with a person who understands you for your entire lifetime.
He knows the epic lows, too: a hunger, a real hunger that gnaws at his insides; the feeling of a golden sun being cut out of his chest; slowly becoming one with a place full of dead things; sorry and thank you in a dear, dear voice he’ll never get to hear again; the most beloved eyes closing forever because of him; the pain of walking away from everything he’s ever wanted to be able to do what he believes is right.
Xiao Zhan knows he’s never experienced any of it, these are not his feelings. But there’s a shadow behind him that could be almost nightmarish, and feels like a friend, a reflection, a part of him instead. Suddenly the world is brighter, bigger, more.
The music stops and Xiao Zhan breathes.
***
Because he is a professional, Xiao Zhan manages to keep it together. By the time the filming is over, he is mostly fine and back to the world of living. He says his thanks to the TTXS crew, lets Yibo scan his WeChat QR code, but declines an invitation to dinner from Douluo castmates. Xiao Zhan would gladly go under normal circumstances, but he still feels like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin.
The feeling is there when he gets to the hotel, there when he showers and puts on worn pyjama pants and a soft hoodie, there when he tries to distract himself with Weibo. When it doesn’t work, Xiao Zhan thinks about this morning, how quiet it was. He’s not up to an actual human conversation, but maybe Yibo’s magic works through TV too.
It’s easy to find a rerun of an old TTXS episode. Xiao Zhan half-watches it, doodling on a tablet he digs out of his suitcase. It actually kind of works for a while, the episode being particularly hilarious and Yibo repeatedly losing it at Qian Feng’s shenanigans, but then Xiao Zhan finally focuses on what he has being drawing.
Oh. Of course.
The ribbon is searingly red. Everything clicks into place. That’s what’s been haunting his dreams, constantly on the periphery of his vision, teasing, toying with him, but never fully revealing itself. It’s here now, right in front of his eyes, beautiful and familiar.
Xiao Zhan grabs his phone and types ‘red ribbon, dizi’. The first thing Baidu shows him is a name. Again, it is familiar, achingly so. Without a shadow of doubt, it has burrowed somewhere deep inside him, even if he wasn’t really aware of it. Xiao Zhan swallows. The second thing he sees is a picture from a donghua, and, yeah. The robes are different and the hair isn’t in a half ponytail, but the smile. Xiao Zhan knows that smile. All of China knows it. Half the world knows it. It is not his own, but he is capable of smiling exactly like that. He has. At least, he should have. Xiao Zhan hears his own words, the ones he’s never said, except that he has. They echo through his whole being now.
I am so fortunate to have met you, Wei Wuxian.
***
The room is bright and warm with the last rays of the setting sun, the wide-open curtains not doing anything to stop the light. Xiao Zhan blinks once, twice, then again. He must have fallen asleep. The dream is clear in his mind, almost like a memory and not a vision conjured-up by his subconsciousness. Xiao Zhan huffs. Well, his subconsciousness was a bit on the nose, wasn’t it, considering what he’s been doing before conking out. He unlocks his phone and, yes, his manager’s email about an invite to Tencent Video All Star Night is still there, has been for the last two days.
Xiao Zhan sits up and rubs his eyes. That email caused a new bout of spiralling. He’s been slowly, carefully getting back into the fold after the whole 227 ordeal. A douyin here, a Weibo post there, a bit of live-streaming and very secret filming, a few performances on stage. But it’s all meticulously planned, controlled, more or less safe. Tencent Night is different. There’s no way to predict how that goes, there could be a lot of backlash and he’d have to start all over again.
So for the past two days Xiao Zhan has been doing a lot of thinking, just like in those early months. What could go wrong now, what did go wrong then, what he could’ve done differently, how the scandal could’ve been prevented. One thing led to another, and then there was a thought. Maybe, just maybe, if he hadn’t become famous overnight, if he’d climbed those steps instead of flying up them, if he’d been better prepared for such fame… It did occur to him, just before falling asleep, that that would require A-Ling’s nonexistence. Evidently, his brain decided to follow this train of thought.
Xiao Zhan gets up, goes to his desk and opens the lowest drawer. And there it is. He takes the ribbon out of its glass casing, runs his fingers through it and finally wraps it a few times around his palm.
A world without Chen Qing Ling, huh?
What a disaster. Perhaps he would be, just like in the dream, a mid-tier actor, constantly searching for his break-through. Maybe he would find it, maybe not. It takes a very precise combination of talent, hard work and luck to make it big in this industry. He’s been lucky in that aspect.
And, look. While he wouldn’t say those months were hell, people go through much worse every day, take the pandemic, for example (very convenient of his dream to just leave the virus out completely, by the way), that time was extremely hard for him. Hard enough to seriously consider hightailing it back to Chongqing. However, now Xiao Zhan is armed with experience, lawyers, his own studio and a team he can rely on. He still, for better or worse, has millions of fans that are interested in his work, has connections and there’s talk of quite a few new endorsements. There is a stack of interesting scripts on his table and, apparently, an invite to one of the industry’s biggest nights of the year. When he puts it like that, would he really trade this for something else, even if it would let him avoid those troubled months?
Career opportunities aside, the thought of never meeting Wei Wuxian is too depressing. Xiao Zhan moves his hand a bit and watches as the light shifts on the red cloth. Being A-Xian was unlike anything he’s ever experienced in his life. He knows perfectly well they are different people, knows exactly where he ends and Wei Wuxian begins. But that wasn’t always the case.
The thing about about Wei Wuxian is that he’s both heartbreakingly human and larger than life at the same time. So it was hard to not get sucked in by him, to not feel his pain or happiness or anything else, really. Sometimes, after the hardest scenes, he would sit with Yibo or Xuan Lu and slowly come back to himself. Xiao Zhan has learned not to drown in his characters by now, but he doesn’t think anything could’ve ever saved him from the pureness of Wei Wuxian’s emotions. He had to run away to a foreign country to separate himself from the character, which he did, successfully, only to find out that he had already been changed.
And really, who could remain unchanged in the face of Wei Wuxian’s determination, compassion, sense of justice, his ability to go through unimaginable suffering and still remain optimistic, full of light and love for such flawed world? Xiao Zhan couldn’t. So Wei Wuxian is not just a character for him, he’s an example, an inspiration, a source of strength, a distorted reflection of himself and even a friend, in a way. He’s a part of Xiao Zhan, always and forever. That’s worth more than can be put into words.
Speaking of things that Wei Wuxian has brought into his life. Xiao Zhan glances at the door. If he listens hard enough, he can make out muffled sounds from the living room. He crosses the bedroom and heads towards their source.
“Bo-ge, you won’t believe the dream I just had.”
Yibo pauses the game he was playing and looks up, “Ohh, the old man is finally done with his afternoon nap? What did you dream about? Was it me?” he smirks and wiggles his eyebrows.
Xiao Zhan scowls and comes closer, “Ugh, that would be truly weird and disturbing, who’d want to dream about you?”
“Xiao-laoshi is so mean, so cruel, he always toys with this one’s heart.”
“You just called me an old man, so who’s really the mean one here?”
Yibo opens his mouth to undoubtably spew more bullshit, but then abruptly closes it. His eyes zero in on the ribbon still loosely wrapped about Xiao Zhan’s palm. The change from an annoying puppy to the man who’s been Xiao Zhan’s rock this whole year is instantaneous. Yibo takes Xiao Zhan’s hand and tugs him down to sit on the couch. The question in his eyes is evident.
“I think I’m gonna go to the Tencent event.”
“That’s great. You know I’ll be there for you, right? Anything you need,” Yibo sounds terribly earnest. Then he smiles, “I bet they’ll give you your red ocean again.”
Xiao Zhan laughs and lowers his eyes. He’s not so sure. What he is sure of is that he’s not walking this single-log bridge alone, and that makes all the difference in the world.
“So,” Yibo continues, gently rubbing his thumb up and down the ribbon. “It must’ve been one hell of dream.”
Xiao Zhan squeezes his hand and tells him.