After breakfast, the two of them drove to the film set.
Because the May Day holiday had brought too many people outside, the crew had been shooting only indoor scenes these past few days. The set was chaotic—Director Zhao Zhen’s booming voice echoed everywhere, the crew hurried back and forth setting up the scenery, and Wang Chen, freshly made up, was sitting in a chair, frowning as he complained quietly to his assistant.
Liang Zhou led Yu Shulin inside, receiving countless greetings along the way.
Everyone was quite curious about Yu Shulin, who was walking beside Liang Zhou, but seeing that Liang Zhou didn’t introduce him, they all obediently controlled their gazes, refraining from sneaking glances at Yu Shulin.
Finally, Zhao Zhen decided the set was ready. Seeing Liang Zhou approach, his attitude immediately shifted. He smiled and said, “Xiao Liang, why are you late today? Hurry and change into your costume and get your makeup done. Your scene is the second one.”
“Director Zhao.” Liang Zhou nodded in greeting, then took Yu Shulin’s hand and introduced him, “Shulin, this is Director Zhao, an old friend of my father who has helped me a lot. You can call him Uncle Zhao.”
“Hello, Uncle Zhao. My name is Yu Shulin.” Yu Shulin politely greeted him, his demeanor obedient and sincere.
“Xiao Liang, what’s this... I hope you’re not trying to pull strings here.” Zhao Zhen gave Yu Shulin a quick once-over. Seeing that he looked quite good, he assumed Liang Zhou was introducing an actor, and his brows immediately furrowed.
Faced with Zhao Zhen, Liang Zhou softened his tone and smiled, shaking his head as he explained, “He’s my younger brother. He came over during the May Day holiday to visit me. He’s not an artist signed with the company.”
“Your brother?” Zhao Zhen was momentarily stunned. He scrutinized Yu Shulin again, then quickly asked, “Is he the kid from back then?”
Liang Zhou glanced at the confused look on Yu Shulin’s face and nodded. “Yes, that’s him. You can just call him Xiao Yu. I’m going to change now. He won’t cause any trouble—just let him sit next to you and watch.”
Zhao Zhen’s attention was already fully on Yu Shulin. Hearing this, he waved him over, signaling for him to sit on the chair behind the camera.
Yu Shulin glanced at Liang Zhou, who reached out to gently ruffle his hair and softly said, “Go ahead. I’ll change and come find you when I’m done.”
“Okay.” Yu Shulin nodded and followed Zhao Zhen.
Once seated, Yu Shulin noticed the serious middle-aged man staring at him intently. He smiled politely and said, “Uncle Zhao, sorry to trouble you. I promise I won’t run off. I’ll behave.”
“Your surname is Yu?” Zhao Zhen squinted at him, pondering for a moment before suddenly speaking up, leaning closer with a somewhat urgent tone, “How is your mother... is she well?”
“You know my mother?” Yu Shulin was taken aback for a moment, then quietly replied, “My mother passed away almost two years ago.”
Zhao Zhen’s expression suddenly turned a bit dazed, then deepened into a heavy melancholy. His eyes stared blankly into the void, as if recalling something, lost in thought. After a long while, he finally snapped back to reality and sighed deeply, “He’s already passed away…”
He scrutinized Yu Shulin’s face carefully, as if trying to find some trace of another person in it. The longer he looked, the heavier his sigh became.
“Uncle Zhao…” Yu Shulin felt uneasy under his intense gaze and instinctively edged backward.
Realizing his rudeness, Zhao Zhen quickly withdrew his eyes, shook his head, and sighed again. “Your mother was a good woman, just unfortunate in fate… It was Liang Chi who wronged her… Back then… fate played its tricks, and Liang Chi just couldn’t turn the corner, which led to…” He muttered to himself, his gaze drifting off once more, seemingly lost in some deep reverie.
As Zhao Zhen spoke of his parents, Yu Shulin fell silent too. Over the past two years, he had learned bits and pieces about his parents’ past from Aunt Liu. In the end, it all boiled down to two words: “missed chances.” Liang Chi valued promises too much, his mother prized her dignity above all else, and their stubbornness led to a final outcome where they never saw each other again until death.
Liu Nana’s call brought Zhao Zhen back to the present. He wiped his face, glanced sideways at Yu Shulin, sighed, and waved his hand with authority, “Get ready. Where’s Wang Chen? Tell her to come over; we’re about to start shooting!”
A crew member whispered back, “Wang Chen ran off to Liang Zhou’s dressing room.”
Zhao Zhen’s face darkened. He slammed the armrest of his chair. “Tell her to hurry up!” He didn’t like how obvious Wang Chen’s feelings for Liang Zhou were.
Seeing this, Liu Nana quickly pulled out a compact mirror to touch up her makeup, masking a cold smile at the corner of her lips.
Yu Shulin frowned slightly, watching everyone’s reactions. What was going on with Wang Chen…?
Halfway through filming the scene between Liu Nana and Wang Chen, Liang Zhou finally appeared. He was dressed in a military uniform, his hair slicked back with gel, makeup applied, making his eyes look much more spirited. His complexion was pale, as if recovering from an illness, but even so, wearing the uniform made him look sharp and commanding.
“Brother, you look… so handsome like this.” Yu Shulin cautiously edged closer and reached out to touch the holster hanging at Liang Zhou’s waist. “Is this gun real?”
Liang Zhou loved these intimate little gestures. He took Yu Shulin’s hand and squeezed it gently, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “No, it’s high-quality prop, just looks real.” His features softened, and the fierce aura that usually surrounded him vanished, making him even more attractive. “I only have two scenes this morning. After filming, let’s call Ling Chun out for lunch, and in the afternoon, I’ll take you around S City, how about that?”
“I’ll listen to you, Brother.” Yu Shulin nodded eagerly, his eyes shining. He had been wanting to watch Liang Zhou act for a long time.
Watching someone act was a novel experience. Setting aside all the fancy descriptions, to Yu Shulin, acting was basically a constant changing of faces—it was just… so fascinating.
Liang Zhou slipped into character quickly, delivering his lines with meticulous precision and never breaking character. As long as his scene partners didn’t mess up, he usually nailed it in one take.
Unfortunately, today was different—Wang Chen was completely off her game.
In a scene where she was supposed to seduce but ended up getting caught, she flubbed her lines nine times. Zhao Zhen was grinding his teeth in frustration, and even Liang Zhou felt a growing irritation. Normally, it wouldn’t be such a big deal, but today Shulin was waiting, and this final scene should have wrapped up half an hour ago. Instead, it dragged on, and if they took any longer, they’d even miss lunch.
“Cut! Cut! Cut!” Zhao Zhen frowned and called out, standing up to storm over to Wang Chen. He slapped the script loudly in his hand. “You’re getting caught, not having a casual encounter! Where’s the shock and anger? When you’re being pinned down, you need to struggle, show your unwillingness! Do you understand ‘unwilling’? Don’t worry about your hair getting messed up! Your cover’s blown—there’s no time to care about your hairstyle! Do you even know how to act? If not, I’ll replace you right now! There are plenty of people lining up to play my scenes!”
Wang Chen hung her head, looking genuinely upset. Like a frightened little rabbit, she glanced at Zhao Zhen, then turned pitifully toward Liang Zhou. Softly, she said, “Director Zhao, I’m sorry... I just don’t have my head in it today. Maybe you could shoot other scenes first, and Liang Zhou and I can rehearse off-camera to get back into it...”
“Stupid.” Liu Nana, sitting off to the side during a break, sneered coldly, clearly unimpressed. “If you can’t act well, fine. But don’t make excuses—just asking for trouble.”
Hearing this, Zhao Zhen’s anger flared even more. He threw the script down and roared, “You want Liang Zhou to rehearse with you? You’re asking for a lot. Why should he waste time on you? If it weren’t for you, he’d have finished his scenes long ago! I told you to prepare this scene days ago. What do you mean ‘off your game’? You were all fired up seducing him in the first half—you almost tore his shirt off! Get out of here and seriously reflect. If you keep messing around, I’ll replace you. My scenes aren’t for you to flirt with men!”
That was about as blunt as it got. Everyone on set could see Wang Chen’s feelings for Liang Zhou. Now that the director had called her out like this, Wang Chen... well, she was in deep trouble.
Her face flushed red and then pale under everyone’s gaze. The fragile act was cracking, replaced by awkward resentment. Everyone knew about Wang Chen’s crush on Liang Zhou, but in the entertainment industry, this kind of thing wasn’t unusual. People just turned a blind eye. But now that Zhao Zhen had said it so plainly, as a woman, she had definitely lost face.
Thinking this, she couldn’t help but look up at the stone-faced Liang Zhou. Her eyes were full of hope, and her face put on that pitiful, helpless expression once more. “Liang Ge...”
"Enough, one more take at most. If it still doesn't work, we'll replace you. The company's resources aren't here to be wasted on those who can't deliver," Liang Zhou cut her off decisively. This film was funded by Rongguang Productions, aiming to leverage his current fame to boost some of the company's promising talents. Guan Bowen also had a similar project, but his artists were of a higher caliber. Both of them had put in a lot of effort to quickly cultivate several top-tier stars. Their hard work was all for the company's growth. If someone couldn't appreciate such a golden opportunity and failed to seize it, then there was no point in keeping them around to waste time and resources. Rongguang didn't need undisciplined artists like that.
Wang Chen was so startled by these words that her face turned pale. Liang Zhou was not only the boss of Rongguang but also the investor for this film. If he truly wanted to kick her out, it would be as simple as a single command. This was Zhao Zhen’s meticulously prepared masterpiece after two years of effort—big budget, high production value, and a cast full of talented and famous actors. Losing this chance would be devastating...
At that thought, the grand visions she had entertained after catching Liang Zhou's attention suddenly cleared from her mind. She hurriedly straightened her attitude, repeatedly apologizing to Zhao Zhen and promising with all her heart to do a good job.
Zhao Zhen wasn’t interested in hearing these excuses. She waved her hand dismissively, sat back down, and told the crew to prepare for another take.
This time, finally, there were no more mistakes. The scene where the seduction failed and the character got caught was successfully completed. Just as Zhao Zhen uttered "cut," Liang Zhou’s expression darkened instantly. He withdrew his fingers from Wang Chen’s chin without even glancing at her and turned his back, heading straight to the makeup room to change and remove his makeup.
Seeing this, Wang Chen hurried after him.
Yu Shulin noticed this and glanced at Zhao Zhen before heading toward the room where Liang Zhou was. He pushed open the door and saw the actress who had been messing up earlier sitting pitifully on the sofa, crying and complaining, looking extremely aggrieved.
The makeup artist helping Liang Zhou off with his makeup shot her an impatient look and said coldly, "Wang, can you keep it down? My ears hurt."
Wang Chen choked on the words, lowering her head in grievance, secretly resenting the makeup artist’s meddling, but her eyes still darted toward Liang Zhou now and then.
Yu Shulin sized her up, then walked over to ruffle Liang Zhou’s hair, stiff from the hair gel. "Don’t you mind the noise?" he asked. That woman’s crying was way too fake and annoying.
Hearing his voice, Liang Zhou opened his eyes, raised a hand to stop the makeup artist’s movements, and turned his head toward Yu Shulin, reaching out his hand with a softened expression. "What are you doing here? Hungry?"
"No." Yu Shulin shook his head, glanced at Wang Chen, then suddenly leaned in close, whispering into Liang Zhou’s ear, "Brother, should I be jealous in a situation like this?"
Their lips barely parted as they separated. Liang Zhou’s heartstrings twitched, a faint smile playing in his eyes. Sitting up, he greeted the makeup artist and took Yu Shulin’s hand, leading him toward the restroom in the lounge. "Come on, help me wash my hair. After that, we’ll go eat."
Yu Shulin nodded, smiling brightly as he was led away.
The bathroom door slammed shut, and Wang Chen’s expression darkened. She snorted coldly, “Who’s that stinky kid? Talking without a filter, with that effeminate look.”
The makeup artist rolled her eyes. Seriously, who’s effeminate here? The boy who came looking for Liang Zhou was so clean-cut and handsome—only blind people would see anything else.
Wang Chen saw her roll her eyes again. Remembering how the makeup artist had looked down on her for being noisy before, she snapped angrily, shouting, “What’s your attitude? You’re just a makeup artist, do you want me to fire you right now?”
“Go ahead and fire me if you can,” the makeup artist shot back with a sharp tongue, clearly annoyed. “I’m hired by the crew. You try to fire me. What kind of attitude is that? Thinking you’re so famous? Even top actors and actresses thank me politely when I do their makeup. And what are you? Always trailing after Mr. Liang, impossible to shake off, shameless! Calling him ‘Brother Liang’ all friendly-like—did he ever ask you to? Has he ever responded to that? Pathetic. People like you are doomed to get kicked out sooner or later!”
Wang Chen, used to being arrogant, couldn’t take the insult. She grabbed something nearby and threw it at her, yelling sharply, “Bitch! I’ll have Director Zhao fire you!”
The makeup artist dodged to the side, tidied up her makeup bag, sneered, and walked out of the dressing room without looking back. Before closing the door, she deliberately paused and mocked, “Fine, I’m waiting. Let’s see if Director Zhao fires me or yells at you.”
Inside the bathroom, Yu Shulin, who had just been taken advantage of, was holding the showerhead and rinsing Liang Zhou’s hair. Hearing the quarrel finally end outside, he frowned and said, “Bro, is that Wang Chen from your company? So rude.”
Being tended to by his beloved, Liang Zhou was in a great mood and explained, “She was sent by Liang Zixiu. He thought I wouldn’t notice.”
“Liang Zixiu?” Yu Shulin blinked, turning off the shower and grabbing a towel to start drying his hair. “What was he thinking, sending someone like that?”
Liang Zhou squinted, enjoying his brother’s care. He wrapped his arms around Yu Shulin’s waist and said, “He probably thought Wang Chen was good-looking and figured I’d be smitten by her.” He shook his head. “All that scheming to get someone into Rongguang, and this is the stupid beauty trap he comes up with? Liang Zixiu’s brain must be fried by booze and women.”
“Why not just kick her out?” Yu Shulin still didn’t get it. “Someone like that right in front of you—wouldn’t that be annoying? And you even let her film with you, boosting her popularity and status? Is he stupid?”
Yu Shulin had grown taller recently but was still as skinny as ever, feeling like a bundle of bones. Liang Zhou’s hands slid left and right around his waist as he frowned. “You need to put on some weight.”
“Don’t touch me randomly.” Yu Shulin dropped the towel and grabbed his hand, looking serious. “We agreed—before I’m an adult, no touching. Also, let’s talk about serious stuff.”
Age is truly a sorrowful thing. Liang Zhou rose from the bench, lowered his head to kiss him gently, and took his hand as they walked outside. “Keeping her around is pointless. The role she was given has few lines and isn’t well-liked. It’s no big deal.”
Yu Shulin nodded without pressing further.
In the lounge, Wang Chen was still sitting on the sofa, looking pitiful. When Liang Zhou came out, she hesitated awkwardly before standing, her eyes pleading as if she had nowhere to vent her grievances.
Liang Zhou frowned and ignored her completely. Grabbing his things, he took Yu Shulin’s hand and left the lounge, driving away from the set.
The morning’s filming had dragged on too long. By the time they arrived at the restaurant, Ling Chun had already been waiting for an hour. Seeing the two of them holding hands as they walked in, he smirked and asked, “So, it’s official?”
Liang Zhou nodded, but Yu Shulin felt a little strange. Although he had made up his mind to be with his brother, appearing as a couple in front of acquaintances still felt odd.
Ling Chun noticed his discomfort but didn’t comment. He kept to his usual friendly manner—ordering food, chatting, asking about Liang Zhou’s work, and checking in on Yu Shulin’s studies, just like old times.
Gradually, Yu Shulin’s unease faded, and he relaxed into a natural demeanor.
After a satisfying meal, Ling Chun squinted at Liang Zhou as he helped Yu Shulin with his food, a sly smile playing on his lips. “Shulin, how long until you’re officially an adult?”
“Soon. I’ll graduate high school pretty soon,” Yu Shulin replied, completely at ease and unguarded.
“High school graduation, huh…” Ling Chun stroked his chin, smiling innocently. “You better watch out. Your brother’s a bit of a beast. Remember not to get eaten too soon.”
Yu Shulin choked on his soup, coughing violently.
Liang Zhou quickly patted his back, shooting Ling Chun a sharp glare. “Eat more, talk less.”
“No friends, no love,” Ling Chun scoffed.
The meal stretched until three in the afternoon. After bidding Ling Chun goodbye, Yu Shulin and Liang Zhou didn’t go out to wander but returned to the hotel to rest, planning to go out later that evening.
Now that their relationship was confirmed, Liang Zhou felt some things needed to be clarified. He sat down with Yu Shulin by the bed and said seriously, “Shulin, do you want to know about what happened back then?”
“What happened back then?” Yu Shulin blinked, taking a moment to realize what he meant. Surprised by Liang Zhou’s solemn expression, he couldn’t keep a straight face and smiled. “You mean about my father and my mother? I already know.”
“You know?” Liang Zhou frowned. “Who told you?”
“Big Brother Ling and Aunt Liu. Oh, and Brother He mentioned some things too,” he answered.
Such talkative people. Liang Zhou paused before asking, “...When did you find out?”
Yu Shulin smiled. “After your car accident last time, Big Brother Ling mentioned some agreement. Later, I found a chance to ask around. Sometimes when chatting with Aunt Liu, these things come up, so I know a bit.”
Years ago, Liang Chi and Yu’s mother met on a film set. Liang Chi was the director, and Yu’s mother was a makeup artist hired by the crew. Over the months of filming, the two gradually grew close. Later, Yu’s mother found out she was pregnant, but Liang Chi clung stubbornly to the promise he made to his late wife, Zhou Qingya. He refused to marry Yu’s mother and even urged her to terminate the pregnancy.
Heartbroken and disillusioned, Yu’s mother left him and secretly gave birth to the child. When Liang Chi eventually learned of this, guilt gnawed at him, and he wanted to bring his mother and child back to him. But Yu’s mother was resolute—she flatly refused and insisted on signing an agreement with Liang Chi, forbidding him from ever appearing in Yu Shulin’s life.
No one knows what was going through Liang Chi’s mind, but he actually signed the agreement and even notified everyone who knew about the situation, asking them not to disturb Yu’s mother’s life in the city.
Two people who once loved each other were thus torn apart. Friends around them thought it was such a pity and tried to persuade them again and again. Whenever the topic came up, Liang Chi would sigh deeply. As for Yu’s mother, she left no room for persuasion, cutting off all contact with old friends and focusing solely on being a single mother.
“I think I can understand why Mom made that choice back then,” Yu Shulin scratched his face and smiled. “When I was little, I asked her why I didn’t have a father, what kind of person he was, and where he was.”
“At the time, she just smiled and told me, ‘Whenever you want a certain kind of father, Mom will find one for you.’ Her tone was so sincere, and she looked at me so gently that I never had the heart to ask those questions again.” He turned his head to look at Liang Zhou, like any child proud of their mother, lifting his chin with a beaming smile. “She’s a responsible and loving mother. She thought Liang Chi wasn’t good enough, so she didn’t want me to know about him because she wanted to find me a better father. She loves me—I know that.”
“She’s wonderful,” Liang Zhou said softly, running his fingers through Yu Shulin’s hair with a gentle look in his eyes. “And so are you.”
Yu Shulin grinned widely. “So then? Why did Dad refuse to marry Mom back then?” Although he had a rough idea of what happened, the deeper, more hidden truths remained elusive. Because it involved Liang Zhou’s mother, Yu Shulin had stopped thinking about or asking about the past.
“That’s exactly what I want to tell you,” Liang Zhou said, his expression serious as he took Yu Shulin’s hand. “I’m not your biological father. There are some complicated matters involved, and I’ll explain everything slowly.” Now that he was with Shulin, he wanted to clear up all his doubts. Besides, with the Yan Family already knocking at their door, Shulin would find out eventually—it was better to tell him sooner rather than later.
During the two months they had been apart, Yu Shulin had also thought about the fact that they weren’t related by blood. Seeing Liang Zhou now in that “I’m about to reveal a big secret, and you need to listen carefully” mood, he straightened up and nodded, ready to listen attentively.
Liang Zhou smiled a little, leaned in to kiss him, collected his thoughts, and began to speak.
