TOW 22

Xu Fei dreamed of Liang Xuan again. In the dream, he was straddling Liang Xuan’s lap, kissing him passionately. When he woke up, he found a message from Liang Xuan with a photo attached. The picture showed a pile of Lanterns Beneath the Eaves posters spread across a table, with several people hunched over signing them. Liang Xuan added a note: “My agent plans to distribute these around the community.”

Xu Fei burst out laughing and replied, “Good luck with that.”

Liang Xuan sent back a silly smiling face.
They exchanged a couple more messages.

Somehow, their contact suddenly became more frequent. Xu Fei sent Liang Xuan a promotional still from the horror film he’d done before. It showed a gloomy apartment, a grey wall, and Xu Fei dressed in an orange firefighter uniform, holding a massive axe mid-swing. Beside him were two bold characters: Grey Wall.

Liang Xuan asked, “Are you doing promotions for it?”

Xu Fei replied, “Just a few small interviews.”

Nothing serious like major TV stations, mostly social media channels and a few magazines the production team had connections with. One of them happened to be Style. Sitting across from the reporter, Xu Fei felt a wave of nostalgia. “I worked as a photography assistant at your magazine back in 2002,” he said. “Is Teacher Jia Ran still around?”

The journalist replied, “Resigned a few years ago.” Then asked with interest, “I heard you were in a band?”

Xu Fei shared some of his wild past. They talked for a long time and even took a photo together holding a copy of Style. Xu Fei sent the picture to Liang Xuan and told him, “This was the magazine I used to work at.”
Liang Xuan replied, “The reporter’s pretty handsome.”

Xu Fei responded with a middle finger emoji.

Grey Wall had a limited release. For a low-budget B-grade horror flick, getting a theatrical slot at all was already considered a win. Xu Fei sneaked into a showing. The tone and pacing were solid, and the music was especially eerie and well done. From the front row, a young woman kept shrieking, “What’s going on?” and “Is Xu Fei going to die?”

Xu Fei nearly facepalmed in his seat.

When he came out of the theater, Liang Xuan had sent him a photo of a Grey Wall movie ticket. Xu Fei asked, “Was it good?”
Liang Xuan replied, “Pretty good.”

“Too perfunctory,” Xu Fei complained.

After a long pause, Liang Xuan sent another photo. Dozens of Grey Wall movie tickets were spread out across a table.

“Still think I’m being perfunctory?” he asked.

Xu Fei rolled his eyes, waved down a cab, and sat in the back seat staring out the window. After a while, he finally let out a quiet laugh.

In June, Liang Xuan left to join the crew of his new project, The Mist. They started filming in Xinjing and later moved to Dongning. In recent years, Dongning had developed a massive film and television production base. Combined with the existing zones in Hengdian, the Yangtze River Delta’s film industry had started to consolidate, forming a strong production network. Many crews now preferred shooting there.

Liang Xuan sent Xu Fei a photo from set. The street had been refurbished to look like it was from the 1980s. Extras squatted by the roadside chatting, bowls in hand, and a few detailed, human-sized monster models stood nearby.

Xu Fei asked, “What’s the film about?”

“The Mist,” Liang Xuan replied simply.

Xu Fei broke into a sweat. “Wait, is it based on that Stephen King novel?”

“It’s an adaptation,” Liang Xuan replied, then changed the subject. “Cai Jiajun happens to be in Dongning too. He asked me out for dinner. Want to come?”

What for? Xu Fei thought. Another Southbound reunion? “Nah,” he said. “I’m heading into production in a few days too. Off to Yushan. Got no time.”

“Up to you,” Liang Xuan said. Two days later, he sent Xu Fei a picture of a table full of dishes. Fish balls, tea-smoked chicken, Longjing shrimp, deep-fried bean curd rolls, braised bamboo shoots, and water shield soup. The table was packed, glistening and fresh, enough to make anyone’s mouth water. “Cai Jiajun’s treat,” he said.

Xu Fei scoffed and sent a picture of his own meal. Marinated crab roe, clams with scallions and ginger, steamed yellow croaker, drunken shrimp, scallops, stir-fried sea snails, and a large bowl of seafood porridge. “Director’s treat,” he said.

There was no reply for a while. Xu Fei and the others finished their meal and returned to the hotel before Liang Xuan finally messaged back. “Don’t eat too much seafood. It causes inflammation.”

Xu Fei burst out laughing. His heart felt warm and soft, like it had been simmered in gentle water. By the weekend, he spoke to the director and made a trip to Dongning Film and Television City.

“I’m in Dongning,” he texted Liang Xuan.

Liang Xuan found him in a section of the film city styled after Ming and Qing architecture. His cheeks were flushed, sweat clung to his temples, and he looked like he had rushed over in a hurry. Xu Fei sat on the steps smoking, watching him approach, the setting sun glaring so bright it clouded his thoughts.

They were just sex partners, he reminded himself. That was all they were.

But Liang Xuan’s eyes were too bright, too sincere, too genuine. When he sat down beside Xu Fei, their arms brushing, Xu Fei realized he was completely hopeless. This wasn’t a good direction, he thought. Still, he stayed there, sitting quietly with Liang Xuan as the golden-red glow of dusk spread across the sky.

That night, they had sex in Liang Xuan’s hotel room. Liang Xuan caressed the wings on his chest, then lowered his head to kiss the chubby yellow sparrow inked into his shoulder.

“Someone in our crew has a lot of tattoos too,” he told Xu Fei. “Right across the chest and stomach. A full panel, all in color.”

“I’ve been wanting to get some color done too,” Xu Fei said. He shifted, straddling Liang Xuan’s waist, his hand sliding down his chest to rest on his firm waistline.

“Right here. I’ll tattoo a unicorn.”

Liang Xuan raised an eyebrow at him. Xu Fei pulled a face and said, “What? Are you judging me for being too gay at a time like this?”

The next day, Xu Fei flew back to Yushan. That night, Liang Xuan sent him a message with a picture of a little purple pony. “You mean this kind of unicorn?” he asked.

Xu Fei laughed until he collapsed on the bed. “I didn’t know you watched My Little Pony. I misjudged you, Liang Xuan.”

Sometimes, Liang Xuan would send him random photos. Like the soft orange glow of dawn, the empty streets of the film city late at night, or even two dogs humping on the side of the road. Xu Fei returned the favor with photos of fish and shrimp swept ashore during high tide in Yushan, the lighthouse standing tall at the harbor in the early hours, and a bird taking a dump on someone’s head.

“Don’t embarrass yourself trying to compete with a professional photographer,” he told Liang Xuan. “And why’d you take that dog pic anyway? They were having a good time. You totally killed the mood.”

Liang Xuan didn’t reply, but a few days later, he sent another batch of dog mating photos. Xu Fei had no idea why Dongning had so many horny stray dogs.

At the end of September, the crew wrapped up filming in Yushan and headed to Dongning. Coincidentally, the set of The Mist was nearby, and it was the first time many of the young actors were this close to a big celebrity.

Xie Qinqin, the actress playing opposite Xu Fei, was a fresh graduate. She was focused and responsible while filming, but once off set, her bubbly nature took over. When she heard Liang Xuan was working next door, she slipped into Xu Fei’s trailer.

“Are you and Liang Xuan friends?” she asked, blinking her big, watery eyes. “Can you help me get a photo with him?”

Xu Fei felt his scalp go numb under her stare. He gave in and messaged Liang Xuan. “Got a fan who wants a photo with you.”

“Who?” Liang Xuan replied.

“The girl I’m acting with,” Xu Fei said. “You on set right now?”

He brought Xie Qinqin over to visit. Liang Xuan was in his trailer, removing makeup. When he saw Xu Fei, he looked a little surprised. “I thought you were still in Yushan.”

“Just got here a couple days ago,” Xu Fei replied casually and introduced Xie Qinqin. “This is her.”

Xie Qinqin turned shy the moment she saw her idol, fumbling as she pulled out a Polaroid camera. Luckily, even though Liang Xuan usually came off a bit distant, he knew how to greet fans with a smile and small talk when needed, especially since everyone here was in the same circle. After taking one photo with him, Xie Qinqin loosened up a little. When she saw Xu Fei standing to the side like a statue, she called out to him. “Come take one with us, Fei-ge.”

“Fei-ge?” Liang Xuan gave Xu Fei a half-smile.

Xu Fei ignored him and said to Xie Qinqin, “Why would I join the fun?”

“Come on, just take one.” Xie Qinqin blinked again. “Please, Fei-ge.”

Xu Fei couldn’t say no. He shuffled over reluctantly. Xie Qinqin called a nearby assistant to help take the photo of the three of them. When the picture printed, she fanned it eagerly, took a look, then frowned. “Fei-ge’s eyes are squinting.” She dragged him back for a few more takes.

“Liang Xuan’s probably sick of this,” Xu Fei said, trying to throw him under the bus.

But Liang Xuan said, “Not at all,” and even asked Xie Qinqin for a copy. “Give me the one where Xu Fei’s eyes are squinting.”

Xu Fei wanted to kick him.

Xu Fei’s crew stayed in Dongning for over a month. On weekends, when they had free time, the two of them would go out together. Sometimes they played Chinese chess in the park beside the film city, like a pair of retirees. Other times, they met at five in the morning to go jogging, their feet crossing the artificially aged stone paths still wet with dew. Occasionally, they would sleep together, quietly sneaking off to remote motels outside the city. The rooms always smelled faintly of bleach. But neither of them cared.

Xu Fei didn’t care.

He knelt on the floor and gave Liang Xuan a blowjob. Liang Xuan’s fingers gripped his hair and then loosened, stroking over his scalp, ears, and cheeks. Xu Fei opened his mouth wide, took Liang Xuan’s cock deep into his throat, then pulled back and ran his tongue over the slit at the tip. Liang Xuan panted and pulled him up to kiss him. Then he turned Xu Fei around, pressed him against the wall, and began kissing down the back of his neck.

He dropped to his knees, grabbed Xu Fei’s ass with both hands and opened his mouth to gently bite the flesh. Xu Fei moaned, his hips rocking forward and back. Liang Xuan held him down firmly, tongue trailing between his cheeks and pushing into his soft entrance.

“Liang Xuan,” Xu Fei gasped his name. Liang Xuan’s tongue pushed harder inside, licking until Xu Fei was crying out in a low, desperate voice, his hole clenching in waves. Liang Xuan pulled his tongue out and gave that poor, twitching rim a soft bite. He buried his face between Xu Fei’s cheeks and sucked noisily.

“Why are you so tight?” he asked, slipping two fingers inside as he spoke.

Xu Fei was already dazed from being fingered. They had done this so many times that Liang Xuan had become intimately familiar with every part of his body. It felt like the moment Liang Xuan laid a finger on him, even the lightest touch could set off a wave of arousal. Xu Fei bit his lip and came just as Liang Xuan thrust into him.

By November, both their crews had wrapped and left Dongning. Xu Fei returned to Pinghai while Liang Xuan flew to Milan to shoot a campaign for Emporio Armani. Xu Fei joked, “Can Armani custom-tailor me a suit?” Liang Xuan replied, “I can send you a postcard.” It made Xu Fei grind his teeth in frustration.

A few days later, a postcard actually arrived. The front was a street view of Milan. On the back, Liang Xuan had written, “Happy National Day,” and drawn a crooked, childish little suit with colored pens.

Liang Xuan messaged, “Did the postcard arrive?”

“It did,” Xu Fei replied. “Thanks. I’ve got something for you too.”

He cut pieces from a newspaper and arranged them into a giant cock-shaped collage, then mailed it to Liang Xuan’s house.

At the end of the year, Liang Xuan returned to the country. He had obviously received Xu Fei’s gift, because he sent a smiling emoji on WeChat.

Xu Fei wasn’t the least bit scared of him. On New Year’s Eve, he went out drinking with Fu Zichuan as usual. He came home in the early hours of the morning, just kicked off his shoes when he heard a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” he slurred and stumbled to open it. Liang Xuan stood there, hands in his coat pockets, back straight, looking at him.

Xu Fei took a step back, “What are you doing here?”

He let Liang Xuan in and turned toward the kitchen to pour himself some water. Liang Xuan followed him in. Just as he finished drinking, Liang Xuan suddenly pressed him against the kitchen counter. Xu Fei was startled, sobered up almost instantly, and stared at him.

“What are you doing?” Xu Fei asked.

Liang Xuan smiled. There was a glint in his eyes, something mischievous, almost boyish. Xu Fei had never seen that look on him before.

“A return gift,” he said, pulling out the cock model Xu Fei had made from his pocket.

Xu Fei ended up on his knees, sucking the real thing for nearly half an hour. After that, he was thrown onto the bed and fucked twice in a row, so hard he couldn’t even cum. He clung to Liang Xuan’s neck, let out a few sobs, and angrily bit into Liang Xuan’s shoulder.