TOW Extra 2- Tired Mother

Ever since Liang Xuan came back from filming Southbound, Zheng Hui noticed something had changed about him.

Like the smoking thing. Zheng Hui had just lit a cigarette when Liang Xuan pushed the door open and walked in. Zheng Hui quickly stubbed it out and said, “Wait a sec, I’ll open the window to air it out.” But Liang Xuan said, “It’s fine.”

Zheng Hui raised an eyebrow. He’d signed Liang Xuan when the kid was in his second year of college. They’d known each other for more than five years now. Liang Xuan hated the smell of smoke. There were times Zheng Hui would just touch a cigarette, and Liang Xuan would stare at him until he felt so guilty he had no choice but to put it out. And now he was saying it was fine?

Still, Zheng Hui snubbed the cigarette. “The premiere for Southbound is in two weeks…”

Liang Xuan sat on the sofa, listening. But his expression was distant, his eyes unfocused, clearly off in another world. Zheng Hui cleared his throat, but when Liang Xuan still didn’t respond, he just kept talking to himself.

When Zheng Hui finally mentioned, “All the cast are expected to visit the martyrs’ memorial,” Liang Xuan suddenly looked over and asked, “Everyone’s going?”

“Yeah,” Zheng Hui said. “New Line really going all out with this.”

Liang Xuan nodded, then fell silent again.

After the premiere, Zheng Hui got a call from Liang Xuan.

“I don’t have anything scheduled the next few days, right?”

Zheng Hui checked. “Nope. You’re free.”

Liang Xuan gave a short hum, then said, “I’m taking a friend around Xinjing. If anything urgent comes up, just push it.”

Zheng Hui agreed, then hung up the phone. But his brain was already sounding the alarm. A friend? What kind of friend? Male friend? Female friend?

Liang Xuan was good-looking. He had admirers everywhere. Actresses like Feng Zijun liked stirring up dating rumors with him and probably hoped some of them would become real. But Liang Xuan never played along. In all the years Zheng Hui had known him, he’d never seen Liang Xuan treat anyone particularly differently.

He thought about teasing him a bit. When Liang Xuan dropped by the office a few days later, Zheng Hui casually asked, “How was Xinjing?”

Liang Xuan looked at him with his usual unreadable expression. “It was nice.”

Zheng Hui wasn’t done poking around. “What kind of friend? First time in Xinjing?”

But Liang Xuan didn’t take the bait. Instead, he asked about his upcoming schedule. Zheng Hui gave up on teasing him any further.

Toward the end of the year, there was a commercial event in Pinghai. A domestic brand was launching a flagship store and wanted Liang Xuan to walk the red carpet. Liang Xuan had always politely declined these kinds of gigs. Zheng Hui only asked out of formality. But Liang Xuan said, “It’s in Pinghai?”

“Yeah.” Zheng Hui was surprised. “You’re okay with that?”

Liang Xuan shrugged. “Isn’t it all just making money?” And he really did go. After it ended, he even told Zheng Hui, “I’ve got a friend in Pinghai I want to catch up with. You go back to Xinjing first. Call me if anything comes up.”

Zheng Hui was stunned for a second. On the plane, the thought suddenly hit him. Was this the same “friend” from before?

But he didn’t ask. Liang Xuan was different from most young actors. He had goals, ambition, talent, and was serious about his work. Focused, disciplined. Zheng Hui never worried about him slipping up.

Zhang Jin had also been particularly satisfied with him. For their film Full Throttle, the studio arranged a PR couple agreement. Liang Xuan was always polite to her, did his job, never stepped out of line. In July, when Zhang Jin moved into Liang Xuan’s place for their fake “cohabitation,” he even offered to change the lock on the guest room. “Just in case it makes her uncomfortable.”

Zheng Hui grinned slyly. “Maybe she didn’t want the lock changed.”

Liang Xuan shot him a look. Cold, unimpressed, and entirely characteristic. Zheng Hui shut up and didn’t dare say another crude word.

By October, their contract ended. After the press conference, Zhang Jin hugged him backstage and joked, “I kind of wish we were really together.” Liang Xuan smiled politely, didn’t respond to that, and just said, “Hope we get to work together again.”

Zheng Hui was frustrated. “You’ll never find a partner like this.” Liang Xuan couldn’t be bothered to reply. “The Aerial Rescue crew’s taking a break in two weeks,” he said. “Book me a flight to Pinghai.”

Zheng Hui paused for a second. He glanced at Liang Xuan, but the man’s expression was as calm as ever. “Alright,” Zheng Hui said.

On the day of the break, Zheng Hui personally drove him to the airport. Liang Xuan sat with his back straight, looking out the window, posture perfect as always, though his gaze seemed distant. When they turned a corner, Zheng Hui caught a glimpse of the faint smile at the corner of his lips. It was subtle, but Zheng Hui saw it clearly. His heart skipped a beat.

But when he saw Liang Xuan again, he didn’t seem happy at all. Zheng Hui came by the set to drop off some documents and found Liang Xuan sitting in the lounge, drinking water. His face was cold like someone had punched him in the stomach. Zheng Hui thought something must have happened and tried joking around. “How was Pinghai?”

Liang Xuan looked at him. His gaze was calm, but it made the hairs on the back of Zheng Hui’s neck stand up. He knew he’d said the wrong thing.

There was a moment where Zheng Hui seriously considered digging around to find out who this “friend” in Pinghai really was. If he wanted to, it wouldn’t be hard. He had a rough idea. Probably someone from the Southbound crew. But he was afraid Liang Xuan would find out. And more than that, he was afraid that poking into it would hurt Liang Xuan all over again.

So he held himself back.

In March 2015, New Line organized a Southbound reunion event. When Zheng Hui got the notice, he felt just like a protective mother hen. He didn’t want Liang Xuan to go.

But of course, Liang Xuan went anyway. Not only did he go, he came back acting cheerful all of a sudden. Even people at the agency whispered behind his back, “What’s going on with Liang Xuan lately?” They were clearly confused by the obvious light in his eyes and the growing warmth in his smile.

Did they make up? Zheng Hui wondered, then saw the photos and videos sent over by the organizers. Liang Xuan was sitting next to Li Shanyi, head turned toward the other side, looking at Xu Fei. The hall was noisy. Xu Fei must’ve said something, and Liang Xuan just looked at him and smiled. It was gentle, sincere, and so open that Zheng Hui had never seen him like that before.

Shit, he thought. This is serious.

Liang Xuan became more mellow. He used to be just polite. Now he was soft, approachable. When a young fan asked for a photo, he didn’t keep a stiff face. He smiled, interacted, even joked a little sometimes. Zheng Hui wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

He would sometimes come across fan photos on Weibo. Liang Xuan and Xu Fei eating out. Xu Fei was looking down at the menu while Liang Xuan drank water. Or they were jogging together by the road, no headphones on, Xu Fei turning his face toward Liang Xuan to talk. When Zheng Hui went to the Dongning set to check on Liang Xuan, Xu Fei was there too, filming a B-grade disaster flick called Deep Sea in the next room.

Still, Zheng Hui never asked Liang Xuan about it. He wasn’t the kind of agent who needed to control every bit of his artist’s personal life. If Liang Xuan wanted to talk, if he felt the time was right, he would tell him.

All Zheng Hui felt was happy for him.

But he never expected things to fall apart so fast.

In 2017, at the Jade Dragon Awards, Liang Xuan won Best Actor. Everyone was hyped, crowding around him, dragging him to the after-party. Liang Xuan gave in, saying, “Just two drinks and I’m leaving.” He even told Zheng Hui, “Have Xiao Zhao bring the car around and wait.”

But Zheng Hui had barely taken a few steps to make a call when, in that short time, Liang Xuan had already downed several shots of hard liquor.

He rushed over to support Liang Xuan. The kid was good at everything except holding his liquor. Zhang Jin also came over to help. Seeing Liang Xuan stumbling, she said to Zheng Hui, “There’s a room open upstairs. Why not let him rest for a bit?”

Zheng Hui looked at Liang Xuan, who was swaying all over the place, and sighed. “Alright. Sorry to trouble you.” Together, they helped Liang Xuan up the stairs. Just as they got him into the room, Zheng Hui got a call from Xiao Zhao. He stepped out to answer it. When he came back, what he saw stopped him cold.

Zhang Jin was leaning into Liang Xuan, kissing him by the window. The curtains weren’t even drawn.

Zheng Hui’s head went blank. He stormed in and pulled Liang Xuan away. Liang Xuan groaned and collapsed onto the bed, knocked out cold. Zheng Hui glanced at him, then turned and looked at Zhang Jin. He let out a cold laugh.

“Miss Zhang, that was a real dirty move.”

Zhang Jin shrugged. “I really do like him.”

Zheng Hui asked her to leave. When he turned back, Liang Xuan had his face buried in the blanket, completely out. Zheng Hui sighed, closed the door, and went to contact the PR team.

They managed to pull coverage from a few media outlets, but the next day, a tabloid still leaked the photo, and the internet exploded. Zheng Hui was furious. He argued with Zhang Jin’s agency for days. He asked Liang Xuan, “Didn’t you say she seemed like a decent person?” But Liang Xuan didn’t answer.

He didn’t speak for days.

Zheng Hui watched as he shut down. He still showed up, still worked hard, but barely talked to anyone. Sometimes Zheng Hui caught him staring at his phone, like he was about to send a message or make a call, but in the end, he’d put it down again.

Zheng Hui thought, this is worse than back in 2013.

The Mist Season Two was casting new roles. Hou Yuan brought it up and asked if Zheng Hui knew anyone with a sharp, clever look. Zheng Hui thought for a bit and sent over a copy of Onion, one of Xu Fei’s old films. Hou Yuan was interested. He watched a few more of Xu Fei’s roles and ended up sending his agent a casting invite.

Zheng Hui told Liang Xuan about it. “Director Hou wants Xu Fei to play the troublemaker.”

Liang Xuan froze and looked at him. Zheng Hui quickly lowered his head, pretending to go through paperwork, not daring to meet his eyes.

Sometimes, Zheng Hui really felt like he was Liang Xuan’s mother. Worrying about his life, his work, and his personal matters. The worst part was that he couldn’t even say anything. He couldn’t tell him, yeah, I know you’re madly in love with Xu Fei. He couldn’t say, you looked like death when you two broke up. It gave him this strange feeling, like he’d done everything behind the scenes only to quietly fade away when the curtains closed.

When Liang Xuan finally said, “I want to go public with my relationship with Xu Fei,” Zheng Hui had to act surprised.

“Oh? So it’s him?” He nodded. “You two have always been close. Didn’t expect it to be more than just friends.”

Liang Xuan looked at him.

On January seventh, Liang Xuan went public with the relationship. The world exploded. Media swarmed Zheng Hui like sharks smelling blood. Fans flooded in as well, and the assistant managing Liang Xuan’s Weibo account had to report back constantly. Most of the comments were pure chaos.

“Oh my God!”

“This is amazing!”

“They’re really together???”

“Is this a dream?”

“I’m crying, I’m crying, I’m blessing them with my whole soul!”

“This can’t be real, I need to run a lap downstairs!”

It was like everyone had secretly been hoping for Liang Xuan and Xu Fei to get together. But mixed in were plenty of nasty, homophobic comments that Zheng Hui had to go through one by one to delete.

Late at night, when everything was quiet, Zheng Hui sometimes wondered if he should’ve kept Liang Xuan from doing Southbound. Maybe if he’d never met Xu Fei, Liang Xuan’s life would have stayed calm and smooth.

But then he’d go out to eat with the two of them. Xu Fei would order food for Liang Xuan, tease him, make him eat pig trotters. Liang Xuan never touched heavy dishes like that, but if Xu Fei picked up a piece, Liang Xuan would eat it. Smiling the whole time.

And in that moment, Zheng Hui felt completely fulfilled, just like a proud old mother.