TF01 120 (Final)

The original wrap date was postponed by two days due to an unexpected event.

A film previously co-starring Ying Ming and Wang Yiqi had won an award at an international film festival. Although the prize itself wasn’t particularly major, it still stirred a small wave of excitement in the entertainment industry.

Ever since his relationship with Shi Yi had been forced into the spotlight, any film even vaguely touching on queer themes would inevitably drag Ying Ming’s name into the conversation. Naturally, this award could not pass without comment. For several days, major entertainment outlets ran continuous coverage, some claiming it was a recognition of Ying Ming’s acting and emotional depth, while others argued that Ying Ming’s performance only seemed better than Wang Yiqi’s because of his real-life understanding of homosexuality, and that he had not truly pushed himself creatively.

But in the end, all of it amounted to nothing more than chatter over dinner. Neither Ying Ming nor Wang Yiqi paid much attention to it.

The award ceremony had been held overseas. Both of them, along with the film’s director and producer, had flown out to attend. Neither Ying Ming nor Wang Yiqi went on stage to receive the award themselves, but during the media session afterward, a number of outlets asked specifically to interview Ying Ming. They were particularly curious about his personal life.

His agent asked him if he was willing. At first, Ying Ming had no intention of doing it, but when Wang Yiqi pointed out that the exposure might help the film they were currently working on, he hesitated, then agreed.

It had been years since he last accepted an interview.

Ying Ming had never been the type who liked answering questions. Even as an actor, which inevitably meant dealing with the media, every reporter who knew him well was aware that interviews were never something he enjoyed.

This was especially obvious in one-on-one interviews.

Still, this was international press. Compared to interviews back home, Ying Ming felt more at ease. The interviewer had done background research and asked many questions about his previous work, especially about the period when he had temporarily shifted away from acting. For the first time, Ying Ming spoke openly about that phase of his life.

“So you’re saying it wasn’t absolutely necessary for you to take that kind of role at the time?”

“Yes.”

“Many actors hold very high standards for the kind of work they choose. Were you not afraid that audiences wouldn’t accept it?”

“Actors fall into many different types. I started out in a position that was already higher than most, but whether in terms of appearance or psychological readiness, I was not fully prepared. For me, the most important thing is to maintain a working state. Of course everyone wants to act in great projects, but that’s not something you can always control.”

“So this current film, was it something you actively chose, or were there other reasons?”

“It was recommended to me, actually. But I thought the script was very strong. After I met the director, I decided to take the role.”

“Your performance was excellent.”

“Thank you.”

Ying Ming kept his smile relaxed. The acting itself had not been awarded. Only the film, which received Best Foreign Language Feature. The director had gone up to accept it. From the actors’ perspective, the recognition had mostly come from critics and the media. Even the general public reaction had been relatively mild.

Perhaps it was because the subject matter was more niche, and attention had never been especially high.

The interviewer smiled and gave a small nod, then flipped through the stack of prepared questions in his hand. “The next question, Mr. Ying, you are absolutely free to skip if you prefer not to answer.”

That warning already told Ying Ming what was coming.

“Go ahead,” he said.

“Regarding this film, did you find yourself bringing elements of your real life into the role?”

The reporter had phrased the question rather gently. Ying Ming gave a small smile. “I understand what you mean. But when I played that role, I honestly didn’t know what it meant to love someone of the same sex.”

“Oh? Would you be willing to elaborate on that?”

“I prefer not to talk too much about my personal life. All I can say is that the character I played was someone created by the screenwriter and the director. He has nothing to do with me. I don’t bring my personal life into my roles, because the one I need to convince is the audience, not myself. I don’t need validation.”

“But I think a lot of people are very curious about your relationships.”

“Then I can only thank them for the concern. I’m doing well right now.”

After that, Ying Ming refused to entertain similar questions. The reporter tried repeatedly to steer the conversation back toward that topic, but each time, Ying Ming skillfully diverted it. By the end of the interview, the reporter gave a somewhat exasperated sigh.

“I’ve interviewed a lot of celebrities, but I rarely meet someone like you.”

It was not that he was uncooperative, but rather that he drew the line with striking clarity.

Ying Ming only smiled and gave no reply.

Later, the interview was reprinted by several domestic outlets. Shi Yi came across the text version. Ying Ming’s responses carried that signature tone of his, and Shi Yi could not help but laugh halfway through reading it. That one line, “Thank you for the concern, I’m doing well,” made him laugh out loud in front of Ou Yang and several other colleagues.

Everyone at the office looked confused. “President Shi, what’s so funny?”

Shi Yi waved it off. “Nothing. Carry on.”

Only Ou Yang seemed to guess the truth. His boss’s sudden, unexplained good mood clearly had nothing to do with work. He tapped the table lightly. “Could you maybe focus during meetings? And if you’re going to daydream, at least keep it discreet.”

“My bad. Let’s get back to it.”

Shi Yi shut the laptop and forced his attention back to the document in front of him, doing his best to suppress the smile still lingering on his lips.

If he hadn’t been searching for a data figure just now, he wouldn’t have stumbled across the interview at all. But once he saw it, he couldn’t help reading a few lines.

Most people at the company probably already knew about his relationship with Ying Ming, but since Shi Yi was the boss, no one dared to touch something so personal. Other than the occasional teasing from Ou Yang, no one brought it up.

After they wrapped up the planning meeting, as everyone was leaving, Ou Yang made a point to pull Shi Yi aside. “Your uncle called me this morning. He told me to remind you that he’s arranged a dinner this weekend. You’re expected to attend.”

“He couldn’t call me himself?”

“Probably still pissed.”

Getting Chen Cheng to accept reality was probably harder than climbing a mountain.

Shi Yi lifted a brow. “Alright, got it. I’ll reach out to him later.”

“How’s your mom doing lately?”

“Better than before. My aunt’s been staying with her. They go out often, and it helps her mood a bit.”

Shi Yi clearly didn’t want to talk about his mother. When Ou Yang tried to ask a few more questions, he shut it down. At that moment, a call came in, and Ou Yang took the hint and left the office.

Once he was alone, Shi Yi reopened his laptop and tried searching for the video version of Ying Ming’s interview, but it wasn’t available online.

He checked the time. After finishing a call with a client, he dialed Ying Ming’s number.

The phone was off. Ying Ming was probably still on set.

Shi Yi ended the call with a quiet sense of disappointment, then leaned back in his chair and rubbed his neck. He closed his eyes and let the emotion wash over him, a slow, steady wave of longing that had crept in again, stronger than before.

After that conversation with Ying Ming’s mother, it seemed something had shifted. At the very least, Ying Ming told him that since then, neither of his parents had brought up separating or pushing for marriage again. The last time he spoke with them, his mom had just been grumbling about neighborhood gossip and minor conflicts, then reminded him to quit smoking. She said nothing else.

Even if the change in attitude was subtle, it still made Shi Yi feel genuinely happy. His own family situation remained difficult, but at least things were starting to move in the right direction.

It was already late by the time he finished sorting the last of his paperwork. He decided to call it a night and leave the office.

The drive was familiar. When he arrived at Ying Ming’s place and opened the door to that warehouse-style apartment again, his mood felt oddly complicated.

Nothing inside had really changed. Ying Ming’s space was small and self-contained. Even the posters from before were still up. As soon as Shi Yi stepped in, Smoke Ring darted over without a sound and immediately swiped at him.

He tried to dodge, but it was too late. He scooped the cat up by the scruff of the neck and aised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t your dad dump you with Haozi? Isn’t he worried you’ll starve here while he’s off on set?”

Smoke Ring’s only response was another swipe. Shi Yi tossed it aside, shut the door, and walked over to the couch. He flipped through the stack of magazines and scripts on the coffee table before finally sitting down.

Everything here carried Ying Ming’s presence.

The scripts had notes in the margins and highlighted lines throughout. Shi Yi could easily picture Ying Ming curled up in the corner of the sofa with his glasses on, reading with a slight frown, pausing now and then to underline something, his expression completely serious.

Usually, Ying Ming’s face always carried a casual smile, but in moments like those, the sharp lines of his features stood out most clearly.

Shi Yi wandered the living room for a bit, then headed upstairs. When he opened the bedroom door, he froze.

The once-empty wall above the bed now had a small shelf nailed to it. A decorative light was embedded into the frame, and hanging from the pole of the lamp was a necklace.

Even without walking closer, he knew what it was. It was the military tag he had given Ying Ming.

The soft silver gleam of the metal reflected the warm light in the room. It should have looked cold, but somehow it felt warm. Shi Yi furrowed his brow slightly, then pulled off the necklace he was wearing and walked over to hang his own tag beside it.

Smoke Ring suddenly appeared again, pawing at the hem of his pants to voice it displeasure at the intrusion.

But Shi Yi remained still, staring at the two tags hanging side by side, unmoving for a long time. A single line surfaced in his mind. It doesn’t matter where home is. What matters is that you’re there.

His phone rang just then.

It was Ying Ming.

The moment Shi Yi answered, he felt a faint ache in his chest.

Ying Ming’s voice was clear on the other end. “You tried calling me earlier?”

When his phone was off, it would still notify him of missed calls by text.

Shi Yi smiled faintly. “Guess where I am right now.”

“At this hour, you’re either at the office or at home. Don’t tell me you’re standing outside my door.”

He had pulled that trick before, but Ying Ming knew it was unlikely. Shi Yi had said himself how overloaded he was lately.

Shi Yi mentally translated that response into three words. You missed me.

He arched his brow and gently nudged Smoke Ring away from his foot.

“You’re right. I’m home.”

“Did you call earlier for something?”

Ying Ming clearly did not give much thought to what Shi Yi meant by “home.” He had just gotten back to the hotel from set and had not even eaten yet.

Shi Yi lay back on the bed, eyes fixed on the two military tags hanging together above him. “Ying Ming, do you think a lifetime is long?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Ying Ming was quiet for a moment before finally replying, “What’s wrong with you, asking something like that in the middle of the night?”

“Let’s spend our whole lives together.”

Shi Yi raised his hand and gently closed his fingers around the tag. His voice remained light, with a faint smile. “Let’s stay together all the way until 2401.”

This time, Ying Ming responded quickly. “Even if it’s late, don’t forget to take your medicine.”

Shi Yi said nothing more. On the phone, only the sound of their breathing could be heard, clear and steady.

Even if he hadn’t said it aloud, Shi Yi knew Ying Ming would have understood anyway.

That kind of certainty did not need any explanation.

In different places, with phones pressed to their ears, the two men lay beneath the same night sky. Though separated by distance, they each pictured the other’s face, and without realizing it, they both smiled.

Morning was close.