Chapter 10 – Sea of People

Jiang Ruo had originally planned to arrange another room for Xi Yufeng.

Assuming that he was too accustomed to being the boss and wouldn’t handle such trivial tasks, Jiang Ruo suggested, “If it’s inconvenient, I can help you check-in?”

Standing at the door, Xi Yufeng said, “There’s no inconvenience. However, if we open another room, it might lead to some unsavory rumors tomorrow.”

Once again, Jiang Ruo fell silent.

After a while, he asked, “How did you know…”

“I heard about it.” There was no need to hide anything, so Xi Yufeng said, “Since it’s my fault, I’ll help you resolve it.”

The production team of “Orioles” had provided standard rooms with two beds for the main actors. Normally, one bed would be used for sleeping while the other would be piled high with belongings.

Jiang Ruo didn’t have much luggage, so there wasn’t much to pile. As a result, the other bed had remained empty, making it convenient for receiving “guests.”

Ten minutes later, Jiang Ruo took out a new towel, gritted his teeth, and handed it to Xi Yufeng. “You can take a shower first.”

Perhaps his expression was too solemn; seeing this, Xi Yufeng couldn’t help but hesitate. “Is this… your towel?”

“It’s new, unused,” Jiang Ruo turned around decisively, trying not to feel pained. “Remember to soak it before using.”

As soon as Xi Yufeng entered the bathroom, Jiang Ruo realized something after the fact — what did “your towel” mean? Did he look like the kind of pervert who would force his personal items onto others?

Xi Yufeng took a quick shower. When he came out, Jiang Ruo had a sullen expression on his face, clearly upset.

It was just a temporary arrangement, so Xi Yufeng didn’t concern himself with the details. He sat down on the empty bed in the standard room and dried his hair with the towel.

In the small space, moisture filled the air, mixed with the sweet scent of fragrance.

Jiang Ruo recognized it — it was the discounted shower gel he had bought from Sister Wang’s supermarket last time.

His eyes wandered to the other bed, and Jiang Ruo saw Xi Yufeng wearing the same clothes he arrived in. Perhaps because he hadn’t fully dried off, his shirt buttons were undone, and his wet black hair hung over his forehead. This added a touch of gentle moisture to his flawless face, softening the coldness that emanated from within.

Just then, Xi Yufeng suddenly turned his head as if sensing something. Jiang Ruo pretended nothing happened, turning away to continue fiddling with the clothes in his hand.

This time, Xi Yufeng didn’t ask, “Have you seen enough?”

When Jiang Ruo came out of the shower, he saw Xi Yufeng leaning against the bedhead, a laptop on his lap, his left hand moving over the touchpad. It seemed he was handling documents.

Wasn’t he supposed to go play golf? Working during the day and night, was this how a CEO managed their time?

He secretly scoffed in his heart but didn’t say anything aloud. Jiang Ruo still felt a sense of responsibility as someone indebted, or rather, as a beneficiary.

He lay down on the bed, half-covered by the blanket, and picked up the thick script to continue reading.

Before he could read a few lines, he heard voices coming from the computer on the adjacent bed.

The person video calling Xi Yufeng was probably his assistant, reporting on work matters.

While Jiang Ruo marveled at the hardships of employees who had to work even at night, he glanced at the screen. There was a somewhat familiar young man, apparently surnamed Shi, who had led him upstairs when Jiang Ruo went to “negotiate” last time.

“How about Rongsheng?” Xi Yufeng asked.

“The contact person there wasn’t satisfied with the new cooperation plan when we spoke this afternoon,” the assistant replied.

“What about those investors?”

“Two of the previously agreed-upon investors are considering withdrawing their investment.”

“Hmm, keep an eye on it.”

…

Jiang Ruo listened for a while before he started yawning.

It was more sleep-inducing than a math class.

He wasn’t sure when he had put the script aside on his pillow. He only vaguely remembered that before his consciousness faded, he heard Xi Yufeng say, “Quiet down.”

Jiang Ruo was always a sound sleeper. Thus, the moment he woke up, his senses returned instantly, allowing him to immediately notice something amiss.

As soon as his eyes opened, his peripheral vision caught sight of a dark shadow beside him. Jiang Ruo nimbly rolled over, quickly reaching for something on the bedside table.

He didn’t find a weapon but touched a hand instead.

A slender, clearly defined hand that could be determined to be beautiful just by touch.

And it was warm.

The rapid heartbeat that he had deliberately ignored hours ago returned, and Jiang Ruo could even hear the sound of blood rushing into his heart.

Time froze momentarily, and it resumed due to a deep voice.

“Do you know who I am?”

Jiang Ruo held his breath for a few seconds before nodding.

Immediately afterward, he noticed the hand he was holding wriggle slightly.

“Aren’t you going to let go?”

Turning on the bedside lamp, Xi Yufeng bent down to pick up a bottle of mineral water from the bedside table.

Jiang Ruo watched him dazedly as he returned to the adjacent bed. Then, he turned his head to look at the digital clock on the bedside table — it was 1:23 AM.

Was he getting up for a drink at this hour instead of sleeping?

Or was the video conference ongoing until midnight?

Xi Yufeng apparently had no intention of explaining. He twisted open the bottle cap and took a sip, wrinkling his brow as if either the taste was bitter or the water was too cold.

Perhaps he had the same reluctant expression when using the cheap shower gel.

After drinking just two sips, he screwed the cap back on and placed it back on the bedside table. At that moment, Xi Yufeng met the straight, unblinking gaze once again.

Receiving a look that seemed to ask, “What do you want?”, Jiang Ruo shrugged. “I thought earlier that rich people like you only drink pure, natural spring water collected fresh on the day.”

Xi Yufeng was speechless.

It was late at night, and there wasn’t much to talk about. Jiang Ruo yawned, pulled the blanket over half of his face, and was about to close his eyes when he heard the person on the adjacent bed say, “I’m not as scary as you think.”

His tone was calm, referring to the incident where Jiang Ruo had grabbed him like a thief.

Perhaps it implied more.

Since it was the other party who initiated the conversation, Jiang Ruo didn’t hold back. With an innocent expression, he said, “How do you know I mistook you for a bad guy?”

There was a hint of audacious arrogance, because he was certain that Xi Yufeng had enough grace not to bother with him.

Indeed, Xi Yufeng didn’t respond and reached out to turn off the last light source.

Shooting was scheduled to begin at eight o’clock the next morning, but Jiang Ruo got up at six. After washing up and tidying up, he went downstairs to the first-floor self-service restaurant. The production team had reserved a time slot, and all members of the crew could enjoy breakfast free of charge.

As soon as he entered, he ran into Director Zhou, who seemed to have been waiting here. Upon seeing Jiang Ruo, he immediately walked over. “So early? Go back and get some more sleep. I’ll have breakfast delivered to your room.”

Jiang Ruo declined, and Director Zhou leaned in to whisper, “Is President Xi uncomfortable staying here? The hotel’s standards are limited, but if there’s anything missing, just tell the production assistants. Even when I’m not around, we mustn’t neglect President Xi.”

Jiang Ruo rolled his eyes inwardly, thinking that it would be best if they were both present and he wasn’t.

On the surface, he maintained politeness. “No discomfort. I think he’s doing well here.”

Hearing this, Director Zhou was relieved, and his understanding expression reappeared. “That’s because you’re here.”

Jiang Ruo was speechless.

What should he do? He really wanted to suggest that he seek treatment at an ophthalmology clinic.

In reality, when Jiang Ruo woke up, Xi Yufeng was already gone from the room.

However, the laptop was still on the bedside table, leading Jiang Ruo to guess that he might come back to retrieve it.

Or perhaps not. Xi Yufeng had assistants and subordinates; why would he personally make the trip?

Moreover, the goal had been achieved. Today, upon arriving at the filming location, everyone looked at Jiang Ruo with much friendlier expressions. Some even showed curiosity about how he had accomplished such a feat.

Tang Jiani was also in Group B today. Before shooting, she pulled Jiang Ruo aside to whisper.

“I heard that your significant other came yesterday?”

Jiang Ruo feigned ignorance. “Which one?”

“Don’t pretend. Director Zhou went to Group A today and interrogated the production staff about who spread the rumors.”

“So Director Zhou is not only responsible for casting but also for discipline.”

“Mainly because this time, the rumors were too outrageous. I wonder who has such a malicious mouth.”

Jiang Ruo also found it strange. A little bit of gossip shouldn’t have escalated to such an extent.

Before he could ponder it further, he suddenly heard the loudspeaker by the stage call for the actors to gather.

Jiang Ruo quickly collected himself and stood up. “I’ll go over now.”

“Go ahead,” Tang Jiani called out using his character’s name. “Brother Fangyuan, good luck!”

On one side, Jiang Ruo immersed himself in filming, while on the other, Xi Yufeng had just left the hospital.

Meng Chao’s mother had fallen ill suddenly the day before and was hospitalized. As a junior member of the Meng family’s long-time acquaintance and bound by an engagement, Xi Yufeng naturally went to visit her.

The doctor said the patient needed rest, so Xi Yufeng didn’t enter the ward. Through the window on the door, he glimpsed Meng Chao’s mother lying flat on the hospital bed, pale-faced, with her eyes closed in rest.

When asked about her condition, Meng Chao, usually carefree and cheerful, showed a rare sign of fatigue. “It’s an old problem. She said she had a dream, and then…” he paused, not finishing his sentence, “she stopped eating and drinking, standing at the front door. By noon, she couldn’t hold on anymore.”

Xi Yufeng knew a little about the Meng family’s past, but he didn’t probe further. After conveying his concern, he left.

Back in the car, he made a call to the familiar dean, asking him to take good care of his friend’s mother. At such times, this was all he could do. Staying there would only cause trouble.

Xi Yufeng had left something in his room at the crew’s hotel in the morning when he received a hurried phone call.

He intended to return, collect it, and leave. But when he was checking out, Director Zhou appeared out of nowhere and mentioned that Group B was shooting a dance scene involving Jiang Ruo, asking whether President Xi wanted to watch.

It was the weekend, and he had no plans for the afternoon, so Xi Yufeng agreed.

Upon arrival, they were about to start shooting. An indoor scene, with three to five camera positions, countless lighting panels, and a dozen or so crew members surrounding the small stage.

Director Zhou wanted to arrange a seat closer for Xi Yufeng, but Xi Yufeng said, “No need, I’ll stay here.”

As soon as he spoke, the spotlight flickered on. Xi Yufeng stood outside the crowd, his gaze swept over everyone’s heads, and landed on the empty stage.

The blank canvas was quickly filled. Jiang Ruo, dressed in white, emerged.

Using the word “swam” was purely because he was so supple, his steps as graceful as a swimming fish.

He was barefoot, revealing a slender ankle, and the veins on his footback could be faintly seen. He danced to the rhythm on the floor, his fair skin turning translucent under the strong lights.

In his memory, ballet dancers usually had sturdy legs, but that wasn’t the case with Jiang Ruo.

His legs were long and evenly proportioned, with smooth lines, so there was none of the cumbersome heaviness of excessive strength. His body was thin, with prominent bones, yet he executed those seemingly difficult moves cleanly and smoothly, without hesitation.

It was the antonym of frailty, appearing fragile but capable of bursting with astonishing power.

Leaping, running, breathing, spinning… with the composure of someone who had been on stage for years and the posture of giving it his all, he indulged in his inexhaustible energy and passion.

Before him was a completely different Jiang Ruo, dancing freely in his own world.

Silence enveloped the surroundings as everyone held their breath spontaneously.

Being on-site was more impressive than watching a video, and Xi Yufeng had already guessed as much.

But he hadn’t expected that the seventeen-year-old Jiang Ruo would be so different from the one he saw now.

From his wild pride to his willingness to push his limits, it was as if he treated his body as a vessel, pouring his soul into it — a reshaping akin to self-destruction.

During the final large leap that resembled a conclusion, Jiang Ruo landed steadily, but after the thud, his body suddenly swayed.

As if drained of strength, a breeze could knock him over.

This premonition became reality in the next second.

Xi Yufeng watched helplessly as he floated like a cloud, swaying in the wind, gently spreading his arms, disappearing from view in an instant.

The story ended, and the entire venue plunged into darkness.

His body moved before his mind could react. By the time he realized it, Xi Yufeng had involuntarily taken a few steps forward.

The staff also rushed over, even though there were foam mats laid under the stage and sufficient safety measures.

Through the narrow gaps, Xi Yufeng saw the white-clad youth supporting himself on the mat, attempting to stand up, only to sit back down again.

His hair was disheveled from the fall, and he brushed it aside casually. He raised his head and said something to the staff nearby, probably “I’m fine” or “It’s okay.”

As he stood up again, Jiang Ruo slowly turned around, his gaze passing over the irrelevant people in front of him, landing on a fixed point.

At the same moment, Director Zhou belatedly shouted “Cut,” pulling everyone back to reality.

Xi Yufeng noticed that Jiang Ruo’s lips were slightly pale, showing a sickly weakness.

Yet his lips curved upward, revealing a nearly reckless smile.

It was a sense of relief after surviving a catastrophe, or the joy after an exhilarating performance — no one could explain it.

Amidst the sea of people and the distance that wasn’t close, the only thing Xi Yufeng could confirm was that his smile was directed at him.