Chapter 45 – Nothing Else Required, Just Love You Once

The movie “Skin” officially started production on the day of the Lantern Festival. The director led the cast and crew in setting up an altar at the filming location, burning incense to pray for a smooth shoot and hoping for success in both popularity and critical acclaim.

The outdoor scenes were set in Sea City, featuring beaches, river views, and small western-style houses, perfectly matching the story’s backdrop of opulence hidden under the smoke and fire of a tumultuous era.

The director was surnamed Zhuang, a Chinese-American who had received a Cannes Palme d’Or nomination last year for a film about an illicit love affair. As a result, whether it was him, industry insiders, or even fans and audiences, everyone had high hopes for this year’s “Skin.”

However, since the announcement of the cast list, discussions about Director Zhuang’s questionable judgment had never ceased.

The reason was simple — the lead actor chosen for the film, Jiang Ruo, was a newcomer. He had only played the second lead in two TV series, and in another yet-to-be-released film called “Cliff,” he had only portrayed a minor role. He wasn’t even a graduate from a formal acting school; his experience of dropping out of a dance academy, despite any hardships or secrets, hardly inspired confidence in his abilities.

These whispers naturally reached the inner circle of the production team. From the start of filming, Jiang Ruo noticed a subtle strangeness in how people treated him. They seemed overly polite, but the politeness felt hollow — it was clear they didn’t believe he deserved the lead role.

Jiang Ruo was mentally prepared for this. He ignored the rumors about him and focused solely on his performance. After all, the only thing that could vindicate him was his acting.

Fortunately, less than half a month after the start of filming, the rumor that he had secured his role through financial backing proved baseless. This happened because the film’s executive director had to leave the production due to an urgent family matter. To avoid disrupting the shoot, the production hired another executive director, surnamed Zhao, named Sen.

It had been almost a year since they last met, and Jiang Ruo nearly forgot about this person. However, this Zhao Sen took the initiative to greet him on his first day on set, saying, “Teacher Jiang, long time no see.”

The oily and insincere smile instantly reminded Jiang Ruo of the days when he was playing a driver.

Recalling how he had been mysteriously fired and hadn’t received a single penny of his salary, Jiang Ruo reluctantly extended his hand to return the handshake. “Long time no see.”

Zhao Sen, however, remembered the humiliation of calling Jiang Ruo to apologize and inviting him back to the set when he heard that Jiang Ruo had become close to Xi Yufeng, only to be ridiculed.

“I didn’t expect that without President Xi’s support, Teacher Jiang could still make it here,” Zhao Sen said with a forced smile. “Seems like you do have some genuine talent.”

After that, the people around Jiang Ruo stopped treating him with that fake politeness.

Instead, Jiang Ruo found it refreshing. When not filming, he could easily mingle with everyone else. Within a few days, he had acquaintances throughout the production, and only he could gather people for board games or mahjong with just a call.

Zhao Sen, however, got more than he bargained for. Frustrated, he tried every trick in the book to trip Jiang Ruo up in other areas.

For instance, he deliberately wrote the wrong times for Jiang Ruo on the schedule, causing Jiang Ruo to arrive late and face Director Zhuang’s wrath. Or he would purposely mix up the shooting order, leading Jiang Ruo to think he was shooting one scene when, right before filming began, he learned it was another. Although he had memorized the lines, it was the wasted effort of building up the right mood for the entire night that hurt most during the actual shooting.

Jiang Ruo had learned his lesson from past impulsive actions. Considering how hard-won this role was, he decided to keep the peace and endure as much as possible.

However, seeing Jiang Ruo bear the insults silently, Zhao Sen became even more aggressive, abusing his power to take personal revenge. During one crucial scene, he misallocated the locations and characters, causing Jiang Ruo to go to the wrong place and nearly disrupt the shooting.

This was an outdoor scene that required shooting based on the weather conditions. Jiang Ruo was an hour and a half late, and the sun was about to set. Director Zhuang flew into a rage, berating Jiang Ruo in front of everyone. Afterward, Jiang Ruo felt increasingly aggrieved as he reflected on the situation, and suddenly stood up to seek Director Zhuang to explain.

Xiao Shen stopped him. “Teacher Jiang, don’t go. We have no evidence. Besides, Director Zhuang hired the executive director because he didn’t want to deal with these trivial matters himself. If you report this, he might think you’re being unreasonable, bringing personal grievances into your work.”

Jiang Ruo was on the brink of losing control. “So we continue to endure until the filming ends?”

“It shouldn’t come to that,” Xiao Shen said. “Someone will take care of him. Let’s just wait a little longer.”

Jiang Ruo thought Xiao Shen was merely consoling him, but within two days, Zhao Sen disappeared from the “Skin” production team without even saying goodbye.

The replacement executive director was a middle-aged woman, gentle and meticulous in her work. On her first day, she reorganized the schedules that Zhao Sen had messed up, causing Director Zhuang to frown. “What was that Zhao guy thinking? Was he trying to cause trouble on purpose?”

With the issue resolved, Jiang Ruo could finally focus on filming again.

Of course, he wasn’t naive. After wrapping up for the day and entering the nanny car, Jiang Ruo directly asked Xiao Shen, “Was it President Xi behind the handling of Zhao Sen?”

Xiao Shen was straightforward and couldn’t lie. Under Jiang Ruo’s penetrating gaze, she confessed after holding out for only a short while. “President Xi asked me how you were doing on the set, so I told him about this.”

Jiang Ruo didn’t react much to this. He propped his chin with his hand and stared blankly for a few minutes before suddenly asking, “Have I indeed started making profits for the company?”

Xiao Shen replied, “According to the year-end financial statements, yes.”

Jiang Ruo said, “Give me Shi Mingxu’s contact information.”

Xiao Shen hesitated. “Shi Mingxu works for President Xi. You can contact President Xi directly.”

“Then who do you work for?” Jiang Ruo seized the opportunity to ask. “Do you listen to him or to me?”

Xiao Shen was immediately at a loss. “I’m sorry, Teacher Jiang. I…”

Jiang Ruo was in turmoil, signaling her to stop. “I know. After all, he hired you.”

Then he took out his phone and opened the contacts list. “I’m going to make a call. Please get out of the car and give me some privacy.”

He was calling Xi Yufeng.

As the long dial tone rang in his ears, Jiang Ruo vaguely remembered that he and Xi Yufeng had almost never talked on the phone. While most of their communication was through WeChat, it was usually him sending messages, and Xi Yufeng rarely replied.

At the time, he hadn’t felt anything strange, but now, looking back, he realized that their relationship had always been one of admiration and condescension, with clear boundaries.

The call was answered after four or five rings. It sounded like he was at a dinner party, and the background was noisy, but the voice was clear. “Wait a moment, I’ll find a quieter place.”

About half a minute later, the cacophony faded away, and Xi Yufeng said, “Okay.”

Now it was Jiang Ruo’s turn to explain why he made the call, but for some reason, ever since he heard Xi Yufeng’s voice, his emotions became even more chaotic, and the carefully prepared script crumbled.

Jiang Ruo decided to cut to the chase. “Zhao Sen, you dealt with him, right?”

There was no intention to hide on the other end, and a quick “Mm-hmm” came in response.

“But we have no relationship anymore,” Jiang Ruo said. “On what grounds did you intervene in this matter? As my former sugar daddy?”

“No,” Xi Yufeng said. “I just wanted to help you.”

Jiang Ruo chuckled. “Oh, then thank you.”

A moment of silence followed.

Jiang Ruo took a deep breath. When he spoke again, he had regained his calm. “You just wanted to help me, so you didn’t ask for my consent and went ahead to offer assistance without discussion. So, in the future, whenever such a situation arises, are you going to help me? Can you help me for the rest of my life?”

“I…”

“You can’t, you have your own path to follow,” Jiang Ruo interrupted him. “I don’t want to hinder you, nor do I need your help… I also have my own path to walk.”

The underlying meaning was clear — I am not walking the same path as you. Instead of maintaining a lingering connection, it’s better to part ways now.

Jiang Ruo didn’t even remember how he hung up the call.

Half an hour later, Jiang Ruo received a termination contract for labor relations and a new labor relations contract from Xiao Shen on WeChat. Both the employer and employee names were left blank.

Xiao Shen had already returned to the car. Jiang Ruo showed her the contracts and asked if she was willing to be hired by him.

“Willing, of course willing,” Xiao Shen nodded vigorously.

They agreed to print out the contracts the next day. In the future, Xiao Shen’s salary would be paid by Jiang Ruo, making her completely subordinate to him as his assistant.

Feeling as if the last shackle on his body had been loosened, Jiang Ruo sent a heartfelt “thank you” to Xi Yufeng via WeChat.

Perhaps back at the dinner party, Xi Yufeng didn’t reply.

Taking advantage of the moment, Jiang Ruo made a clean break: No more contact in the future.

Without waiting for Xi Yufeng’s response, he opened the messaging interface and deleted the contact labeled “Feng.”

He also deleted the phone number. After completing these tasks, Jiang Ruo put down his phone and let out a long sigh.

Sitting opposite him, Xiao Shen was reviewing the electronic contract. Upon encountering a clause she had questions about, she handed over the phone. “Teacher Jiang, about this…”

“Hush — ” Jiang Ruo leaned back in his chair, exhausted, placing his index finger lightly on his lips, facing the vast expanse of night outside the window. “Don’t speak for now. Let me be alone for a moment.”

Jiang Ruo had cleanly severed ties on his side, but on Xi Yufeng’s side, it was only a few days later that he discovered he couldn’t send WeChat messages, realizing he had been blocked.

This was the first time he had experienced something like this. Looking at the red exclamation mark on the screen, Xi Yufeng frowned in confusion. After pondering for a while, he still held his phone and asked the assistant beside him about the situation.

Shi Mingxu glanced over and then looked up to observe Xi Yufeng’s expression, hesitating before saying, “It seems the other party has blacklisted you.”

Xi Yufeng’s already gloomy face turned extremely ugly.

He asked coldly, “What’s the deal with the three hundred thousand deposit? Did you give him my account number?”

Shi Mingxu was startled. “No, Mr. Jiang contacted me for your account number before, but I told him I didn’t know your personal account number.”

Nevertheless, the money was still transferred over, or rather, it was returned. The timing was almost the same; last year, around the beginning of spring, the two had engaged in a physical relationship due to an unexpected incident. Later, when Jiang Ruo invited Xi Yufeng to meet, Xi Yufeng gave him three hundred thousand yuan without hesitation.

At that time, Jiang Ruo wrote down his name and ID number, saying he would repay the money as soon as possible.

In a year, it had indeed been swift.

This three hundred thousand yuan had witnessed the beginning of their entanglement and now also witnessed their separation. Its significance far exceeded that of a mere sum of money or a number.

Xi Yufeng understood Jiang Ruo’s intentions.

— I have nothing else required, just loved you once, and now I want to leave with a clear conscience.

But the intricacies of human relationships were not as simple as borrowing and repaying.

On March 23rd of the Gregorian calendar, Zhou Xinyao and Director Liu’s wedding was held in Feng City. When receiving the invitation, Xi Yufeng hadn’t taken it seriously. He generally avoided such occasions, believing that sending a gift was sufficient.

But after receiving a phone call, he changed his mind and had Shi Mingxu cancel his engagements on Saturday evening.

Even so, Xi Yufeng was still late that day.

Recently, there had been many issues at the company. Additionally, because he transferred one-fifth of his shares to Meng Lan some time ago, several veterans who had fought alongside Xi Chengli were voicing their discontent. They were discussing convening a shareholders’ meeting to clearly appoint someone as the group’s executive president. Xi Chengli had not opposed this.

During times of turmoil, one had to act cautiously. Xi Yufeng had been working tirelessly without rest for days. Apart from dealing with official business, he also needed to win hearts and minds.

On Saturday afternoon, after playing a few rounds of cards with the senior executives, it was already dark.

Traveling by car to the hotel where the wedding banquet was held, when he was led into the banquet hall by the emcee, the vast space filled with over thirty round tables was nearly packed with guests.

Almost the moment he stepped inside, Xi Yufeng caught sight of Jiang Ruo.

He sat in a seat slightly off-center in the middle, wearing a well-tailored silver-gray suit, with a glass containing a colored beverage in front of him.

Presumably, it was because he was still filming and had to rush back to the set after the banquet, so he couldn’t drink alcohol.

Two months apart, his hair had grown a bit longer, possibly due to filming requirements — after all, he was portraying a seductive character.

Xi Yufeng had read the script for “Skin.” It told the story of a young man who, after experiencing the fall of his family and the dispersal of his parents, became isolated and destitute. Lacking the means to support himself, he had to sell his body, moving between countless men and women captivated by his beauty, seeking a place to live in peace.

Initially, Xi Yufeng hadn’t believed Jiang Ruo was suitable for this role. Allowing him to audition was more of a laissez-faire attitude, wanting to see how far he could go on his own.

But now, Xi Yufeng realized he was wrong.

In just two months, Jiang Ruo seemed to have undergone a transformation. He went from a boy who would sweat nervously whenever he entered a crowded venue to a young man who could wear a smile and handle himself calmly amidst the glitz and glamour.

So many people were watching him, but he didn’t show any signs of fear. When someone raised a glass to talk to him, he would raise his drink in response. Chen Muxin sat to his left, occasionally leaning in to whisper to him. Whatever he said caused Jiang Ruo’s lips to curve upwards, his smile as bright and beautiful as spring flowers.

And when his gaze inadvertently swept through the crowd, colliding with that strong, persistent gaze that had been fixed on him, Jiang Ruo was momentarily stunned. Then, he nodded toward the direction Xi Yufeng was in.

His smile was faint, a polite distance, no different from those he gave to others who approached him.

No one could accurately determine how much of this change was because of the influence of the character and how much was because of his newfound freedom of body and soul.

Xi Yufeng only felt a sense of urgency, as if he had to act quickly or he would lose him.