TBSDRA 18: The Perfect Performer

The wrap party was scheduled for that evening. Xu Xishuang and Chi Siyuan, the two leads, each held a bouquet they had just bought that afternoon in the city and posed for a photo together. They then took a few more pictures with the other actors, and finally a group photo with the entire crew.

Xu Xishuang picked a few shots where everyone looked good and posted them on Weibo as part of the film’s promotional push.

To keep things fair, he didn’t @ Chi Siyuan but he tagged the director, assistant director, and every other cast member.

The rest of the crew quickly reposted his update, and even the film’s official account used his post as its promo. Yet of all people, Yan Yushan was the only one who made a separate post of just a photo of Xu Xishuang alone, captioned—“The Yu Xiang in my heart.”

The top comment was a string of exclamation marks, reflecting the sheer shock everyone felt.

The first person in the crew to see Yan Yushan’s post was the makeup artist. She immediately forwarded it to the CP fan group chat.

Makeup Artist: “If you’re still not shipping this, I don’t know what to tell you!!”

Everyone knew Yan Yushan’s Weibo was a dead zone. Even when he did post, it was always half-hearted, with no photos, and clearly written under pressure from his manager.

Yet this time, not only did he post willingly—he even included a photo and not just any photo. It’s a solo shot of Xu Xishuang. What did that mean?

The group chat exploded:

“He loves him so much ahhh!!”

“Is this an official announcement?!!”

The second person to see the post was Chi Siyuan. He noticed some of his fans had run to his page to complain on his behalf, saying Director Yan was biased and even starting to hint at targeting Xu Xishuang with their anger.

Panicked, Chi Siyuan immediately jumped into damage control mode. He showered Xu Xishuang with praise, telling his fans how amazing he was and how much he admired him—leaving them completely stunned.

Chi Siyuan even wanted to post a solo Weibo tagging Xu Xishuang, just like Yan Yushan, but his agent stopped him. Given how sensitive the film’s subject matter was, a little buzz was fine but doing this could easily cause misunderstandings among fans, which would hurt both him and Xu Xishuang.

The agent said, “Xu Xishuang doesn’t seem to have any intention of hyping up a CP with you, right? Then don’t do it either, otherwise he might think you’re just trying to cling to him for attention.”

“Besides, your boy group already has enough CP pairings going on,” The agent bluntly told Chi Siyuan, “Keep the traffic within the team—there’s no need to hand it over to someone else for free.”

Chi Siyuan’s fragile heart was thoroughly shaken.

He couldn’t believe it—was he really just a tool for CP marketing in his agent’s eyes?

While Chi Siyuan was quietly nursing his heartbreak, Xu Xishuang finally saw Yan Yushan’s solo Weibo post.

Xu Xishuang: …

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Why would Yan Yushan skip over the actual shou protagonist, Chi Siyuan, and post his photo instead?

The wrap party was held at their usual hotpot place. Yan Yushan, with typical extravagance, had booked the entire hall. As Xu Xishuang stood from the table, he immediately spotted Yan Yushan placing a drink order.

Phone in hand, Xu Xishuang walked over, showed his screen to Yan Yushan, tapped on the post in question, and gave him a look that clearly said—Explain.

Yan Yushan handed off the drink list to the waiter, then led Xu Xishuang out of the hotpot place and over to the riverside walkway nearby. They sat on a quiet bench.

Xu Xishuang, swatting at a mosquito buzzing around him, frowned and said, “Say what you want. Make it fast.”

He had no interest in sitting here being eaten alive.

Yan Yushan looked at him and said, “I don’t think I ever told you—Yu Xiang and Xia Qinglang from Bitter Summer were based on real people.”

Under the streetlight, Yan Yushan’s profile looked even more defined. Xu Xishuang found himself staring at the small mole on his eyelid, a beat late in replying, “Mm.”

Yan Yushan noticed he was zoning out. He blinked, and the mole on his eyelid flicked with the motion. Xu Xishuang’s gaze followed automatically.

Then he heard Yan Yushan say, “Xia Qinglang was based on my brother.”

Xu Xishuang was truly stunned. Was he even allowed to say that? He couldn’t help being curious—if Xia Qinglang was based on Yan Yushan’s older brother, then who was Yu Xiang based on?

Yan Yushan showed no sign of stopping. He continued, “When my brother was in high school, our family hit a rough patch. He and I had to go back to the countryside and live with our grandparents, and we attended school in a small town.”

“The rest of the story is more or less like the script. My brother met a boy who was just like Yu Xiang—except worse. He had been assaulted by the people who used to bully him,” Yan Yushan’s voice was low and grave. “Back then, there were no laws to protect him. It took my brother a long time to help him climb out of that shadow but because of it, that boy was always deeply insecure. He couldn’t bring himself to accept my brother’s feelings.”

Xu Xishuang’s expression grew more serious as he listened. Yan Yushan went on, “Later, our family issues got resolved, my brother and I went back to the city. He made a promise with that boy that they would go to the same college a year later and live together. He left him contact info, but the boy never reached out.”

Yan Yushan paused. Xu Xishuang had a sinking feeling. He asked quietly, “And then?”

“Then, one day, my brother realized he couldn’t get in touch with him anymore,” Yan Yushan said. “He bought a train ticket back to the town that same day to look for him.”

“The boy had already been dead for several days.”

Yan Yushan lowered his eyes. “Suicide.”

“My brother became withdrawn after that. He never talked about it, but I knew. He was haunted by guilt and regret. He told me once, drunk, that if he’d stayed, maybe that boy wouldn’t have been bullied again, wouldn’t have been beaten by his father, wouldn’t have ended his life.”

“Or,” Xu Xishuang cut in, “maybe he wondered if, had he never come to that town at all—if they’d never met—maybe that boy would’ve just endured it all, and grown up in pain, yes, but still alive.”

That boy had found his sun but it had only stayed for a moment, then disappeared again, leaving him in the dark once more. The contrast was unbearable so he ended it, stepping out of a world that had never given him peace.

“Yeah,” Yan Yushan’s voice was quiet. “Those who hurt him were punished, but my brother never truly moved on. When I switched to directing, this was the first movie I wanted to make. I wanted to give Yu Xiang and Xia Qinglang a better ending.”

“Actually, my family—especially my brother—was against me entering the entertainment industry at first,” he added. “They wanted me to come home and help run the family business so I made a bet with my brother that if I could leave behind a well-received work in every major entertainment field, I could stay in the industry.”

Xu Xishuang thought of Yan Yushan’s many talents and nodded. It made sense now on why he pushed himself so hard, even serving as a boy group mentor

“This movie is our wager and also something I made for him to see,” Yan Yushan said. “Back then, I was in junior high, and my brother was in high school. I only ever caught glimpses of that boy walking beside him.”

He turned and looked straight at Xu Xishuang. “You played the role so well, Xu Xishuang. Sometimes, watching you as Yu Xiang felt like that boy was still alive. You’re the perfect Yu Xiang, exactly as I imagined.”

Here we go again.

Xu Xishuang could even see his own reflection in Yan Yushan’s eyes. At that moment, it was as if Yan Yushan saw no one else but him. They were sitting very close, the evening breeze drifting gently around them, their clothes stirring. Xu Xishuang could even catch the faint and pleasant scent of wood on Yan Yushan.

It was this again, Xu Xishuang thought. Saying things like that, looking at him like that—was Yan Yushan doing it on purpose?

What about those tender morning wake-ups, the meticulous care, the subtle acts of special treatment… Did Yan Yushan not realize that nothing could happen between them? Yan Yushan was supposed to be with Chi Siyuan—wasn’t that how the story was written?

Xu Xishuang lowered his eyes, avoiding Yan Yushan’s gaze, his voice quiet. “Thanks for the compliment. Let’s go back and eat. Xiao Wang will be worried if he can’t find me.”

All of that honesty had only earned him a polite “thank you.” but Yan Yushan wasn’t disappointed. He knew Xu Xishuang didn’t like him. Just the fact that Xu Xishuang could now sit calmly beside him and listen to him talk—that was enough for Yan Yushan.

He stood up and walked back to the hotpot restaurant with Xu Xishuang, the two of them returning one after the other, then sitting across from each other at the table.

What’s summer in August without chilled watermelon? They were regulars at this hotpot place, and tonight they had reserved the entire venue. The owner was grinning from ear to ear, specially preparing plates of ice-cold watermelon cut into neat cubes and serving them to each table.

Xu Xishuang took the floral water spray from Xiao Wang and misted the mosquito bite on his arm. As soon as a tray of watermelon was brought out, he grabbed his chopsticks and, ignoring Xiao Wang’s attempts to stop him, managed to snatch a piece before Xiao Wang could take his chopsticks away.

He ate too fast and winced at the cold, squinting his eyes shut, but there was a smug satisfaction in his expression. He smiled contentedly, like a spoiled, beautiful cat who’d just gotten away with mischief.

Xiao Wang let out a dramatic sigh and shoved the plate of watermelon further away, just out of Xu Xishuang’s reach. Across the table, Yan Yushan caught sight of Xu Xishuang’s smile and couldn’t help smiling himself.