TSBDRA 17: Let’s Not Contact Each Other Anymore

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That brief spell of cool weather seemed like nothing more than a fleeting illusion. By August, the sun blazed so fiercely it set people on edge, the ground scorched hot enough to fry an egg, and even sitting still was enough to work up a sweat.

As the hottest days of summer slipped into their final stage, the Bitter Summer crew also wrapped up most of their filming, ushering in the last day of work.

Lately, Xu Xishuang had grown increasingly lazy. If he could sit, he wouldn’t stand; if he could lie down, he wouldn’t sit. He would nap whenever he had the chance to ease his fatigue.

These days, it wasn’t an alarm clock that woke him in the morning but it was the sound of Yan Yushan opening the door.

No one quite knew what was going on with Yan Yushan. Ever since the day Xu Xishuang refused to get out of bed for breakfast and Xiao Wang had helplessly gone to complain, the director had gotten hold of Xu Xishuang’s room key and now came in personally every morning to supervise his breakfast.

Yan Yushan’s way of waking him up was gentle. He would simply call Xu Xishuang’s name until he stirred from sleep, then place the breakfast beside the bed and sit at the edge, quietly watching him.

Xu Xishuang wasn’t dead—of course he could feel that burning gaze. Even with the blanket pulled over his head, he couldn’t relax under that scrutiny, so he would get up and wash up with gritted teeth.

After freshening up, Xu Xishuang would follow Dr. Xu’s instructions to take a daily photo of his abdomen, tracking the changes in shape and size.

Naturally, this task fell to Yan Yushan. Xu Xishuang only had to stand before the mirror and lift his pajama top slightly to expose his fair, faintly rounded belly.

Once the photo was taken, Yan Yushan would let his gaze linger for two seconds before duplicating the image. One copy sent to himself and the other to Dr. Xu.

Xu Xishuang lowered his shirt, took the phone, and compared the new photo with one from two weeks ago. The bump had grown a little, but still wasn’t very noticeable.

Dr. Xu had mentioned that he wouldn’t show much during pregnancy. If things continued at this pace, even close to term his belly wouldn’t be too obvious. He could always pass it off as weight gain.

Xu Xishuang set the phone down and took the bowl of nutrient porridge from Yan Yushan, puffing out his cheeks as he ate.

When he looked up, he noticed Yan Yushan scrolling through the photo gallery, pausing on the picture of his belly. His finger gently brushed across the screen, tracing the curve with a tender smile in his eyes.

Xu Xishuang suddenly felt irritated for no reason. He shooed Yan Yushan out of the room, warning him to leave before others noticed.

He didn’t realize how much this made them look like two people sneaking around behind others’ backs. After eating, he lazily napped for another ten minutes before yawning and heading to set.

Yan Yushan had arrived early. If nothing went wrong today, they’d be filming the final scene of Bitter Summer—a sequence that followed Yu Xiang and Xia Qinglang’s separation that needed to be shot separately.

Yan Yushan naturally stayed on Xu Xishuang’s side to film Yu Xiang’s life post-separation, while the assistant director went with Chi Siyuan to cover Xia Qinglang’s return to the city.

Xu Xishuang’s scenes were shot in familiar locations—Yu Xiang’s school and his gloomy home. Chi Siyuan, however, needed to move around. First boarding a car, then returning home to meet his parents, attending school in the city, and exploring the urban environment.

Yan Yushan had already booked locations in the nearest city and unceremoniously packed the assistant director and crew off.

In the story, after Xia Qinglang leaves, Yu Xiang sinks into depression for days, on the verge of reverting to his old self. Then, his father returns from the detention center and slaps some sense into him. Standing among broken liquor bottles, Yu Xiang suddenly realizes he can’t go on like this. He doesn’t want to disappoint Xia Qinglang. If there’s ever a chance they reunite, he wants to be someone worth seeing again.

That’s when Yu Xiang truly wakes up. He no longer needs to rely on anyone and isn’t bullied at school anymore. He becomes more confident, hopeful, no longer resigned to ruin.

Later, amid the chaos of senior year, Yu Xiang would still think of Xia Qinglang—the boy who barged into his sweltering summer like a burst of sunlight, pulling him from the mud only to vanish without warning.

Meanwhile, when Xia Qinglang left the town, he sat in the backseat of the car, clutching the window, and staring toward Yu Xiang’s house, wondering what Yu Xiang might be doing.

In the end, he didn’t get to see him. Disappointed, Xia Qinglang boarded the train and, after a nap, woke up back in the city. He returned to a bright, tidy home, reunited with old friends, and for a moment forgot everything from that small town.

As the new school year began, Xia Qinglang entered his familiar campus, took a deep breath, and confidently walked toward the school building.

Sometimes, he would still think back to that town without air conditioning, to the sound of cicadas while doing homework at Yu Xiang’s, to their close, sweat-slicked moments in a cramped room and to that scorching kiss.

That’s where the story ended. It was an open ending, left for the audience to imagine. Perhaps Yu Xiang and Xia Qinglang would meet again in college, become lovers, get married, and live a sweet life. Or maybe they’d never see each other again, each starting new families, only remembering that bittersweet summer when talking about their first loves.

Xu Xishuang wrapped early. The atmosphere was relaxed as everyone buzzed with excitement over the wrap party and debated where to go for a celebratory feast.

Yan Yushan shut off the equipment. He saw Xu Xishuang lounging in the shade beneath a tree, sprawled in a folding chair, sipping from his thermos and chatting lazily with Xiao Wang.

Yan Yushan walked over and sat beside him. Xiao Wang tactfully slipped away. Yan Yushan said, “Happy wrap day.”

Xu Xishuang lifted his eyes and gave a rare, easy smile. “Happy wrap day.”

He no longer looked like someone who would be blown over by a breeze. He had put on a little weight and had a healthier glow, but he was still too thin compared to a proper physique. Yan Yushan couldn’t help commenting, “Eat more. You’re still too skinny.”

“Mm,” Xu Xishuang replied perfunctorily, pushing his wind-mussed hair back to reveal his delicate features.

“Want a haircut?” Yan Yushan asked.

“This is fine,” Xu Xishuang fingered his bangs and said casually, “Once it grows out, I’ll tie it up. Maybe a little bun.”

Yan Yushan pictured it—Xu Xishuang with his hair in a bun. No matter what, he would still look good. He sat silently by his side, turning his head slightly to glance at Xu Xishuang’s hand resting on the armrest that was so pale the veins showed through, like carved jade. At times, it could feel warm—clutching at the sheets in trembling need.

Yan Yushan quickly looked away, knowing he couldn’t stay any longer. He got up and walked off.

Once he was gone, Xu Xishuang sneakily pulled out his phone to watch videos of ducks waddling. After geckos wagging tails and corgis shaking their butts, ducks had become his new favorite. He watched over and over. By the 24th time, a familiar voice called out.

“Senior!” Chi Siyuan leapt off a van, spinning like a top as he ran toward him, shouting, “We’re wrapped! Happy wrap day!”

Seeing him coming with open arms, Xu Xishuang figured he wanted a hug. Just as he was about to refuse—hand hovering protectively over his belly—Yan Yushan appeared and grabbed Chi Siyuan by the collar mid-run, stopping him cold.

Like a chick caught by a hawk, Chi Siyuan looked up, wide-eyed. “Director Yan, did I do something wrong again?”

“Xu Xishuang’s not feeling well,” Yan Yushan said coldly. “Don’t bother him and don’t touch him.”

Chi Siyuan couldn’t understand what “not feeling well” had to do with not being allowed to hug, but one look at Yan Yushan’s face told him loud and clear: disobey, and there would be consequences.

He nodded hastily. Only then did Yan Yushan release him, watching like a hawk as he tiptoed over to Xu Xishuang and sat down obediently in the adjacent chair.

“Happy wrap day, Senior,” Chi Siyuan whispered.

“Happy wrap day,” Xu Xishuang replied.

He met Chi Siyuan’s eyes—guilt and barely hidden affection—and knew the boy still hadn’t stepped out of character. Thinking it over, he suddenly said, “Xia Qinglang.”

Chi Siyuan instantly answered, “Yes?”

Then he realized something was off. Blushing furiously, he stammered, “I…”

“It’s time to drop the role,” Xu Xishuang said seriously. “Chi Siyuan, when you first asked me for advice, you said you wanted to be a good actor—to play more roles and star in great work. That means not trapping yourself in Xia Qinglang’s shell, understand?”

Chi Siyuan stared blankly, then nodded. “I understand.”

“Good,” Xu Xishuang smiled. “Then after the wrap party, let’s stop keeping in touch. It’ll help you move on.”

Xu Xishuang thought that if the protagonist shou never snaps out of it, that’s going to be a problem. He had no intention of stealing Yan Yushan’s love interest, it’s better to nip this in the bud now.

Chi Siyuan panicked, eyes wide with hurt. “Senior!”

Xu Xishuang’s heart was stone. “It’s decided.”

Not far away, pretending to check his phone, Yan Yushan smiled faintly.