TSBDRA 41: Fetal Movement

……

The script reading sessions lasted for about a week and proved highly effective.

With everyone contributing ideas, the script became more refined. The cast grew more familiar with their lines and with each other, so by the time shooting officially began, the atmosphere on set was harmonious.

Everyone knew that Xu Xishuang wasn’t in great health, so the crew had specially prepared a designated rest area for him. Whenever he wasn’t in a scene, he would rest with the director under the equipment tent.

Xu Xishuang took a cup from Xiao Wang and slowly drank half of it. At that moment, Yan Yushan had just finished a shot and walked over, naturally sitting beside him. He unscrewed his thermos and topped off Xu Xishuang’s cup with warm water, reheating what had started to go lukewarm.

Xu Xishuang held the cup and was just about to lower his head when he felt someone watching him.

There it was again.

He looked up immediately and met the gaze.

Yan Yao hadn’t expected to be caught in the act. She hastily looked away, pretending she hadn’t been staring, and even tried to cover it up by saying something to Qu Yue beside her. Qu Yue turned to her, completely baffled, unable to follow the thread of what she had suddenly blurted out.

Xu Xishuang stared for a few seconds, then looked away.

Filming had been underway for half a month now, and during that time, Xu Xishuang had often felt someone watching him. At first, he hadn’t thought much of it—after all, there were plenty of eyes on him in the crew. He knew his looks drew attention, and people were visual creatures. He received appreciative stares every day.

But there was something off about one particular gaze. It wasn’t malicious, but it makes him unsettled. So he began narrowing it down. Eventually, he ruled out most suspects and pinned it on Yan Yao.

After observing her for a few days, Xu Xishuang realized that Yan Yao didn’t just watch him—she also watched Yan Yushan. Especially when he and Yan Yushan were near each other, her gaze became particularly intense.

Yan Yao wasn’t very talkative, but she was always watching him and Yan Yushan with a strange expression, like she was thinking thoughts that wouldn’t pass a content filter.

Xu Xishuang began to suspect that Yan Yao had discovered something and maybe she had figured out his relationship with Yan Yushan. He had wanted to confront her, but he hadn’t caught her red-handed.

Until now.

Xu Xishuang set down his cup, walked around behind Yan Yushan, and headed toward Yan Yao.

Qu Yue noticed him first and quickly stood up to greet him. “Hello, Senior Xu.”

Although Xu Xishuang had told them during their first meeting to just call him by name, Qu Yue and Luo Huai still insisted on using “Senior Xu.” Only Yan Yao, who had debuted around the same time as he had, called him “Xishuang.”

Xu Xishuang smiled. “Hello.”

Hearing his voice, Yan Yao stiffened. She slowly turned around, face taut, and greeted him, “Xishuang.”

Qu Yue asked, “Senior, did you need something? Are we going over the script?”

“I want to ask Yan Yao a few questions,” Xu Xishuang said to Qu Yue. “Mind if I borrow her for a bit?”

Qu Yue nodded quickly. “Of course! Go ahead!”

Yan Yao felt like her whole body had gone numb. She was sure now that Xu Xishuang had caught her watching him and had come to settle the score. What should she say? Tell the truth? Would she get scolded?

Refusing would make things even more suspicious. So Yan Yao awkwardly followed Xu Xishuang to a quiet corner of the set, nearly stumbling from nerves.

It was a “quiet” corner, but they were still visible to the rest of the crew—just out of earshot. Xu Xishuang maintained a safe, gossip-proof distance and softly asked, “I noticed you’ve been watching me a lot lately. Is there something you want to say?”

A direct counterattack, smooth and to the point. Classic cat-like personality. Yan Yao thought to herself. She knew she couldn’t dodge this anymore and forced a bitter smile. “I… I’m actually a fan of yours. There’s no rule saying fans can’t look at their idols, right?”

Xu Xishuang: …

That answer was expected, but not what he was looking for. He felt she wasn’t telling the truth, so he pressed on, “Then why were you staring at Yan Yushan too?”

“Because I’m also a fan of Yan-ge. And he’s my boss. Keeping an eye on the boss’s whereabouts—it’s part of the good-employee code,” Yan Yao said, closing her eyes like she was bracing for a crash.

There was nothing he could call out as a lie, but Xu Xishuang didn’t want to leave empty-handed. So he asked directly, “Do you think there’s something going on between me and Yan Yushan?”

Yan Yao’s eyes widened in shock.

She quickly realized that her reaction was basically a confession and tried to cover it up with a different expression but Xu Xishuang had already seen enough. He had his answer.

But before he could say anything, Yan Yao suddenly bowed deeply and blurted out an apology, “I’m sorry! I know you’re just friends, but you two are seriously too shippable, sob. As a CP fan, it’s so hard not to stare!”

She really hadn’t meant to fangirl right in front of the subjects themselves, but now that she was being interrogated, she had no choice but to confess!

Xu Xishuang: …?

Whose CP fan? Him and Yan Yushan?

Yan Yao straightened up, glanced at Xu Xishuang’s face, and saw that he didn’t seem angry. She cautiously continued, “I’ve been shipping you since ‘Bitter Summer.’ But I’ve never drawn any NSFW fanart or written anything explicit…”

“I get it,” Xu Xishuang interrupted, ears turning red. “You don’t need to say more.”

Yan Yao swallowed the line she was about to say—“I’ve just made a ton of edits of you two”—and clutched her online alias tightly in her heart. “I promise I’ll try not to stare so much during filming. But… Can I still ship you guys? Quietly?”

Xu Xishuang paused. “Who you ship is your choice.”

That was basically a silent acceptance of her behavior. Yan Yao was overjoyed inside. Of course the CP she shipped would be this good—they were the perfect match! Xu Xishuang was just a tsundere cat on the outside, but deep down, he was so soft and gentle!

Yan Yao solemnly promised again, “I won’t tell anyone I’m shipping you two!”

Xu Xishuang nodded. “Okay, go back. If anyone asks what we talked about, just say… we discussed the script.”

Yan Yao nodded enthusiastically. “Got it, got it!”

She happily followed Xu Xishuang back to the crew. She watched as he returned to Yan Yushan’s side. The moment he did, Yan Yushan said something and judging by his lips, he’s probably asking what that was all about.

Yan Yao forced herself to look away, expression blank but heart giddy.

Back in his seat, Xu Xishuang didn’t want Yan Yushan to know about Yan Yao’s CP obsession, so he simply said, “We were discussing the script.”

Yan Yushan frowned slightly but said nothing.

The next scene was Xu Xishuang’s. A makeup artist gave him a quick touch-up and fixed his hair before he headed to set.

The scene was part of an ongoing investigation by Yan Yushan’s character. In it, Chen Muzhou nearly had his identity exposed. He didn’t know yet that one of his subordinates involved in smuggling had defected.

That subordinate had been caught by the special operations team during a previous smuggling job, but after some deliberation, they had decided to temporarily let him go. They told him that if he could lead them to the mastermind, they would consider reducing his sentence.

Chen Muzhou had begun to suspect this subordinate, so he came in person while wearing a mask to assess the situation.

He quickly picked up on the subordinate’s odd behavior, ordered his men to destroy any surveillance devices, put on gloves, and calmly executed the traitor with a single shot.

The special ops team realized something was wrong only after hearing the gunshot. They rushed in but were a step too late—Chen Muzhou was already gone.

The rest of that scene involving the team would be filmed tomorrow, so today, director Cheng Tianwen only needed shots with Xu Xishuang and the extras. He called out, “Xiao Xu, let’s try to get this in one take!”

“To all extras—stay sharp!” Cheng bellowed. “Let’s wrap this scene and go eat!”

The camera rolled, and Xu Xishuang instantly slipped into Chen Muzhou’s persona. He sat lazily atop the table while facing the tied-up traitor, legs crossed, sneering down at the destroyed surveillance gear.

The traitor, bound and gagged, shivered at the sound of his laughter.

Without looking at him, Chen Muzhou adjusted his black mask, then slowly pulled out a pair of black gloves and slid them onto his elegant, pale hands.

The leather clung tightly, hiding his fingerprints. He flexed his wrists, satisfied, and held out a hand. One of his men promptly placed a gleaming gun in his palm.

The bound traitor thrashed harder, eyes wide with terror, silently pleading for his life.

But to Chen Muzhou, this struggle was nothing more than pre-kill entertainment. He watched the trembling man with mild interest, pressed the muzzle under the man’s chin, smiled as the shaking intensified, then casually stepped back and pulled the trigger.

Blood splattered at his feet. Chen Muzhou frowned slightly in distaste, hopped down from the table, tossed the gun aside, and snapped his fingers. A subordinate handed him a lighter.

Per the script, Xu Xishuang was supposed to toss the lighter onto the set’s pre-poured gasoline, igniting it before leading his men out—destroying all evidence. The props team would then step in to swap the actor with a dummy.

Director Cheng wanted this done practically, no CGI. Everyone was tense, aiming to get it right in one go to avoid burning down the carefully built set multiple times.

But just as Xu Xishuang took the lighter, his hand suddenly trembled violently. Snap—he shut the lighter off, then instinctively pressed his right hand to his lower belly.

His eyes widened slightly.

It was hard to describe. It was like a little fish swimming inside him, gently smacking his belly and pushing out a tiny bulge.

Everyone noticed his strange behavior. It was his first major slip-up on set, and people were surprised.

Director Cheng had just lifted his head from the camera and hadn’t spoken yet when Yan Yushan bolted across the set, reaching Xu Xishuang in seconds. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?”

Director Cheng closed his mouth silently.

“I…” Xu Xishuang struggled to speak, placing the lighter down. “My stomach hurts.”

There were still mics recording, and so many people around—he couldn’t say those two words out loud.

Director Cheng was about to ask why he was clutching his lower abdomen when Yan Yushan turned and said, “Director Cheng, I’ll take Xu Xishuang to rest.”

“Oh, okay,” Director Cheng nodded, then announced, “Everyone, that’s it for today. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

He had planned to shoot this in two parts anyway, so it didn’t matter. It was getting late, and the lighting wasn’t great. Shooting tomorrow would be better.

Director Cheng watched them leave, a little worried. The way Yan Yushan practically carried Xu Xishuang off—those two were really close.

He silently prayed that Xu Xishuang wasn’t seriously ill. If something happened to their lead, the filming schedule would be completely derailed.

They were shooting on location today, a bit far from the studio. A car was needed to return. Yan Yushan took Xu Xishuang straight to the van.

Xiao Wang finally caught up, panting as he stood outside the door. He hesitated, then decided not to go in, standing guard with the thermos.

Inside, Yan Yushan helped Xu Xishuang sit, knelt before him, and took off his mask. He reached up to feel Xu Xishuang’s forehead. “Is it gastroenteritis?”

“No,” Xu Xishuang grasped his wrist and lowered his hand.

He still wore gloves—cool to the touch. Yan Yushan reached out to remove them. He had only peeled one halfway, revealing pale skin, when Xu Xishuang said, “…It was fetal movement.”

Yan Yushan froze.

Still kneeling, glove half-off, he was completely stunned, unable to process the words.

“He kicked me,” Xu Xishuang said, hand on his belly, still a bit dazed. “Dr. Xu said I’d feel it around four or five months. He’s got quite a kick…”

Xu Xishuang had never really felt his pregnancy. Before transmigrating, he thought pregnancy was something that would never happen to him. When he first learned he was pregnant in this world, he had even considered terminating it. After all, this child was just a fictional name on paper, a character described as a lively little boy.

But now—for the first time—it hit him. There was life inside him. A little being, connected to him by blood, who would come into the world in a few months… his child.

Yan Yushan finally moved.

His gaze refocused. He exhaled slowly, let go of the glove, and with trembling hands, lifted Xu Xishuang’s shirt, revealing his pale belly.

The swell wasn’t much. Just a soft, round curve.

Still kneeling, Yan Yushan leaned in, studying the belly intently. His warm breath brushed Xu Xishuang’s skin, making him squirm from the tickle.

As Xu Xishuang leaned back, Yan Yushan clearly saw it—a small bump pushed out from his belly. It quickly subsided, but that was enough.

It was real. Fetal movement.

Xu Xishuang was carrying their child.

Yan Yushan’s breath caught. He struggled to stay composed. His voice hoarse, he asked, “Can I kiss it?”

Xu Xishuang blinked, confused by the question. He was about to suggest Yan Yushan stand up because they looked ridiculous in their current positions, when Yan Yushan leaned in and gently kissed his belly.

A soft touch, quickly withdrawn.

Xu Xishuang felt like he was on fire. His heart stuttered wildly. He looked away in panic, unable to meet his eyes.