Ch.131 – The Star Around The Sun

Ling Jiayue returned to the crew sooner than they’d expected, with her mother by her side. Moreover, she intended to stay and accompany her for the rest of the shoot

He Zheng was a little worried, since Ling Jiayue seemed to be in lower spirits than she was some time ago. When she took a break halfway through filming, she went to sit back down at Ren Keting’s side compliantly, sullen and taciturn. 

But once she began filming, Ling Jiayue was in a completely different state, like the person in the movie and the person outside of it were two entirely different people.

He Zheng even felt that Ren Keting’s decision to halt Ling Jiayue’s acting career temporarily and make her go back to school was an unfortunate one. 

On the day Ling Jiayue returned, she went to find Xia Xingcheng and apologized in earnest.

Xia Xingcheng didn’t care whether she was sincere or not. He nodded and accepted her apology. 

Public sentiment on the internet about this particular incident had long since died out. Xia Xingcheng’s studio had issued a statement. The wording was somewhat ambiguous; they merely denied that Xia Xingcheng was in any shady relationships with a man, yet they didn’t state where the photos were from. 

The marketing accounts on the internet no longer mentioned the incident. New gossip surrounding the entertainment industry quickly popped up, and everyone’s attention shifted in succession. Like this, this matter was left to die. 

Xia Xingcheng inwardly felt a little regretful. He knew that he shouldn’t be saying this—but there were times where he would fantasize—if there really came a day where he had enough confidence, would he be able to go public? There was no way to tell. 

The weather grew hotter with each passing day. 

Sometimes, Xia Xingcheng had the illusion that he’d been thrown back to that period of time two years ago: the stifling heat of the studio, the hubbub of bustling staff, the handsome and composed man he secretly fancies.

Han Bohan was taciturn and introverted by nature, so when Xia Xingcheng was on set, he became increasingly quiet and nonchalant. 

Here, Yang Youming would generally refrain from talking to him. They maintained their distance, not letting their intimate relationship disrupt their characters’ emotions. 

Song Yanyan would sometimes huddle beside Xia Xingcheng, whispering, “Xing ge, when you’re not filming, your temperament resembles Han Bohan’s more and more.”

Xia Xingcheng was flipping through his script. Without looking up, he replied, “It’s just filming.”

Song Yanyan asked, “Is it character bleed?”

Xia Xingcheng didn’t answer.

Song Yanyan continued, “When you and Ming ge shot Gradual Distance, were you like this too?”

Xia Xingcheng’s eyes flickered towards her before his gaze shifted towards Yang Youming. Yang Youming had his eyes closed at first, as if asleep, but somehow, he suddenly felt Xia Xingcheng’s gaze on him, and he opened his eyes to look over, the corners of his mouth curving slightly.

Song Yanyan suddenly held her breath. She lowered her voice, and said to Xia Xingcheng, “Is Yang Youming smiling at you?”

Xia Xingcheng lifted his script and looked at it as he gave her a deadpan response, “Is he? You’re seeing things.”

Song Yanyan stood up. She was wearing a long nightgown for an upcoming scene, and her hair was worn down. She turned away and said to Xia Xingcheng, “Humph! Yang Youming’s gonna be carrying me in a bit anyway!” With that, she happily fled towards the single bed on the set. 

Xia Xingcheng turned to the previous page of the script. 

– 

Han Bohan drove to the entrance of Shu Mian’s school and waited for her to finish evening self-study. He lit himself a cigarette. He’d actually never been much of a smoker before, but when he ran around taking care of Han Zhang’s affairs, he had cigarettes with him at all times, and he’d light one anytime he felt jittery. 

When evening self-study ended, Shu Mian was the first person to appear at the school gates. She was wearing her school uniform—the oversized jacket of her P.E. uniform seemed like it engulfed her slender body—and today, her hair wasn’t tied up, cascading down to her lower back.

She opened Han Bohan’s car door by herself, and after she got on, she tilted her head sideways and looked at Han Bohan with a smile. 

Han Bohan bit at his cigarette and smiled back. 

Smiling, Shu Mian stared at him for a moment, unspeaking throughout. Suddenly, she extended a hand towards Han Bohan. 

Han Bohan subconsciously moved away.

Shu Mian caught the cigarette between Han Bohan’s lips and took it out for him. She looked around, seemingly wondering where she should put it out. “Don’t smoke,” she said. When she spoke, her brows were slightly furrowed.

Han Bohan was silent for a beat before he held out a hand towards Shu Mian, saying, “I’m not smoking. Give it back, I’ll throw it away. Don’t get burnt.” 

Shu Mian looked at him again, then passed the half-burnt cigarette back to Han Bohan.

That night, Han Bohan brought Shu Mian to the previous patisserie to purchase a cake. This time around, she chose a different flavour of fruit. 

Shu Mian seemed to really like the cake. She was reluctant to eat it, placing the cake box on her lap with the utmost caution.

Han Bohan said, “It’s getting late. Let me take you back.”

Shu Mian looked up, her gaze flitting from the cake box to Han Bohan’s face. After a while, she once again averted her gaze, whispering, “Can I not go home?”

Han Bohan’s breathing paused for a second. He said, “Where do you want to go?”

Shu Mian’s voice was as soft as before, yet she seemed a little uneasy as she said, “I want to be with you.”

Han Bohan swiftly started his car, eyes trained forward as he turned the steering wheel. “No, you should go back.”

Shu Mian was silent. The fingers of her right hand continuously picking at the cake box, unaware, setting off rhythmic rustling in the quiet, enclosed space of the car.

When Han Bohan stopped at a red light, he couldn’t help but turn to look at her hand. Her white knuckles tensed and relaxed in turn, and the paper box was close to tearing from her fingers. 

Shu Mian suddenly stilled. She said to Han Bohan, “I wanna get off. Can you let me off at the intersection?”

Han Bohan asked, “You’re not going home?”

Shu Mian said, “I don’t want you to take me home, I’ll go home by myself.”

Han Bohan shook his head. “I’ll worry.”

All of a sudden, Shu Mian shifted closer, moving in to kiss his lips, yet right then, Han Bohan stepped on the gas pedal and the car sped across the intersection. As he evaded Shu Mian, the steering wheel under his hands veered a little, and they narrowly bumped into the across the lane. 

Han Bohan pulled over soon after, his heart still throbbing hard.

Shu Mian opened the door, got out of the car, then closed the door and fled. 

Alone in his car, Han Bohan registered the clamouring sounds of his violent heartbeat. Cold sweat broke out on his entire forehead. He quietly sat there for a while, and only when he saw Shu Mian’s figure vanishing around a corner did he restart the car to chase after her. 

He drove slowly. Around the corner was a relatively narrow street lined with perimeter walls and a row of neat and tidy trees. A taxi drove from the opposite lane, sailing past his car. 

Han Bohan faced forward, but there was no sign of Shu Mian on either side of the road. Even if she ran, she couldn’t have possibly gone that far, nor disappear into thin air. 

He then recalled the taxi from earlier and immediately made a U-turn on the empty street, driving away in haste.

At the intersection ahead, the taxi happened to be waiting on a red light. Han Bohan kept his car a distance away, tailing the taxi. 

It didn’t take him long to realize that the taxi was headed in the direction of Sun Yao and his daughter’s rental apartment. 

When Han Bohan noticed the taxi slowing down, he parked his car on the side of the road in advance. It was right outside Sun Yao’s neighbourhood; there was no way he could enter, and he had to make do with parking on the curb. 

From a distance away, Han Bohan saw Shu Mian getting off the taxi with the cake box in her hands. She walked into the neighbourhood at a relaxed pace.

Han Bohan sat up straight, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. He unfastened his seatbelt with one hand, then opened the door and got out of the car. 

His black leather shoes made a scuffling noise as it met the ground, and when he entered the neighbourhood, the closer he was to the small building at the back of the residential properties, the lighter his footsteps were until even he couldn’t hear a thing. 

There were no street lights around the small building. The only light source came through its windows, and it lit up a small area around the building. Its door was also tightly shut. 

Han Bohan approached the doorway, trying to listen in through the anti-theft door, but it was quiet inside and he couldn’t make out a thing. 

Thus, he quietly walked back to the window. 

The window was similarly secured shut, and at present, its curtains were drawn. It was a two panel curtain, pale yellow in colour with a light green floral print. They weren’t black-out curtains, so the light from inside shone through the fabric. But they weren’t drawn completely closed—there was a narrow seam between the two drapes. 

Han Bohan noiselessly approached the seam and looked in, and at first glance, he saw a head of black hair. His heart almost stopped beating when he found that someone was sitting on Sun Yao’s bed with their back to the window and their head resting against it. And yet, even through this narrow seam, Han Bohan could see that the person had long, straight hair. 

If this was Shu Mian, then where was Sun Yao?

Han Bohan continued looking through the seam in the curtains. Like this, he had no choice but to get closer to be able to see an even wider expanse of the room. In that way, he was closer to Shu Mian, and he even thought that Shu Mian might turn around and spot him at any time. 

But Shu Mian didn’t do so, she leaned against the window the whole time. Han Bohan, however, hadn’t caught a single glimpse of Sun Yao from the window. He didn’t know if Sun Yao had gone to the bathroom, or if he was inside the small bedroom. 

“Prosecutor Han.” Without warning, Han Bohan heard a low voice behind him, like a sudden strike to his cranium, instantly rendering his mind blank. He turned around as calmly as he could and was met with the sight of Sun Yao standing behind him, watching him. 

Sun Yao wore a navy blue, short-sleeved shirt that had faded in the wash, paired with somewhat rugged shorts. With his hands in his pockets and a pair of sandals on his feet, he looked at Han Bohan with a wooden stare and asked, “You’ve come to see me so late?”

Han Bohan’s lips were a little pale. He felt cold sweat faintly appearing on his forehead, yet when he opened his mouth to speak, his voice was as calm as ever. “Yes. No one answered when I knocked on the door earlier, so I thought you weren’t home.”

Sun Yao unhurriedly approached Han Bohan. 

Han Bohan felt a sense of oppression. When he met Sun Yao for the very first time at the detention centre, he had merely seen Sun Yao as a father who loved his daughter dearly. Yet apart from that first encounter, every time he met Sun Yao afterwards, Han Bohan always perceived this oppressive feeling. 

Sun Yao was slightly taller than Han Bohan. As he got closer, he had to slightly lower his head to meet Han Bohan’s eyes. “You knocked?”

When Han Bohan stood up straight, he would seem particularly upright and proper, just like his character—firm and unyielding. He stared Sun Yao down unflinchingly, and said, “I did.”

Sun Yao examined him closely, and a moment later, he said, “Oh. I guess I didn’t hear. Please come in.” With that, Sun Yao turned around and headed for the door. 

Yet Han Bohan didn’t move. He knew that Shu Mian was inside; he didn’t understand why Sun Yao would invite him in, and he also had no idea how he was supposed to confront the two of them at the same time after entering the room. He somewhat hesitated. 

When Sun Yao arrived at the doorway, he found that Han Bohan hadn’t followed after him, so he stopped and looked back at him. “Prosecutor Han?”

Han Bohan stood stock-still.

Sun Yao suddenly smiled, and said, “Come in and have some cake.”

The word ‘cake’ abruptly woke Han Bohan up. He shot a glance at Sun Yao, then walked towards the door. 

Sun Yao stood at the doorway, motionless. As Han Bohan went inside, their bodies were practically pressed close. Right then, Sun Yao softly coughed twice, and his breath hit the side of Han Bohan’s face, making him turn his face instinctively. 

The moment he walked through the door, Han Bohan halted in his tracks. He looked at Sun Yao’s single bed by the window and found that the person sitting on the bed wasn’t Shu Mian at all, but Sun Xunyan.

Sun Xunyan’s eyes were closed, and because she was unconscious, she sat there with blankets piled on her left and right to prop her up. 

So where did Shu Mian go? Han Bohan subconsciously looked around the not-so-large room. 

At that moment, there was a muted sound behind him—it was Sun Yao closing the door. 

Han Bohan turned his head. 

Sun Yao said, “It’s late. What is Prosecutor Han really here for?”

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⟵ Chapter 130 | TOC | Chapter 132 ⟶