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Psst! We're moving!
After realizing what the director wanted, Yan Man rubbed her earlobes.
“But I’m wearing a cheongsam. Won’t it be difficult?”
After a moment’s thought, the director smiled.
“You sit further back. I didn’t say for you to sit on his lap. Lean back and then you can keep your legs together.”
“...”
That made sense.
“Try it,” the director tilted his head. “Hurry up, before the sunlight is gone.”
Time was precious, and acting was part of an actor’s professionalism. She didn’t hesitate, following the instructions directly.
He must work out regularly; his leg muscles were hard. The fabric rustled as she moved, and her cheongsam rode up slightly.
Ye Lin’s legs were too long. As soon as she sat down, her feet dangled in the air.
Her delicate ankles with red high heels wobbled in mid-air, unable to find support, looking like they might fall off at any moment.
Director: “High heels.”
Yan Man understood, lowering her head to untie the straps.
To support her, Ye Lin’s legs were braced. From his knees to his abdomen, there was a slight downward slope.
Yan Man lowered her head, losing balance, her body uncontrollably sliding toward his abdomen...
Help.
Seeing her body inch forward several inches, she desperately steadied herself, pretending to nonchalantly rest against his shoulder.
She tried to stop the ever-decreasing distance between them.
But this small push slowed down the shoe removal process. Yan Man slowly bent her ankle, her body collapsing downward.
The morning light gently fell on her, accentuating the curve of her waist even more.
The heel rubbed against the fabric of his uniform trousers. She could feel the shape of his muscles.
Yan Man’s fingertips trembled, her cerebral cortex tingling.
However, there was no other solution.
Perhaps noticing the issue here, the director spoke, “Teacher Ye, help her take off her shoes.”
Yan Man immediately felt relieved, passing the hot potato to Ye Lin, leaning back slightly.
This position easily created blind spots. She struggled to bring her legs to him, pushing them forward, when suddenly her ankle was pinched.
She closed her eyes, her eyelids burning.
Ye Lin encircled her ankle, his finger flicking—
With a soft sound, the high heel fell to the ground.
She curled her toes slightly.
Ye Lin removed the shoes quickly; within two seconds, the other shoe also fell.
The director readjusted the lighting, and they briefly rehearsed, aiming to get it right in one take.
Realizing her body had started to sway, like floating on the sea, she felt a bit panicky, swaying along with him.
“Why is this chair still rocking?”
Ye Lin lazily lifted his eyes: “If it doesn’t rock, why call it a rocking chair?”
The man brought his legs onto the chair, the frequency of the rocking completely uncontrollable. She tightly gripped the armrests, her body sliding uncontrollably, their noses drawing closer.
She was like a taut string, uncontrollably pressing against him.
Yan Man tried to lean back, but the chair reacted violently, jolting her around, making her dizzy.
Ye Lin tried to adjust, but she was too tense.
The man said sternly: “Don’t clamp your legs.”
She reflexively replied: “I’m not clamping.”
He frowned: “Relax.”
“I’m very relaxed.”
The man stretched his leg, barely stabilizing against the floor, pressing outward, and she slid down to his knee.
“Is that it?” It appeared unchanged. Yan Man said, “Later, I’ll still slide towards you…”
He said: “There’s nothing we can do.” This scene had to be filmed this way.
The crew adjusted the lighting to the final stage. Facing his slightly squinted eyes, she inexplicably blurted out, her gaze wavering: “Will you react?”
Ye Lin: “...”
“What are you thinking about?”
Perhaps aware of her slip of tongue, she bit her tongue tip, lowering her head.
Her hair was long and smooth, making her look extremely obedient when she bowed her head. But before she could stay “obedient” for a few seconds, she raised her head again, saying: “But I am really curious.”
“...”
“Alright, stop chatting,” the director snapped his fingers from afar, “Action!”
The camera moved from far to near, capturing not the people but hazy silhouettes.
The man was half-reclining on the lounge chair, her hand resting on his shoulder, inadvertently leaning down. On the screen behind them, their shadows overlapped, merging into one. Only her delicate ankle could be seen, swaying gently in mid-air.
The rocking chair swayed gently back and forth, filled with ambiguity and warmth.
The room was bathed in dim yellow light.
This was actually a subtle bed scene.
The director used some techniques, focusing on silhouettes and lighting. By the time the last ray of sunlight faded, the rocking chair gradually stopped swaying.
The stopping time approached its limit, continuing any longer would be dangerous.
Yan Man bent her knees, resting them against his hip bone, barely maintaining balance.
If it didn’t end soon, she would really have to sit down...
After finishing filming, Yan Man got off him, adjusting her clothes, smoothing down her cheongsam, and straightening the piled-up fabric at her waist.
The earlier conversation with Ye Lin ended here.
Yan Man reapplied her makeup, sitting aside to continue reading.
The character descriptions were intricate, requiring much contemplation.
On the other side, the crew moved on to the next round of filming, which included Feng Ting’s supporting role scenes, proceeding smoothly.
At noon, the director passed by Yan Man and praised her: “Xiao Man, your character description is excellent. These challenging scenes, they’ve grasped the characters quite well.”
Feng Ting also laughed: “It’s indeed very detailed. When Sister just sent over the document, I didn’t think much of it.”
“But before shooting, I took a quick look, and it helped so much with understanding the characters, especially the emotional transitions. In the manga, you can’t see their psychological activities or trajectories, but the text can. Super detailed.”
Ye Lin sat nearby, his fingers moving, twirling a pen.
Feng Ting looked at him: “By the way, Brother, did Sister send it to you?”
“No,” he said, “What?”
Director: “It’s the character biography Xiao Man obtained from the original scriptwriter. She asked some questions about the characters, and the person was very helpful, directly sending over a character biography.”
“Not two days later, they sent over the main characters’ biographies, and she distributed them to everyone. Don’t say, it’s really useful.”
Here, the director turned to look at Yan Man: “Do you have the male lead’s bio?”
Yan Man: “Of course.”
The director patted Ye Lin’s shoulder: “Why are you still spacing out! Add her on WeChat and ask her to send it to you!”
—So this was what she meant to send him earlier.
In the moment of realization, he looked up, and under the sunlight, she was tilting her head, smiling at him, her eyes shimmering with tiny lights.
As if suddenly realizing something, he furrowed his brow.
“You want my WeChat?” Yan Man blinked, “Beg me.”
Ye Lin: “...”
The eye contact lasted only two seconds, but to others, it seemed like countless messages were exchanged.
Yan Man didn’t tease him further, opening her QR code page, slightly turning it.
This time, it wasn’t her scanning his page.
Instead, he scanned, and the decision to accept or not rested with her.
When not filming, the emotions in his eyes were always very faint, and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking now.
Ye Lin raised his arm and scanned.
Soon, Yan Man received a friend request notification.
His profile picture was of his Birmese cat, proudly lifting its head toward the camera, with beautiful, ethereal blue eyes.
The name was Leaf, Ye, his surname.
Personal or professional account?
Thinking this, she glanced and exited the page.
Someone beside her burst out laughing: “You should approve Teacher Ye!”
Yan Man curved her lips, appearing quite pleased.
“Depends on my mood.”
Filming continued until evening. Ye Lin accidentally got hold of a character biography for a supporting male role.
The biography was indeed well-written, not only deeply analyzing the character background and marking important scenes but also detailing emotional transitions. More importantly, it revealed some things absent from the manga.
—This was particularly crucial for character development.
The last scene of the day was a confrontation scene between the male and female leads.
Yan Man had just applied the last stroke of lipstick when she turned to see the man leaning against the doorframe.
Ye Lin held a rolled-up document, buttoning the last button of his officer uniform.
Casually, he asked, “How’s your mood?”
Sunset light poured in, outlining him with a golden glow.
Yan Man thought for a moment: “Average.”
“...”
Returning to the hotel after wrapping up, Yan Man deliberately slowed down, removing her makeup, soaking in the bath, doing skincare, and even rarely unwrapped a blue bath bomb, pouring a small cup of red wine into the bathtub. Beside her were the script and character relationship charts.
After leisurely finishing, it was already past eleven.
She lounged on the bed for a while before opening WeChat and approving Ye Lin’s friend request just before midnight.
Then, closing her eyes, she placed her phone over her face, covering her face as she laughed.
Liking someone turns you into a silly kid.
She thought, she’d wait for him to ask for the character biography, then send it.
There needed to be some difficulty, otherwise, it would be too easy.
While waiting for his message, Yan Man scrolled through Weibo and unintentionally saw a trending topic.
#EnvyYeLinCat#
Clicking in, she found it was Ye Lin’s studio updating a vlog of his daily life.
Such was the top-tier celebrity status; the studio casually posted a three-minute video, and it topped the trending list.
Yan Man first clicked to check the comments, unexpectedly astonished.
The comment section looked like chaos:
[Oh... oh...]
[Let me see whose pants fell off.]
[Who’s not alright? I’m not alright!]
[So envious… future… girlfriend…]
[Just finished bleeding from the nose, what happened.]
Puzzled, she clicked in, and the beginning of the video showed him getting up in loungewear to make breakfast.
The loungewear was deep blue, revealing his collarbone subtly.
Yan Man thought the content was ordinary and didn’t pay much attention, assuming fans had their own filters, finding him irresistible even in pajamas.
She thought, he had even sexier outfits in the drama.
She lay down casually, ready to yawn when the video content underwent some strange changes.
The perspective shifted to his first-person view.
The man held the phone, lying down on the sofa. The sound of fabric rubbing transmitted clearly, as if he were lying beside her ear.
Even his breathing was crystal clear.
Only then did she realize he had three cats.
A Birman elegantly lay down beside him, an American Shorthair played with toys at his side, and a silver tabby jumped onto his knee as he bent his leg.
That cat knew how to flirt, continuously meowing, rubbing against his hands and the lens, emitting satisfied purrs.
It wanted petting.
The man’s fingers scratched down its cheek, then cradled its chin, lightly scratching.
His movements were casual, almost perfunctorily meticulous, with distinct knuckles and slender joints, provoking fanciful thoughts with every action.
The cat blissfully closed its eyes, changing positions to let him scratch different spots.
The next second, his breathy voice came through the headphones, accompanied by a hint of laughter.
“So comfortable? Hmm?”
Almost instantly understanding the meaning of the bullet comments, Yan Man covered her mouth, shamefully sliding down, half her face buried in the blanket.
He usually kept a cold face, rarely smiling, but his breathy voice now was deadly.
Low, deep, mixed with a trace of sleepy tenderness, the pronunciation unclear, as if whispering intimately into your ear.
Just through the screen, the bullet comments went wild, let alone Yan Man.
She had just filmed an intimate scene with him this morning.
She sat where the cat sat, closest to him. Their breaths mingled, his cold yet tempting fragrance of orchids lingered on her fingers, settling on her heart.
His expressions and tone when speaking were vividly clear without needing to imagine.
Yan Man took a deep breath, feeling this wasn’t right. Shaking her head, she prepared to shake off some inappropriate thoughts—
The man began feeding canned food.
The cat on his lap grew bolder, eating two packets of cat treats and still nudging closer.
The man moved his wrist slightly, his wet fingers flashing across the lens.
“Still want more?” He rubbed its ears. “Can’t get enough?”
...
The man didn’t give it another thought, but to their ears, every word transformed.
[Can’t get enough... Can’t get enough... Help...]
Yan Man breathed deeply again, but her phone suddenly rang, sliding down a notification.
Ye Lin: [Decided to approve?]
...
...
Stimulated simultaneously by sight and sound, there was a sense of being caught in the act—
Yan Man dove into her pillow, blushing furiously.
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