Shi Yi was abroad when the film started shooting.

He was in France working on a business deal, so he just skimmed through the news and gave Liu Li a quick call to congratulate her.

Over the phone, Liu Li said, “Do you know what role Ying Ming is playing?”

“What role?”

“He’s playing the villain. He’s supposed to rape me.”

She laughed after saying it.

Shi Yi raised his eyebrows on the other end and teased, “With his build? That’s a stretch, don’t you think?”

That comment, however, never reached Ying Ming’s ears. After Shi Yi returned to the country, he happened to have some downtime. Business wasn’t too hectic, and the company had hired a few mid-level managers to help him and Ou Yang handle operations, which freed up some of his time. For a few days, he reconnected with old friends and went out to eat. While at dinner, he casually caught a news segment covering the film’s progress and a behind-the-scenes visit. On a whim, he got an idea.

The next day, he went to visit the set.

It wasn’t difficult to find out where the movie was being filmed. Without telling anyone, Shi Yi showed up and called Ying Ming once he reached the set. “Hey, do you think this film will be any good?”

Ying Ming usually kept his phone off while on set.

That day, however, he had set it to vibrate because he was expecting a work-related call. Otherwise, Shi Yi wouldn’t have been able to reach him.

He answered the phone, briefly surprised, and stepped aside. “You came to visit the set?”

“Yeah, I’m just outside the studio.”

“Did you tell Liu Li before coming?”

“No. I wasn’t coming just for her. Figured I might as well check in on you, too.”

Shi Yi’s words made Ying Ming chuckle. Spotting his assistant motioning to him, he raised a hand to acknowledge them before saying to Shi Yi, still amused, “Even if you’re here to see her, it’s no use. Liu Li doesn’t have any scenes scheduled today.”

In the end, it was Ying Ming who brought Shi Yi onto the set.

Seeing a film set for the first time, Shi Yi couldn’t help feeling a bit curious. He raised an eyebrow. “This is quite the production.”

“They’re shooting a gunfight scene today. It’s not usually this crowded,” Ying Ming explained, introducing Shi Yi to his assistant and asking them to help find him a place to hang around. Ying Ming still had a few scenes left to shoot and didn’t have much time to chat. Fortunately, since the set was already chaotic, Shi Yi’s presence didn’t draw much attention. He sat in a corner where the crew usually ate and watched the shooting area with mild interest, finding it all rather novel.

That novelty, however, wore off quickly. After a while, the explosions started with loud bursts and crashing sounds that went on for over an hour, and Shi Yi gradually began to grow bored.

He called Liu Li.

“Where are you?”

She sounded half-asleep, probably just waking up. “At home. Why?”

“I came to visit the set today, but you’re not here.”

There was a slight note of complaint in Shi Yi’s tone. Liu Li chuckled. “Well, whose fault is that? You didn’t give me a heads-up. Where are you now?”

“At the set. I ran into Ying Ming.”

“Do you want me to come over?”

“No need. I’m leaving soon.” Shi Yi stood up, bored out of his mind, and wandered toward the filming area while still chatting with her. As he approached, someone reminded him to turn off his phone. He exchanged a few more words with Liu Li before hanging up.

The scene they were shooting focused mainly on Ying Ming, who had to be kicked off a pretty high ledge. Preparations seemed to be in place already, and just as Shi Yi reached the sidelines, he saw Ying Ming fall hard.

It looked genuinely dangerous.

Even though they were using safety wires, the impact when he hit the ground was still loud and jarring.

For a moment, Ying Ming just lay there, struggling to move but not getting up.

Shi Yi frowned, surprised by how rough the stunt looked.

A few crew members rushed over to help him, and it took two of them to get him on his feet. He looked a bit disheveled, rubbing his arm, but the first thing he did was ask the director, “Was that take okay?”

The director waved him over to check the playback. As Ying Ming walked over, he ran right into Shi Yi and flashed a quick smile.

In the end, they had to reshoot the scene twice more.

Shi Yi left after watching just one take. He didn’t stay for the second. Watching someone he knew fall and crash to the ground like that wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience, especially since Ying Ming’s makeup made him look particularly disheveled.

No matter what, they had known each other for quite a while, and it wasn’t easy to see Ying Ming like this.

In Shi Yi’s mind, Ying Ming had always been the type with a casual, slightly roguish charms, who fit seamlessly into any crowd. Even when he chose to stay quiet, he still exuded that natural aura celebrities often carried. Maybe not the brightest star in the room, but definitely someone who caught people’s attention.

Otherwise, Shi Yi wouldn’t have noticed him in the first place.

But seeing him on set like this left Shi Yi feeling oddly unsettled.

The shoot finally wrapped up around noon. Once Ying Ming had removed his makeup, he came to find Shi Yi. They had a two-hour break for lunch. Since there weren’t any particularly fancy spots nearby, Ying Ming took him to a hot pot restaurant he frequented, where they got a private booth.

Shi Yi shrugged off his coat and draped it over the back of his chair. When he turned back, he saw Ying Ming inspecting the scrape on his elbow. He frowned. “I thought you guys usually had stunt doubles for this sort of thing.”

Ying Ming casually brushed at the wound like it wasn’t worth bothering over. After setting up his own tableware, he opened Shi Yi’s chopsticks and bowl as well. “We do, but I told the director I’d do it myself. Didn’t seem necessary to use a double.”

“You’re really pushing it, huh.”

“Work is work,” Ying Ming said with a slight smile.

He poured hot water over both their sets of utensils to rinse them, then called the server to order. Since Shi Yi wasn’t familiar with the place, Ying Ming took charge. And because Shi Yi would be leaving soon, they skipped the alcohol and ordered a jug of sour plum juice instead.

“You should try it. The place doesn’t look like much, but the food’s pretty good.”

“Sure. I’m not picky.”

While they waited for their food, Shi Yi brought up Liu Li’s role in the film. It was just a casual question, but Ying Ming gave a surprisingly detailed explanation.

“It’s basically a typical commercial film. Judging by the script, it should do pretty well,” Ying Ming said, describing the project.

Shi Yi listened, but midway through, a sudden thought struck him, and he interrupted, “When did you start acting?”

Ying Ming paused briefly before answering, “When I was eleven.”

“Was Rogue your first movie?”

“Not exactly. I’d done a few roles before that, but they were mostly minor ones to move the plot along. You probably haven’t heard of them.”

That wasn’t really the question Shi Yi wanted to ask.

What he’d intended to say was why someone like Ying Ming, who had once won a prestigious Best Actor award, was now taking on a supporting role like this.

But in the end, he held back and didn’t ask.

Ying Ming might have noticed his hesitation, or perhaps he genuinely didn’t. Either way, the conversation stayed focused on Liu Li. Between teasing remarks and a lighthearted atmosphere, Ying Ming neither explained the awkwardness Shi Yi had witnessed on set nor dwelled on it.

After dinner, Ying Ming asked, “Do you want to go back to the set for a bit?”

Shi Yi shook his head. “Nah, I’ve got stuff at the office. I should head back.”

“Next time you come, call me ahead of time or at least get the details straight,” Ying Ming reminded him with a grin as they walked out.

“Will do,” Shi Yi replied, chuckling.

Not long after Shi Yi left, Wang Yiqi arrived at the set.

Unlike Shi Yi, Wang Yiqi was clearly here just to visit Ying Ming. He strolled casually onto the set, exuding his usual relaxed confidence, and went straight to find him. Someone nearby recognized him and, surprised, called out, “Yiqi, visiting the set?”

“Yeah,” Wang Yiqi said cheerfully. “Where’s Ying Ming?”

“He’s probably in the makeup room. His friend just left.”

“Friend?” Wang Yiqi raised an eyebrow, curious.

Wang Yiqi raised an eyebrow and repeated the word “friend” in a peculiar tone before following the directions to the makeup room. He pushed the door open to find Ying Ming tending to the fake wound on his face.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Your makeup gets more and more over-the-top every time,” Wang Yiqi teased.

Ying Ming shot him a glance and said lazily, “Andy, Wang Yiqi is complimenting your work.”

The makeup artist named Andy rolled his eyes dramatically. “Well, thank you ever so much, handsome Wang…”

In the entertainment industry, stylists and makeup artists often had a flamboyant air, whether due to their artistic sensibilities or just personal flair. Andy was no exception. He had worked with Ying Ming on numerous projects, and while he was a decent person, his slightly effeminate tone always gave conversations a peculiar edge. After thanking Wang Yiqi, he cast him an exaggerated, faintly sorrowful look, as if lamenting some unspoken grievance.

Wang Yiqi, looking entirely innocent, ignored the silent exchange and met Ying Ming’s amused gaze without a hint of shame.

Wang Yiqi was an actor himself.

However, unlike Ying Ming, he was in the midst of a career upswing. His popularity was rising, and he was frequently followed by the media. Part of this was due to his growing fame, and part of it was because he had a naturally high-profile personality.

While Ying Ming’s career path had been unconventional, Wang Yiqi was a graduate of a prestigious film academy. He had been discovered during a casting call at the school, landing a supporting role in a film that catapulted him to fame. He even won a Best Supporting Actor award for that role. Since then, he’d been steadily climbing the ranks, with many industry insiders predicting he would soon transition to leading roles.

The two had met while working on a film together. At the time, Wang Yiqi played the second male lead, while Ying Ming had an even smaller supporting role. Since they were part of the same group on set, they often hung out off-camera, sharing meals and drinks. By the end of filming, they had become close friends.

As time went on and their personalities proved to be a perfect match, they grew inseparable, eventually becoming best friends.

Their tight bond was well-known within the industry, and very few people were surprised by it anymore.

Whenever time allowed, Wang Yiqi would attend Ying Ming’s premiere, showing up to lend his support. On camera, the two often joked and teased each other, their dynamic easygoing and familiar. They were known as publicly acknowledged friends, so no one found it strange when Wang Yiqi showed up on set to visit.

The two chatted in the makeup room for over half an hour before Ying Ming’s assistant came to remind him it was time to get into position. Wang Yiqi stood up and clapped Ying Ming on the shoulder.
“I heard someone already visited you on set earlier. Who was it? When did you pick up a new friend without telling me?”

Despite Ying Ming’s broad social network, it was relatively straightforward. Wang Yiqi knew most of his close friends, and within that circle, it wasn’t common for anyone to drop by for a set visit.

Ying Ming had been waiting for this moment.

He stood up, adjusted his clothes, and gave himself a final check in the mirror before turning leisurely to glance at Wang Yiqi.
“Someone who’s particularly eager to meet you,” he said, his voice calm but meaningful.

“Huh?”

How did this conversation suddenly turn to him?

As Ying Ming brushed past him on his way out, he tossed a casual remark over his shoulder, as if throwing a bone for Wang Yiqi to chew on.

“It was Shi Yi.”

In that instant, Wang Yiqi felt his expression freeze.