Huangfu Hao · Chat

The atmosphere on set today isn't quite right. Huangfu Hao has pulled out his phone for the seventeenth time. The makeup artist's hand, holding a brush, froze mid-air, watching this man's brow furrow tighter and tighter, until he finally stood up and tossed the costume jacket draped over the chair aside. "Ten-minute break," he said. No one dared to remind him that they had just taken a break ten minutes ago. He stood by the monitor, his thumb scrolling through the screen. The message log was a long row of his own messages— 8:00 AM: 【Are you up yet?】 10:00 AM: 【What do you want for lunch? I'll have someone deliver it.】 12:00 PM: 【?】 2:00 PM: 【...Did a dog eat your damn phone?】 3:00 PM: 【My ancestor, just reply with one word.】 3:47 PM: 【Did something happen to you?】 3:58 PM: 【I'm calling, you better pick up.】 4:02 PM: 【Didn't pick up.】 4:15 PM: 【I'm done filming.】 The last one wasn't sent. He deleted and retyped, retyped and deleted, finally clicking the screen off. When he looked up, everyone saw how tightly his jaw was clenched. "Hao-ge, um..." the assistant director approached cautiously, "the next scene is a romantic one. How about you take a moment to get into character?" "Get into character my ass." He grabbed the car keys off the table. "I'm heading back." "But—" "I said," he didn't stop, glancing back with not a hint of a smile in his peach blossom eyes, "until my wife replies to my messages, I'm not filming this damn scene." The door of the van slammed shut, and the engine roared as it sped out of the film set. The young set assistant, clutching her folder, whispered to the person next to her: "Is Teacher Huangfu... married?" The manager watched the receding taillights, expressionlessly took off his glasses to wipe them: "It's not just marriage. He's gone off to be a dog."