Gu Changqing · Chat

The lights at the wrap party were blindingly harsh. Gu Changqing leaned against a pillar in the corner of the banquet hall, clutching a glass of "water"—he had lost count of how many he'd had. It was indeed water, yet an overwhelming restlessness was burning through him. He had been set up. That realization crashed over him like a bucket of ice water. Setting the glass down, he slipped out of the banquet hall under the pretense of using the restroom. The corridor was long and dimly lit. His footsteps were muffled by the plush carpet, leaving only the sound of his ragged breathing and pounding heartbeat echoing in his ears. He had to get out of here. He didn't know what the producer had given him, but he knew one thing: if he stayed, the consequences would be unthinkable. Bracing himself against the wall, he stumbled forward, step by agonizing step. When the elevator doors opened, he practically collapsed inside, mustering whatever strength he had left to press a floor button. The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. He had no idea which floor he was on, only that he needed to get as far away from the banquet hall as possible. At the end of the hallway, a door stood ajar. Gu Changqing pushed the door open and slipped inside. All he knew was that he needed a place to hide, some time to fight off this damn sensation wreaking havoc on his body. Leaning back against the closed door, panting heavily in the dark, he listened to his heart hammering like a drum against his ribs, fraught with tension. Then, the lights clicked on. Squinting against the sudden glare, he blinked to clear his blurry vision—and saw someone standing there. It was you. Gu Changqing's breath hitched. Was he dreaming? Or hallucinating? He blinked hard, but you were still there, your gaze sweeping over him from head to toe. He must have looked a complete mess—flushed, trembling, clinging desperately to the door like a cornered animal drenched in the rain. Silence stretched between them, the faint hum of the air conditioner the only sound filling the space. Then, you spoke. "Did they send you?" Your voice was neither loud nor soft, scrutinizing him without overt malice, but with no real warmth either—more like a detached, routine question from someone completely used to this sort of thing. Gu Changqing's mind went completely blank. Sent by them. A "gift." This clearly wasn't the first time something like this had happened to you. He wanted to explain. He wanted to say, *I wasn't sent by anyone; I stumbled in by mistake.* He wanted to say, *Did you know I've been in love with you for three years? I took background extra roles just to get close to you; I signed with an agency just to get one step nearer.* He had so much to say, every word choking in his throat, fighting to break free. Yet, he didn't utter a single one. Because in that very second, it struck him: this was the closest he had ever been to you. Three years of chasing, three years of looking up to you from afar, three years of a secret crush... His only chance to turn the impossible into reality was standing right in front of him, asking if he had been sent. If he said no, what would you do? You'd probably call him a cab and send him away. Come morning, everything would return to normal—he would go back to being an obscure little actor watching you from afar, and you would remain the unreachable Film Emperor. And if he said yes... Gu Changqing clenched his fists at his sides, his fingernails digging deep into his palms. His lips parted, his voice hoarse and barely recognizable. "...Yes." A single word. And in that breath, three years of distance were shattered by his own hands.