Deep in the Act: Chapter 21

Filming wrapped, and it was already past three in the afternoon. Sitting in the crew van, Zhou Zheng took a call, made some vague sounds of agreement, and told the driver, “Straight to that KTV from last time. Teacher Wu,” he turned around, “Director Chen wants to welcome you back properly.”

Wu Rong loved to party, loved to make noise, loved that buzz from alcohol. “About damn time! If you guys didn’t do this soon, I’d quit the crew!”

Zhen Xin sat coldly in the middle row. From the rearview mirror he could see a corner of the back seat, that black hair was Zhang Zhun’s. He didn’t know the filming details between him and Wu Rong, just as Wu Rong didn’t know his with Zhang Zhun. When they arrived, Zhen Xin got out first, deliberately waited a while, then pulled Zhou Zheng aside. “Their next scene is a bed scene?”

Zhou Zheng lit a cigarette for him. “Yeah. Closed set.”

Closed set. Zhen Xin felt a little off. “When does he leave?”

Zhou Zheng knew who he meant. “This weekend, probably. He doesn’t have many scenes left.”

He stubbed out the cigarette, grinding it under his shoe. They entered the private room. Pushing open the door, they saw beer bottles covering the table, the overhead lights on. On the black leather bench, Wu Rong had his cigarette-holding arm around Zhang Zhun, leaning in annoyingly close. “Come on, what’s wrong with singing ‘Nian Ren’ with your big bro?”

“Not singing,” Zhang Zhun was also smoking. “Your taste in music is terrible.”

They joked and bantered. In no time the main group arrived. Chen Zhengsen came through the door looking for Wu Rong, wanting to drink the first toast with him. Wu Rong was always up for a drink, so without a word they knocked back three in a row. Then he pointed at the karaoke machine. “Second Hand Rose, ‘Nian Ren’!”

He loved rock, northwestern and northeastern styles. He belted it out: “The two of us row a boat to see the sights, we wear the boat thin, we wear the water shy, the two of us ride the wind to see the sights, we wear the wind sultry, we wear the fog charred…”

Zhen Xin couldn’t understand what he was singing. He looked at the lyrics on the screen, the simplified characters reading: “In the third watch, the two of us enter the embroidery room, the two of us get into bed, undo the fragrant powder pouch, reveal the chrysanthemum fragrance, a fresh flower plucked by the young man, so high and so high, you ask the young man if it’s fragrant!” He asked Xiao Wang beside him, “What’s this song about?”

Xiao Wang was a little embarrassed, leaned into his ear and said, “You know, that kind of thing!”

Zhen Xin immediately understood what kind of thing he meant. Right behind him was the control screen. He reached back and hit skip. Wu Rong was right at the chorus: “If you want me to come, who the hell wouldn’t want to come, what bastard wouldn’t want to… who the fuck skipped it!”

Zhen Xin played dumb. Wu Rong fumed and picked another song, tender and mournful: “Pomegranate blossoms yellow leaves, aunts teach their children to be virtuous…”

All strange songs, the songs and the man shared the same temperament. Zhen Xin didn’t mind them, but anything involving Zhang Zhun irritated him. Just then, another voice joined the audio channel, deep and somewhat impassioned, one he knew very well. “You are the rare man of this world, I am the goosegrass on the ground, I want to give you fresh flowers, you let me smell the bone-chilling fragrance!”

Zhang Zhun held the mic, looking at Wu Rong, that kind of heart-to-heart between buddies. Zhen Xin couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t bear hearing their voices rise and fall together. The crew members were very supportive, going up in groups to toast. Wu Rong could hold his liquor, drinking from the stage to the floor. Zhang Zhun kept him company, making the rounds again and again. Before long he was drunk. Learning from last time, he sat down early, closed his eyes and pretended to be passed out.

With his eyes dark, his ears actually worked better. He listened to the distant and near sounds of toasting, and all those rambling drunk words. He didn’t know who shouted, “Director, ‘Obsessive Crow’ is upstairs, I ran into their lighting crew!”

Chen Zhengsen slurred, “Old Zheng’s crew, everyone up, up, come with me to say hello!”

People started moving, someone constantly brushing past his legs. Like a sudden whoosh, the private room emptied. Zhang Zhun had just relaxed when a phone suddenly rang from the other end of the room: goodbye my almost lover, goodbye my hopeless dream…

He instinctively shuddered. On the other end, the call connected. “Hey,” Zhen Xin said lazily, “Yunting, I’m in the room,” his voice started moving closer, “alone,” closer and closer, “yeah, next month,” he sat down extremely close, so close Zhang Zhun could feel the heat from his thigh, “okay, talk later, I’ll call you tonight.”

The phone hung up. A strong smell of alcohol mixed with hot breath sprayed onto his face. Zhang Zhun kept his eyes closed, every pore on his body opening up. He felt Zhen Xin was going to do something, but couldn’t say what. Panic, and a little anticipation, until his lips were taken, the sound of wet kisses rising in the darkness. Zhen Xin was desperate, wanting to touch him, afraid he’d wake up, lost in lust, pressing him against the chair back, his whole body tangling with him. Then the door opened, someone walked in, but he was completely unaware.

Wu Rong had just gone upstairs when he realized he’d left his phone. He was waiting for his wife’s call, so he went back to the private room alone. Pushing open the door, the lights were off, but he could see a writhing figure on the bench. He knew the one underneath was the drunk Zhang Zhun. He only froze for a split second. He grabbed an empty beer bottle from the table and charged over. “I fuck your mother, Zhen Xin!”

Zhang Zhun was aroused, relaxing his mouth, letting Zhen Xin explore. He could have pushed him away, but didn’t. Instead he secretly tasted the forbidden flavor, his heart pounding, blood rushing against his eardrums. Until he heard Wu Rong’s roar, he opened his eyes and saw the bottle flying toward Zhen Xin’s head. He didn’t need to react, there was no time to react. He twisted his body and shoved Zhen Xin down onto the chair. Wu Rong watched the bottle graze his ear bone and shatter against the wall.

Like a video recorder hitting pause, except for the bottle breaking into pieces, everyone froze in place. Dead silence. After a long while, Wu Rong squeezed out one sentence. “Zhun, you… you’re awake?”

Zhen Xin wanted to ask the same thing. He was pressed against his chest by Zhang Zhun, under that palm it felt like something was exploding, burning hot and painful. He wanted to grasp that thin wrist, but it was pulled away. Zhang Zhun opened his mouth, about to say something, when the private room door was pushed open from outside. A large crowd surrounded Chen Zhengsen coming back in, noisy and rowdy. “Where’s the booze, keep the rounds going!”

No one noticed the three of them. No one even noticed Zhang Zhun was awake. In the flowing waves of the mundane world, passion is nothing but a chance ripple, and sin is merely the shadow of that ripple. Zhang Zhun and Zhen Xin silently separated. Wu Rong also looked away, blending into the crowd as if nothing happened. In a moment, the waters of the mundane world were calm again.

The next day, Wu Rong was dragged out of bed by Xiao Wang. He’d never drunk so much in his life, practically pouring it down his throat, almost wanting to drown himself in liquor. When he got to the set, the equipment was already set up. The first thing he saw was Zhen Xin sitting in the work chair. He was stunned. Xiao Deng came over to greet him. “Bro, you drank too much last night?”

“Ah,” Wu Rong was flustered. “What’s he doing here!”

Xiao Deng glanced in the direction he was looking. “He’s always here for this kind of scene. Director Chen has him observe.”

“Fuck!” Wu Rong was deeply unwilling. “This kind of scene is something you can observe!”

Xiao Deng laughed. “Bro, your scene is fine, lots of dialogue, not much action.”

“You were here watching the whole time they built the set yesterday?”

“Bro Zhun gave me the day off, had me come learn.” Xiao Deng used to study design, always wanted to switch to set design. Wu Rong didn’t know what came over him, said bitterly, “Zhun is just too damn nice. Gets taken advantage of!”

Speaking of Zhang Zhun, at this moment he was wrapped only in a bath towel, listening to the director explain the scene. Chen Zhengsen pointed at the script and told him, “This scene, Gao Zhun and Fang Chi have been apart for a while. He’s been through a few men, so I want you slutty, find that sex-addict feeling, give it a little of that seductive charm!”

Zhang Zhun kept nodding. Seeing Wu Rong, he awkwardly twitched the corner of his mouth. Wu Rong felt sour inside. He walked over casually. “Director,” he first exchanged a few words with Chen Zhengsen, then looked at Zhang Zhun. “Bro, in a bit I’m following your lead.”

Zhang Zhun smiled, that kind of relieved and intimate smile. How could he not look out for his senior? When they stripped down and held each other face to face on the bed, he even gave Wu Rong a reassurance pill. “You just focus on your lines. I’ll handle everything else.”

The director called, “Action!”

The camera was close. Wu Rong and Zhang Zhun were even closer, leaning lazily against the headboard, kissing now and then, stroking each other’s chests. “I really can’t believe it,” Wu Rong said while pinching Zhang Zhun’s nipple, “someone like you could live in my crappy place, let me sleep with you.” He kneaded almost reverently. “Just thinking about it makes me come!”

Zhang Zhun’s hair was loose, with a sweet coquettishness. He seemed to enjoy Wu Rong’s obsession, laughing ticklishly, showing the few white teeth beside his lips. “Are you gonna talk or do it?” At such close distance, he easily draped one leg over Wu Rong’s shoulder, swaying it cheekily. “I’m wet enough…”

According to the script, Wu Rong was supposed to half turn his head, kiss Zhang Zhun’s swaying ankle, while sliding his hand up from the calf. Knee, thigh, ass, until the open crack between his buttocks. But Wu Rong was too mesmerized to look away. It wasn’t until Zhang Zhun pinched his abs that he slowly turned. Before his mouth even touched, he saw Zhen Xin’s scrutinizing eyes. His heart immediately went weak. When he turned back, something was off.

His hand touched, but trembled. Zhang Zhun felt it. As he worked his hips, when the hand slid into the crack, Wu Rong had a line, “I want you to blow me,” but he forgot it. Chen Zhengsen shook his head in front of the monitor, waved at the cameraman, meaning no need to film, but didn’t call cut. Considered it a rehearsal.

Zhang Zhun looked at Wu Rong with seductive eyes, slowly rubbing down. Wu Rong’s hands pressed against the wooden headboard, his gaze following him down. The director couldn’t see from his angle. At this moment his expression was scared yet curious. Zhang Zhun’s mouth occasionally touched the skin of his side ribs. Every touch made him shiver stupidly like a greenhorn.

Zhang Zhun stopped at his crotch, stuck out his pink tongue, licked like a cat. He was only licking a small patch of skin at the hollow of the hip bone. But Wu Rong’s reaction was huge. The hand gripping the headboard unconsciously exerted force. With a clunk, the wooden headboard sank an inch or so. One hand went to rub Zhang Zhun’s hair. Woodenly he delivered his line, “What do you want for lunch?”

Zhang Zhun picked up his cue. “Aren’t I eating right now?”

“Fuck,” Wu Rong thrust his hips down hard twice. “I’m being serious. I’ll cook you a couple dishes, what do you want?”

Zhang Zhun let go, crawling toward the foot of the bed on hands and feet, his legs sticking against Wu Rong’s legs. “Don’t want it.” He arched his back, pushing his round ass back. “Let’s get the real business done, then go out to eat.”

Wu Rong let go, only then realizing his hand was a little numb. He turned around. A smooth, supple back awaited him, the waist and hips exquisitely shaped. He swallowed and climbed on. “Damn, you’re gonna be the death of me!”

Zhang Zhun let out a sound, starting to rock rhythmically. Wu Rong bit his neck from behind, thrusting fast. Zhang Zhun closed his eyes, because Zhen Xin was sitting right across from him, impeccably dressed, watching.

Zhou Zheng quietly said to Chen Zhengsen, “Wu Rong still doesn’t quite have it for this kind of scene.”

Zhen Xin was irritated. Had been irritated since last night. Now he seized the opportunity, putting on a sour face, speaking at just the right volume, “The camera’s already off, why are you still making him act.”

Wu Rong was too focused on thrusting to hear. Zhang Zhun was very sensitive to Zhen Xin’s voice. Through the gaps in his loose hair, he looked over. The camera light was indeed off. When Wu Rong touched him again, he wouldn’t have it, shifting to get off the bed. Wu Rong was acting obsessed, chasing him to hold him. Zhang Zhun resisted in embarrassment, calling out, “Shi, shige!”

Zhen Xin uncrossed his legs to go up. At this moment Chen Zhengsen spoke. “Wu Rong, get down. Teacher Zhen, you go up, give him a demonstration.”

Zhen Xin was surprised. Zhang Zhun on the bed was even more surprised. When their eyes met, Zhen Xin clearly saw avoidance in his eyes. Wu Rong came down panting. Zhen Xin took off his jacket, got on the bed from the other side, asked Chen Zhengsen, “Where do we start?”

The director’s answer was the full set. So Zhen Xin faced Zhang Zhun just as Wu Rong had. “I really can’t believe, someone like you could live in my crappy place,” unlike Wu Rong’s acting style, he murmured cloyingly, his thumb seemingly absentmindedly scratching Zhang Zhun’s nipple. “Just thinking about it makes me come…”

Zhang Zhun should have that coquettish quality. He should have been at ease. But facing Zhen Xin, that confidence softened. His face reddened as he dodged. “Are you gonna talk or…” The rest was almost inaudible. He looked at Zhen Xin’s eyes in panic, his lips trembling as he kissed him. Not childish pecks. Every kiss went deep to the throat and tongue, tangling and unable to stop.

“I… I’m wet enough…” He tried to drape his leg over Zhen Xin’s shoulder, but whether from slipping or something else, he missed twice. A layer of water light in his eyes, he was circled by Zhen Xin against the headboard, listening to him say softly by his ear, “Do you like me?”

From his ear roots to his scalp went completely numb. Zhang Zhun was certain that line wasn’t in the script. He paled in fright, like a camellia suddenly falling from its branch, shrinking and trembling. Zhen Xin was somewhat forceful, insisting on holding his hand. He stubbornly struggled once.

“Cut cut cut!” Chen Zhengsen threw the script on the ground. “Zhang Zhun, what’s wrong with you, you were fine just now.” He grabbed the ceramic water cup with his name on it. “Wu Rong, go home and think it over. That’s a wrap for today!”

He stormed toward the door, halfway there turned back. “Same scene tomorrow. If we don’t get it, the day after too!”

Crew members started packing up equipment. Zhang Zhun and Wu Rong silently dressed. Zhen Xin had wanted to wait, but Chen Zhengsen called him to go back together. When he went out, he happened to see Xiao Deng, politely nodded at him.

As they headed to the elevator in twos and threes, Zhang Zhun and Xiao Deng walked in front. Wu Rong followed behind, head hanging. After all these years of acting, dragging down the crew was a first. He thought it over, hurried a few steps to catch up, grabbed Xiao Deng’s shoulder and pushed him aside, threw his arm around Zhang Zhun’s shoulder, leaned into his ear and said, “Can I come over to your place tonight?”

Zhang Zhun roughly knew what he meant. He didn’t think much of it, so he nodded. Xiao Deng complained unhappily, “Bro Wu, what’s with all the secrecy…”