Deep in the Act: Chapter 13

Zhang Zhun opened the door. It was Little Deng, wearing a casual blazer on top and ripped jeans on the bottom, his hair styled with a glossy sheen, looking every bit the celebrity. Zhang Zhun couldn’t help but laugh. “Dressed up so sharp?”

Little Deng’s face flushed slightly, his two eyes sparkling bright. “So many big shots here. Can’t make you lose face, bro.” He came inside and closed the door. Zhang Zhun hadn’t turned on the lights. The dusk light coming through the window cast the room in a grayish red hue.

“Feeling any better, bro?” Little Deng was asking about the injury on the inside of his thigh.

“Much better,” Zhang Zhun sat down on the edge of the bed and asked him with a weary expression. “Did they go ahead?”

“Left about half an hour ago,” Little Deng came over and sat beside him. “That KTV place is right across the street.”

Zhang Zhun nodded and said nothing more. After three to five minutes of silence, Little Deng said carefully, “Bro, you’ve suffered.” He tucked his neck in, his face hanging down toward his chest in dejection. “These past two days seeing Zhen Xin… I want to punch him so bad!”

“It’s fine,” Zhang Zhun said lightly. “It’s work.”

“Not a single decent person among them,” Little Deng was getting worked up, his fists clenched tight. “Bro, let’s not go. Why the hell should we sing with these bastards!”

Zhang Zhun turned his head to look at this young hothead, his eyes growing wet. “These are face saving matters. We have to get through them.”

“I should have come over sooner,” Little Deng’s eyes were wetter than his, two fingers pinching the corners, his long arm draping over his shoulder, buddy style. “Bro, seeing you suffer breaks my heart.”

Zhang Zhun gritted his teeth and stood up. “Let’s go. I’ll change.”

He only put on a simple outfit, a white t-shirt and sneakers, clean and fresh like a teenager. When they got to the private room, some people were already drunk. Qin Xun’er was singing a Sa Dingding song, the sound bouncing off all four walls as if she wanted the whole world to know she was a “freely wandering flower.” Zhen Xin and Chen Zhenglin were surrounded by a crowd, every hand holding a full glass of alcohol.

“Little Zhang, come here, come here!” Chen Zhenglin spotted him. He’d been drinking for less than an hour and already his tongue was thick. “Ah, Teacher Zhen has been praising you, saying you’ve got the touch…” Taking a drink from someone, he grabbed Zhang Zhun’s wrist hard. “Late! First punishment, three glasses!”

Zhang Zhun couldn’t hold his liquor well, but the director’s drink… Little Deng didn’t dare take it for him. He gritted his teeth and downed three glasses. Wiping his mouth, Zhen Xin stood before him, also holding a drink. Except it wasn’t a glass, it was a whole bottle. “You toast the director but not me?” he said, with a certain wickedness about him, his messy curls catching the colorful laser lights, looking so unrealistically handsome.

“My bro can’t drink!” Little Deng panicked and let out a low shout. Zhen Xin looked somewhat surprised upon hearing this and quickly pulled the bottle back. At this point Chen Zhenglin spoke up. “You two drink! You have to do a cross armed toast!”

The whole room started egging them on. The smell of cigarettes, alcohol, and sweat, mixed with deafening music. ‘Cause we could be Immortals, Immortals… Zhang Zhun’s expression was pained. Zhen Xin looked at him and felt even more pained inside. He wanted to call it off, but he couldn’t stop it now. So many people squeezed them into the center, shouting high and low: “Cross arms! Cross arms! Cross arms!”

A whole bottle of beer was shoved into his hand. Zhang Zhun was like a lamb pushed onto the execution platform. Across from him was his executioner, so heartless, yet showing tender eyes. They were pushed closer and closer, wrist twisted against wrist. Zhang Zhun had some fight in him too. Eyes shut, heart hardened, he chugged it.

Zhen Xin could hold his liquor, but drinking with Zhang Zhun, it was like he was trying to win some competition, gulping down madly. He finished his own bottle, and before anyone could react, he snatched Zhang Zhun’s and kept chugging. The girls screamed like they were crazy. Chen Zhenglin even jumped onto the sofa shouting: “Zhen Xin! Down it! Damn, you’ve got guts!”

He drank about a bottle and a half, set the empty bottle on the table like it was nothing, and went to take Zhang Zhun’s hand. He wanted to say a few words of apology to him. Chen Zhenglin shouted from the sofa again: “Zhang Zhun, sing one for Teacher Qin!”

Qin Xun’er was splitting her time between productions. She was leaving the set tomorrow and wouldn’t be back for at least a month. Today’s gathering was nominally to send her off. Zhang Zhun was a bit drunk now, covering his mouth, his face and neck flushed red. Zhen Xin wanted to speak up for him, but happened to see Little Deng’s hand supporting his waist. Overthinking it, he didn’t say a word. In the end, Zhang Zhun chose “A Love of a Lifetime.”

Truth was, nobody really wanted to hear him sing. When people go out to have fun, it’s all about showing face for each other. He sat on a tall bar stool in a drunken daze, surrounded by the noisy sounds of finger guessing games. Across a whole sea of indifference, only Zhen Xin was quietly listening.

“Once upon a time, now, the past will never return again,

Red red falling leaves, buried deep in the dust,

Start, end, always unchanged,

You on the horizon, drifting beyond the white clouds…”

A Cantonese song, his voice low, like singing a shattered dream. At a party where everyone was going wild, nobody ever sang this kind of song. He was like a drop of water falling into a lake, causing the surroundings to quiet down. Those playing finger games let go of their hands. Those competing to drink turned their heads back. They listened to him without understanding why, but he was completely unaware, just singing to himself in a daze: “The sea of bitterness, love and hate arise, in this world, hard to escape fate,

Loving each other, yet unable to draw near,

Perhaps I should believe it is destiny!”

The singing was beautiful. Zhen Xin felt his heart was making such a racket, racketing so hard it wanted to jump out of his chest. It must be because the singing was too beautiful. At this moment, Qin Xun’er came over, holding a glass of wine, leaning into his arms with all her charm. “Teacher Zhen, listening so entranced?”

Zhen Xin was annoyed by her, but since she was leaving soon, he replied lazily. “I love listening to whatever he sings.”

Qin Xun’er giggled, as if he’d told a joke. “Don’t get too into the act. What’s in the drama you can see but can’t touch.” Her hand with fuzzy nail polish rested on his belt buckle. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning. Tonight…”

Zhen Xin wasn’t planning to give her face. He was about to push her hand away when Little Deng walked over. First he called out: “Sis Xun’er,” then faced Zhen Xin, somewhat ingratiatingly: “Bro Zhen.”

Little Deng had dated Qin Xun’er’s previous assistant for a while, so their relationship was still decent. Her hand stayed on Zhen Xin’s waist, showing no sign of moving away, like she was petting some kitten or puppy. “Little Deng, good boy.”

Little Deng smiled perfunctorily, looking at Zhen Xin for help. Zhen Xin sat still. He’d wanted to give this kid the cold shoulder for a while now. Little Deng understood, but couldn’t care about dignity anymore. “Bro Zhen, I’m begging you for something.”

Zhen Xin smiled, slowly stood up, and took the opportunity to brush Qin Xun’er’s hand away. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Little Deng. Little Deng gestured with his eyes toward the corner by the karaoke machine, motioning for Zhen Xin to look. “It wouldn’t be good if I went… could you help me out?”

It was too dark for Zhen Xin to see clearly. The person singing on the tall stool now was a girl with a ponytail. He frowned and looked around the room. Where was Zhang Zhun? Little Deng was anxious. “On the way here, Zhun bro said if anything really happened, I could find you.”

Only then did Zhen Xin make out that in the corner sat Zhang Zhun and Chen Zhenglin, close enough to be overlapping.

Zhang Zhun sang well, and Chen Zhenglin liked that. As soon as the song ended, he squeezed over and pulled him to sit in the corner. Zhang Zhun was truly drunk now, swaying about like he had no bones. Chen Zhenglin poured him two more glasses. “Little Zhang, you’re quite good. Before, sometimes, it wasn’t aimed at you, you understand?”

Zhang Zhun nodded dizzily. Chen Zhenglin looked at his defenseless appearance, thought of Zhen Xin’s repeated lapses in composure, and couldn’t help but grow curious. Taking advantage of the alcohol, he put his hand on his thigh, rubbed it, then slid up to his waist. It was an enticing body. Chen Zhenglin wasn’t gay, but in this industry people played all kinds of games. When he ran into someone who suited his taste, he wanted to try too.

Just as he was thinking of having a casual go, Zhen Xin came charging over from nowhere and shoved him. “Who the hell are you touching!”

Chen Zhenglin sobered up, watched him pull Zhang Zhun up and head for the door, and let out a snicker. “I was just warming things up for you!”

Little Deng was waiting not far away. Zhen Xin carried the person over and reached his hand out toward him. “I’ll take him back. Give me the room key.”

Little Deng absentmindedly handed him the room key, watched him push the door open and leave, and only then remembered he should follow. At this point Chen Zhenglin called out: “You, you, Zhang Zhun’s assistant! Come here, have a drink with me!”

Zhang Zhun was completely out of it. Zhen Xin carried him up to the 37th floor, swiped the card, turned on the lights, closed the door, propped the person onto the bed, pulled the thin blanket over him, sat by the bed catching his breath, stood up to leave. The main light switch was by the door. One hand pressed it down, the other turned the door handle. The world went black in an instant, but he didn’t open the door.

Standing there for a long while, he only let out a long breath. Finally, as if he’d made up his mind, he let go of the door handle. There was only a light click. He turned and walked back toward the bed. For a moment he couldn’t see anything. He undressed in the darkness. Apart from the guilty breathing of a thief, the room was terrifyingly quiet. He climbed onto Zhang Zhun’s bed in the dark, lifted the blanket, and stripped the person underneath as bare as himself.

He didn’t dare touch him. He only held his hand and placed it on his own already erect crotch. At first he just let him hold it lightly, then slowly rubbed in small movements, and finally just went crazy pumping up and down. He felt he wasn’t normal anymore, like a pervert, doing something inhuman. What was scarier was that he couldn’t stop at all.

That hand had no strength at all, soft and clueless, like it was gripping his heart. He felt it wasn’t enough, still not enough. So he turned on the small bedside lamp. A beam of yellow light shone down on Zhang Zhun’s face. A thoroughly flushed face. Half parted lips. Disheveled hair. He came hoarsely.

Too fast. He was breathing hard, barely able to support himself. Zhang Zhun moved slightly and let out a hum. Zhen Xin felt like they hadn’t been together in a long time. Even though every day they entangled in front of the camera, that wasn’t them. Just two shadows called Fang Chi and Gao Zhun, living in the universe of film.

He scooped up Zhang Zhun’s waist and rubbed his lips against him. Yes, he wanted to indulge himself, do what he’d always wanted to do but never did. He started from the forehead, inch by inch going down. From the ear smelling of soap, the chest beating with unusual force from the alcohol, the sweat damp armpit, the muscle wrapped ribs, the deeply hollowed groin, all the way to the thinly scabbed inner thigh. He sucked and licked there, making both sides wet and sticky. That was his handiwork.

Zhang Zhun got hard, right before his eyes, standing up lively and erect. Zhen Xin thought for a moment, just a split second, and then took him in his mouth. He told himself it was only because he was drunk, but his body didn’t think so. The moment he swallowed Zhang Zhun down his throat, he shamelessly got hard again. Women often went down on him. He knew how to do it, sucking with wet sounds. But Zhang Zhun had never been blown before. His butt started trembling, unconscious moans coming from his mouth, his two hands reaching down to hold Zhen Xin’s head, scratching at his hair.

Zhen Xin held Zhang Zhun’s butt tight, pushing him into his own mouth. Zhang Zhun made crying like humming sounds, clearly unable to take such intense pleasure. Zhen Xin felt he was about to come, so he slowed down, swallowing more and more shallowly, and finally let him go. Zhang Zhun rubbed his legs and arched in his arms, seeming awake, yet seeming drunk. Zhen Xin stroked his hair, kissing his collarbone while asking: “Feels good?”

Zhang Zhun answered him with a kiss. Very passionate, very hungry. His tongue roamed his mouth, his teeth gnawed at his chin, his limbs flexibly wrapping around him. Zhen Xin never thought he would be this proactive. He hadn’t even dared to imagine it, so excited he felt overwhelmed with gratitude. Zhang Zhun’s movements grew more and more wanton, his strength growing greater, pulling at Zhen Xin, even wanting to press him underneath. Zhen Xin used a lot of effort to flip back, holding his chin: “You better look clearly. Who am I!”

Zhang Zhun fluttered his eyelashes, his hazy eyes half closed, somewhat sluggishly saying: “Fang Chi…”

Zhen Xin was choked speechless. Fang Chi it is then. Better than his girlfriend. He kissed him again, using all his tenderness and affection, wishing he could die on Zhang Zhun. At this moment the doorbell rang. Zhen Xin straightened up in panic, listened for a while, no more sound. He wiped his sweat, looked at the person still writhing beneath him, and suddenly felt a wave of guilt. He wanted to get out of bed, but at this moment Zhang Zhun bent one leg, revealing the round curve of his butt, and at the end of that curve, the mysterious slit.

Zhen Xin swallowed hard, carefully parted his legs. The bedside lamp was too dim, he couldn’t see clearly at all. In a kneeling position he pressed his penis up against him, trying to push into the possible destination. After pushing for a long time, he finally felt he’d found the right place. He put force into his waist, but no matter how he pushed he couldn’t get in. Recalling the scenes from those porn films, he cursed: “Damn, what’s going on!”

Zhang Zhun might have felt pain. One hand landed on his leg, his eyes opening and closing, pitifully losing his senses. Zhen Xin thought about it and still gave up, kissing his knee reluctantly. The drunk Zhang Zhun had no bottom line, grabbing Zhen Xin’s hand and putting it on his own lower body. Zhen Xin held it firmly, circling his own thing with his hand too. The two of them jerked each other off.

The night was deep, the warm yellow light hot enough to roast. They tossed on the bed, breathing at the same frequency. Zhen Xin looked at Zhang Zhun’s face about to climax, couldn’t hold it and came first. Zhang Zhun followed right after, thrusting his waist and shooting three or four spurts, all over his neck and chest, a few stray drops on his face. Zhen Xin’s first thought was to grab a pillowcase to wipe him, but soon, a second thought popped up.

He got out of bed, fished his phone from his pants pocket, sat on the headboard, pointed the camera at Zhang Zhun’s face. Half asleep and half awake, Zhang Zhun stared blankly at the phone. Click. Zhen Xin pressed the shutter.

Hearing a door closing next door, Little Deng jumped out of bed in one move, put on his shoes and opened the door to look out. He saw a figure turning the corner at the far end of the long corridor, looking like Zhen Xin. He pressed Zhang Zhun’s doorbell again. Still no response. Scratching his head, he went back to his room to sleep.