Deep in the Act: Chapter 19

“Bro, what are we shooting today,” in the elevator, Xiao Deng said while playing with his phone. “Character posters.”

Zhang Zhun frowned. “Shooting this early?”

“It seems the set for the next scene isn’t ready yet. Director Chen said to shoot it when we have time.”

The elevator reached the top floor. The morning restaurant was always crowded. The two of them lined up, walked around the buffet counter once, and sat down in a booth with bread and coffee.

“Brother Wu is going too,” Xiao Deng tore open the sugar packet for Zhang Zhun and spread the butter. “And Zhen Xin.”

Zhang Zhun’s hand mixing the salad paused for a moment. “Where are we shooting, do you know the plan?”

Xiao Deng blinked mysteriously. “It seems we still have to take our clothes off.”

Zhang Zhun was about to say something when someone slapped his shoulder with a loud smack. He looked up. It was Wu Rong, holding a plate and grinning, showing two dimples. “Move in a bit.”

It was a four person booth. Zhang Zhun moved to the inside. Wu Rong plopped down. “Yesterday’s scene, damn, I still haven’t recovered,” he said with an expression somewhere between excitement and disgust, his face glowing red. “Thinking back, it was absolutely insane!” As he spoke, he habitually put his arm around Zhang Zhun’s shoulder.

“Did you report to your wife?” Zhang Zhun raised one eyebrow, looking at him in a bland way.

Wu Rong laughed, laughing shamelessly, leaning in very close to him like they were discussing something very private. “You shooting this stuff… didn’t your girlfriend make a fuss?”

Zhang Zhun was almost face to face with him, their mouths only a few centimeters apart, but he was very calm. “I have a girlfriend. You have a wife. It’s different.”

Wu Rong was acting all cheeky, like he was digging for some secret, his eyes shining bright. “What, can you still break up or something?”

Zhang Zhun knew he never said anything serious, so he couldn’t be bothered to talk to him. His gaze shifted and he saw Zhen Xin. He was carrying a bowl of hot tangyuan and freshly squeezed orange juice, walking toward them. Zhang Zhun couldn’t describe his own mood. He felt like Zhen Xin was walking toward him. Subconsciously he wanted to pull away from Wu Rong, while at the same time glancing at Xiao Deng to see if there was enough room for him to sit.

Zhen Xin also saw him. His dark eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t come over. He took a longer route and sat at a square table.

From this point on, Zhang Zhun became absent minded. Xiao Deng said, “Brother Wu, your next scene is a bed scene, right?”

Wu Rong nodded tragically, his hand gripping Zhang Zhun’s neck and squeezing hard. “Zhun, tell me, after all these years of acting, who have I ever been scared of? I’m really scared of you!”

Zhang Zhun looked at him blankly, but in his mind he was thinking about those narrowed dark eyes. Wu Rong’s mouth was moving. He said, “How come when I press down on you, I just can’t act anymore!”

Zhen Xin was completely ignoring him. This realization made Zhang Zhun’s heart feel sour, with a cool sense of loss. Suddenly aware of his own loss, he fell into a panic of not knowing what to do.

“Zhun… Zhun!” Wu Rong’s rough thumb scraped against the sensitive skin at the base of his neck, raising a patch of fine goosebumps. “Tell your brother, that kind of scene… how did you shoot it with that crazy guy?”

Zhang Zhun helplessly waved away his hand. “Brother, please spare me!”

The poster shoot was at the Bund, in a not very large private studio. The photographer’s surname was Zhu, a woman in her forties, with prematurely white short hair, long limbs and tall, at first glance looking like a handsome guy. The costumes were brought by the production crew, three sets of pure black satin tuxedos. Zhou Zheng rode in the car with them, and on the way he told the main actors, “Be careful what you say in a bit. That Sister Zhu,” he curled his index finger, somewhat mockingly, “is gay.”

She was the kind of person you could tell was gay at a glance. Her face was delicate, but she looked at men coldly. Holding a huge Hasselblad, she pointed at Zhang Zhun and said, “You, come here and let me see.”

They were about the same height. Zhang Zhun put on the tuxedo and stood gracefully in front of her, with a red cummerbund and black bow tie, like a brand new painting. Sister Zhu observed him from head to toe, then called to the photography assistant, “Xiao Hai, give the white ones to him, the red ones to Zhen Xin.”

The assistant named Xiao Hai brought out two large baskets of roses from the prop room, one basket red and one basket white. The baskets were shallow and long, a very rare vintage style. When Wu Rong heard this he wasn’t having it. “Hey, I say, what about mine?”

Sister Zhu ignored him and said to Xiao Hai, “Shoot the solo photos first. Give me Rembrandt lighting.”

She shot commercial photos differently from others. Other people used studio lighting, but she insisted on using a kind of oil painting like yellow light. Under the thick halo of light, Zhen Xin carried a basket of red roses, throwing a proud gaze into the lens. The white pocket square on his left chest was folded into a straight line, echoing the highlight on his right shoulder from afar.

He was handsome. Wu Rong had to admit it, with a bit of mystery and a bit of decadence. Even the scorched black roses under the strong light were not as dazzling as him. “This kid is really handsome!” He turned his head and saw Zhang Zhun’s expression. How to describe it? Somewhat evasive, somewhat entangled, and some indescribable feeling, like some kind of desperate adoration.

Soon it was Zhang Zhun’s turn. He was small in build, and a basket of flowers looked cumbersome no matter how you looked at it. Sister Zhu simply had him put down the basket and go hold that bunch of several dozen roses. “Like Princess Sissi,” she said. “Hold them gracefully.”

What kind of hold was graceful? Zhang Zhun didn’t know, but he had watched Princess Sissi as a child. Under the crystal chandelier, the way Sissi held the roses, he could never forget. That was a true princess, pure as an angel, innocent as a child.

Long stemmed white roses, under the yellow light, showed a delicate creamy color, abundantly and lushly blooming on him. Zhang Zhun was a bit shy, squeezing out a hazy smile.

After the shoot, he came down from the set and carefully handed the roses to Xiao Hai. But Sister Zhu had them throw the flowers on the ground and step on them with their feet, trampling the branches and vines until they were scattered, then called Wu Rong over. “Teacher Wu, please squat in the middle for a bit.”

Wu Rong looked at Zhou Zheng. “This is the treatment you get as a supporting role, huh,” his mouth was sour, but he still quickly walked into the frame, stylishly tilting his head, putting his muscular arm toward the camera, and squatting dashingly. “For my junior brother’s sake, I’ll endure it!”

Zhen Xin snorted disdainfully, glancing toward Zhang Zhun. It happened that Zhang Zhun was also looking at him. Under the warm yellow Rembrandt light, the contours of his face changed in countless ways, and his expression was rich with a classical kind of romance. Zhang Zhun quickly moved his eyes away, like a thief whose tracks had been discovered.

Zhen Xin felt that something had indeed been stolen from him, otherwise he wouldn’t have lost his soul like this, his heart tightening and panicking. So much so that when Sister Zhu called him to shoot the duo photos, he didn’t know what expression to use facing Zhang Zhun.

A simple set of kissing photos, but Zhen Xin had to hold his hand. In the past Zhang Zhun was numb and accepting, no matter how he was teased, he had a kind of nearly rigid restraint. Now he showed a youthful, vividly animated shyness. The closer Zhen Xin pressed in, the more he retreated.

This ambiguous distance born of hidden motives, everyone on set could feel it. Zhen Xin was a bit anxious. Before the distance was right he rashly moved his mouth forward. Zhang Zhun timidly dodged. After dodging he felt it wasn’t right, secretly sizing him up with a half lit half dark expression. Zhen Xin was made a bit agitated, pulling the person and moving forward again. Back and forth three or four times, the two of them were like a pair of courting macaws on a tortoiseshell stand, suddenly raising their gorgeous feathers, probing each other.

“Hey, that guy,” Wu Rong felt something was off and asked Zhou Zheng, “What are those two doing, reading each other’s faces?”

Zhou Zheng was vague about it. “Finding the feeling, I guess.”

“Two handsome guys,” Sister Zhu had been focusing for a long time and finally spoke up. “If you want to flirt, please go back and flirt slowly. I just want you to kiss, short and sweet, okay?”

Someone among the photography assistants laughed. Zhen Xin got fierce and bit Zhang Zhun’s mouth in one go, just holding it there, nothing else. Zhang Zhun stared blankly with his eyes open, looking at him from a distance so close it was blurry. The nonstop flashing lights were like countless shattered dreams. In the dreams reflected the light of the other person’s pupils. At the end of the light was a stretch of pitch black sea, and the soul was intoxicated in those waves.

Sister Zhu pressed the shutter while saying, “Princesses, can you give some reaction? Is your tongue just for show?”

They had chemistry. As long as the corner of Zhen Xin’s lips moved slightly, Zhang Zhun knew to open his mouth, obediently welcoming him with a wet oral cavity. This chemistry was built on fifteen absurd evenings and mornings, lying on one bed, passionately rubbing against each other in the blue light after the screening ended.

“Damn…” Wu Rong was completely dumbstruck, tugging at Zhou Zheng’s sleeve. “This, I, I can’t do this. It’s too damn passionate!”

Zhou Zheng glanced at him sideways, thinking to himself, Teacher Wu, you are overthinking it, really.

When it was Wu Rong’s turn to go up, his legs were a bit weak. Zhen Xin came out of the frame, arrogantly brushing past him. Zhang Zhun waited for him under light like an old church, half his face lit up, the other half in shadow, his smile seeming both distant and near.

The closer he walked toward him, the more he felt a subtle tension, like a bottomless abyss sucking people in. Wu Rong coughed uncomfortably, shrugging his shoulders, and stood opposite Zhang Zhun.

“Brother, how do you want to do this,” Zhang Zhun said, his eyes and brows more affectionate than himself. “I’ll cooperate with you.”

It was probably the magic of the lighting, Wu Rong thought. “Well, I should be the one cooperating with you,” he looked nervous. “This kind of thing, I have no experience either.”

Sister Zhu had Xiao Hai fold a flower for each of them and put it in their suit breast pockets. Zhang Zhun put his in and stepped forward, the tips of his shoes pressing against Wu Rong’s shoe tips, the white rose pressing against Wu Rong’s chest. Of course Wu Rong’s red rose also pressed against him.

“Brother, I’m coming?” His breath sprayed on Wu Rong’s chin.

“Come on.” The light was too strong to tell, but Wu Rong’s face was red. He straightened up a bit, feeling itchy in his heart.

Zhang Zhun slightly went on tiptoe, his moist lips brushing against his lips like a dragonfly touching water, a harmless kiss. The flash started going off. After it went off, Zhang Zhun moved away. Wu Rong blurted out, “Zhun, why are you acting like a girl.”

“Huh?” Zhang Zhun was stunned. Wu Rong hugged him in one go, chest pressed against chest, mouths needless to say, twisting at an angle and rubbing against each other in front of the camera. Zhang Zhun subconsciously grabbed Wu Rong’s suit collar, his knuckles twisting badly in the light. Sister Zhu was very appreciative, seizing the moment to snap shots. “Good, Teacher Wu, very good, hold it!”

This kiss looked intense but was actually fake. Wu Rong’s tongue had been hiding behind his teeth the whole time, not daring to move at all. The onlookers didn’t think so. Zhen Xin said loudly from below, “This is called no experience? Teacher Wu, you are too modest!”

Wu Rong didn’t put up with his attitude, letting go of Zhang Zhun, glaring back at him with his whole body’s momentum, his brows sharply furrowed, with a kind of startling fierceness. “Next time for this kind of thing I go first, so I don’t have to eat your spit!”

This expression was too vivid. Zhen Xin was stunned by his blunt directness. Sister Zhu also couldn’t resist snapping two shots. The photography assistants whispered in the corner, “Wow, worthy of being an action star, I really want to worship him as big brother!”

The atmosphere became awkward. Zhang Zhun was about to leave the shooting area when Sister Zhu called out to him, “Your flowers…” She grabbed a small camera from the workbench, wooden body, seemed to have some years on it. “Please stand side by side.”

Only then did Zhang Zhun notice the rose on his chest. Because of the sudden kiss, it had been flattened by Wu Rong’s chest pressing against it, half wilted on the small tuxedo. Wu Rong’s was the same, flattened on his chest. There seemed to be no better sexual innuendo than this.

During the kiss, Zhang Zhun didn’t feel very shy. But now he was so embarrassed he couldn’t raise his head. Sister Zhu really liked him like this, pressing the shutter enthusiastically. “The feeling is right, there’s an atmosphere of having an affair. Yes, Teacher Wu, move a bit closer!”

Zhang Zhun looked up and saw Zhen Xin’s face, smoking a cigarette, his two eyes dark and heavy, staring at him even more intensely than Sister Zhu’s camera. He was jealous, blatantly so. Discovering that Zhang Zhun had finally turned his gaze toward him, his temper immediately flared up. He stubbed out the cigarette and shouted, “Give me the keys, I’ll wait for you in the car!”

Zhou Zheng hurriedly called out to him, “Teacher Zhen, there’s still one more set!”

Zhen Xin made a puzzled expression. Zhou Zheng said, “Director Chen arranged it, shoot double, there’s another set showing two points.”

Sister Zhu wiped her lens while saying, “My suggestion, split into two groups. Wu Rong in Group A, Zhen Xin in Group B. Group A goes first, Group B goes out,” she looked at Wu Rong, then at Zhen Xin. “I’m afraid they’ll start fighting while shooting.”

“Well, I say,” Wu Rong hadn’t quite figured it out. “Why am I in Group A?”

Sister Zhu found it quite funny. “Wasn’t it you who requested it, that for this kind of thing you go first.”

Wu Rong couldn’t say anything for a long time, his neck stiff, turning in place two circles, tilting his head, accepting it. He threw off his jacket and yanked open his bow tie, revealing a shirt stretched tight. Sister Zhu turned back and asked Zhang Zhun, “Do you need me to find a changing room for you?”

Zhang Zhun shook his head and also started undressing on the spot. He and Wu Rong both came from martial arts backgrounds. Before shooting they had a habit of doing push ups first, usually thirty to fifty. The muscles came out very nicely, moistened with sweat, with a kind of fleshy beauty. Both Wu Rong and Zhang Zhun had this kind of body. Zhen Xin stared at them obsessively out of the corner of his eye. Sister Zhu saw it and called Xiao Hai, “Take Teacher Zhen to the break room to sit for a while.”

Zhen Xin understood what she meant. He didn’t need Xiao Hai to lead him, directly heading for the main door. He pushed it open and looked back. Zhang Zhun and Wu Rong were standing flesh against flesh. He moved his eyes away, let go of his hand, and the door slammed shut behind him.