Deep in the Act: Chapter 3

When Zhang Zhun heard the word “signing the contract” from Assistant Director Zhou over the phone, his worries outweighed his happiness. Three days later, standing in the lobby of the Ocean Star Hotel with his luggage in tow, the very thing he had been worrying about came true. Zhen Xin had arrived earlier, wearing a hoodie with the hood pulled down low over his face, leaning casually against the front desk. Zhang Zhun recognized him at first glance. So unrestrained.

Assistant Director Zhou came over with a room card. “Teacher Zhang, room 3804.”

Zhang Zhun took the card, but before he could say thank you, Assistant Director Zhou said, “The director wants you two to get to know each other well. Two weeks.”

Zhang Zhun looked at him, puzzled. Assistant Director Zhou said sheepishly, “It’s a suite, but there are two beds.”

Zhang Zhun looked over at Zhen Xin, not far away. He was holding another card, his face hidden in the shadow of the hood, his expression unreadable. Assistant Director Zhou explained, “The shooting schedule was set the day before yesterday. The intimate scenes will be shot first, so you two need to…”

Zhang Zhun nodded to show he understood. Assistant Director Zhou was clearly embarrassed to be telling him this. He patted Zhang Zhun on the shoulder, made an excuse, and hurried off. Meanwhile, Zhen Xin was dragging a suitcase, slowly making his way over. “Do you snore?”

Zhang Zhun still couldn’t quite bring himself to meet his eyes. “Do your feet stink?”

Zhen Xin smiled, one corner of his mouth higher than the other. One arm draped naturally over Zhang Zhun’s shoulder. Zhang Zhun didn’t say anything, but the spot where he was touched felt hot. They took the elevator up to the thirty-eighth floor. At first, all kinds of people came and went, but after the twenty-fifth floor, the crowd gradually thinned out. The service elevator grew quiet, and you could hear the uneven breathing.

“I tried two more that day,” Zhen Xin said casually, out of nowhere, not looking at Zhang Zhun.

Zhang Zhun knew what he was talking about, but didn’t know how to respond. “Oh.”

“My mouth went numb.”

Zhang Zhun couldn’t hold back a laugh. Zhen Xin laughed too, the back of his head resting against the elevator wall, turning to look at him. “I picked you.”

Zhang Zhun lowered his eyes. “Then I should thank you.”

“How are you going to thank me?”

Zhang Zhun thought he was getting into character too early, his delicate brows knitting together in distress. “You pick the bed first?”

Zhen Xin turned away, disappointed. “Boring!”

Zhang Zhun was a simple, earnest person, not much for joking. “Then you tell me.”

Zhen Xin stared at the clear reflection of the two of them on the elevator ceiling. “I’ll pick first on the bed.”

Zhang Zhun was stunned. He was about to ask what he meant when, with a ding, the thirty-eighth floor arrived. Zhen Xin held the door open for him to go first. He dragged his luggage out, walked down the long corridor looking for the room, then swiped the card to open the door. He immediately forgot about what had just been said.

There really were two beds, the pillows neatly arranged, the corners of the quilts folded halfway down, each with a rose on top. Zhen Xin came in after him, took one look, and said offhandedly, “It’s a honeymoon room.”

Zhang Zhun’s face flushed red. He tried to hide it, but how could he? Zhen Xin watched him with a grin. “How about… we go check out the bathroom too?”

Zhang Zhun’s face grew even redder. He threw the roses into the trash can, very unhappy. Zhen Xin wisely walked away, saying as he went, “You pick, give me whichever bed is left.”

Only then did Zhang Zhun remember his words, “I’ll pick first on the bed.” Vaguely, he understood what he meant. His face was already as red as it could get. He simply flopped down onto the bed.

From the other end of the room, Zhen Xin suddenly shouted, “Hey you, come here!”

Zhang Zhun jolted upright. This drama, this room, this co-star, all made him want to curse “to hell with it,” but work was work, and he had chosen this himself… He sat there blankly for a while, then reluctantly walked over.

It wasn’t Zhen Xin’s fault. Seeing the bathroom, Zhang Zhun was startled too. From the bathtub to the toilet, everything was open plan, separated from the bedroom by only a transparent glass wall. Everything was on full display.

“Damn it!” Zhen Xin was the first to get angry, not Zhang Zhun. It seemed he had been joking around, but when the crew played for real, he was the one left dumbfounded. “That Chen Zhengsen is no good!”

He pulled his hood up, grabbed his room card, and stormed out. Zhang Zhun’s mind went blank. He couldn’t imagine how he was going to spend fifteen days in this room with Zhen Xin, showering right in front of him, or watching him shower, acting out ambiguous, passionate scenes with him. He pressed his forehead, turned around, and saw the two large, soft beds again.

Zhen Xin must have gone to find Director Chen to demand a room change. Zhang Zhun was happy to let him, so he wasn’t in a rush to unpack. He bent down to take off his shoes and socks, changed into the flip-flops he had brought, and turned on the TV to Channel V.

Before long, Zhen Xin came back, dejected, holding a stack of something in his hands. Zhang Zhun kept his eyes on the screen. Rihanna’s “Diamonds” was playing, black and white film, bluish cold light. He stayed silent, waiting for Zhen Xin to speak.

It was a stack of DVDs. Zhen Xin casually spread them out on the TV stand. From a few meters away, Zhang Zhun recognized a few of them. There was “Brokeback Mountain,” “Farewell My Concubine,” and “Lan Yu.” He covered his brow bone with his hand in resignation and asked weakly, “What did Director Chen say?”

“What else could he say?” Zhen Xin pulled two sheets of paper from his chest. “The crew is doing us a huge favor by squeezing out time for us to build a connection, and we’re still trying to bargain?” He handed one of the sheets to Zhang Zhun. “The script for the first scene is out.”

Zhang Zhun took it and only glanced at it for a moment before his expression changed. “Does it have to be this… detailed?”

Zhen Xin’s expression wasn’t much better either. He furrowed his brows, absentmindedly fiddling with the DVDs. “We really need to build up that… connection.”

Zhang Zhun didn’t say anything. He ran a hand through his hair. “What DVDs are these, let me see.”

There were more than ten DVDs. Zhen Xin grabbed them all and sat down next to him to look through them together. Unfamiliar titles, bold covers. Some were Chinese, most were foreign. Zhang Zhun picked one up, his voice tight. “Have you seen this?”

“Not my kind of thing.”

Zhang Zhun thought about it very seriously. “I think we should set a schedule. Since this is work, let’s treat it as work.” He took a deep breath. “Watch DVDs at night, and the next morning we can… practice accordingly.”

He glanced tentatively at Zhen Xin. Zhen Xin was looking right back at him. The two of them locked eyes with an ambiguous gaze. For some reason, their gazes simultaneously drifted down toward each other’s lips. Zhang Zhun quickly turned his head away. “The rest counts as personal time. I’ll do my workouts, you do your thing. Just a normal working relationship.”

Zhen Xin stood up with his hands in his pockets. “What else could it be,” he sneered. “It’s not like we’re really gay.”

The major matters settled, the two of them began unpacking separately. Zhang Zhun picked the bed against the wall, so Zhen Xin piled his things on the bed by the window. The contract was signed, the filming period was three to six months, so neither of them had packed light. Zhang Zhun had a long-standing habit of being very organized. In the blink of an eye, he was done. He looked up again at Zhen Xin’s side and put his hand to his forehead. It was truly a mess.

“You…” He didn’t know what to say. Clothes, toiletries, all kinds of bottles and jars, even two pairs of sneakers, all thrown onto the bed, piled up into a peak. The suitcase was empty, but the bed was unusable.

Zhen Xin crossed his arms, annoyed. “So what!”

“All these years you’ve been filming…”

Zhen Xin interrupted him righteously. “I had assistants!”

True, assistants would help with a lot of things. Before leaving, his assistant Xiao Deng had been insisting on coming along, but Zhang Zhun hadn’t allowed it. Filming this kind of scene with a man, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to let go in front of someone he knew. Zhen Xin probably felt the same way.

Zhang Zhun lit a cigarette. “Does your assistant pack your home for you too?”

Zhen Xin retorted. “I have a girlfriend!”

Zhang Zhun raised one eyebrow. “You have a girlfriend?”

Zhen Xin publicly claimed to be single, in a dry spell, a waiting angel, a lonely male god. “Underground relationship, is that not allowed?”

Zhang Zhun smiled bitterly. No more pointless talk. He stuck the half-smoked cigarette into Zhen Xin’s hand, bent down, and helped him organize his things. Zhen Xin didn’t refuse. He stepped aside and leaned against the windowsill, smoking and talking to him. “I want to be on top.”

Zhang Zhun wasn’t really paying attention. “Why are you telling me about your girlfriend?”

Zhen Xin rolled his eyes. “I’m talking about with you.”

Zhang Zhun’s hands paused for a moment, then continued tidying. “We’re both men, what do you mean on top or not.”

“Anyway, it’s settled,” Zhen Xin finished the last drag of his cigarette, stubbed it out hard in the ashtray, pulled out the towel and face cream he had brought from the bed, and headed toward the bathroom. “Teacher Zhang, no peeking, okay?”

Zhang Zhun was starting to get used to his jokes. He replied easily. “I have a better body than you, what is there to look at.”

After Zhen Xin showered and came out, Zhang Zhun had already tidied up the room. By then, the sky was growing dark. The two of them went up to the hotel’s rooftop restaurant for dinner, signing the crew’s tab. Next to the restaurant was a gallery. They wandered around casually, then went back to the room to prepare for “work.”

The DVD was picked by Zhang Zhun. The title was “Free Fall.” Zhen Xin read the synopsis. “Why did you pick this one?”

Zhang Zhun turned on the DVD player and found the remote. “The cover looks more watchable.”

“Watchable” meant “conservative.” Zhen Xin took off his outer clothes and changed into sleep pants, lay down on his bed, and patted the pillow toward Zhang Zhun, who was also changing. “Come over.”

Zhang Zhun glared at him and walked toward his own bed, pressing the start button at the same time. Zhen Xin threw some sarcastic remarks his way. “What’s the point of watching from separate beds? Might as well watch by ourselves.”

Zhang Zhun thought he had a point. They were already here, already staying in a honeymoon room, what was the point of being fussy now? So he kicked Zhen Xin’s long legs aside a bit and got onto the bed. “Move over a little.”

Zhen Xin made a show of moving over, but the bed was only so big, there wasn’t much room to move. Shoulder pressed against shoulder, arm squeezed against arm, they began to watch. The opening credits were long. A man was running alone through the fir trees typical of Europe. The soundtrack was somewhat cold, somewhat oppressive. Zhen Xin suddenly leaned toward Zhang Zhun. Zhang Zhun tensed up, but Zhen Xin was only reaching over him to turn off the room light.

The curtains were drawn, the room completely dark, with only the white light from the screen illuminating their faces. For some reason, Zhang Zhun felt a quiet contentment. The movie told a sad story. A straight policeman was pursued by a handsome new recruit on the force. At first he refused, even feared it, but who can say for sure about feelings? A new world began with a semi-forced kiss at the edge of a forest. He fell into it like he was on drugs, even sleeping with a man behind his pregnant girlfriend’s back. When he lost everything in the end, Zhang Zhun shed tears.

“You cry a lot.” Zhen Xin pulled out a tissue from somewhere.

Zhang Zhun was a bit embarrassed and immediately covered his eyes. “The TV is too bright.”

“When we were filming ‘North High Peak,’ a martial arts instructor got injured, and you cried too. I remember.”

That did happen. Zhang Zhun couldn’t be bothered to hide it anymore. He was an emotionally sensitive person, more affected than others by partings and reunions, life and death. With a faint sheen of tears still in his eyes, he casually glanced over and saw a large roll of toilet paper next to Zhen Xin’s hand. “Why did you bring toilet paper?”

This time it was Zhen Xin’s turn to be embarrassed. He pushed the toilet paper back. “Just in case… Who knew this film would be so touching.”

Zhang Zhun didn’t say anything and awkwardly withdrew his gaze. Zhen Xin, whether explaining himself or being serious, said, “Let me tell you, watching this kind of film is useless. Man with man, man with woman, feelings are the same. It’s the bodies that are different.”

Saying that, he jumped off the bed, stood in the light from the TV, and pulled out the most bold and explicit DVD from the stack, putting it into the player. “This is what we need.”

He lay back down on the bed, took the remote from Zhang Zhun’s hand, and started playing. Compared to the previous film, this one was truly straightforward. Within five minutes of the opening, the two actors were already naked, and their lower bodies weren’t censored. Zhang Zhun stared at the two glistening, muscular bodies on the screen and pulled his arm away from where it was touching Zhen Xin’s. “I say… isn’t this a porn film?”

Zhen Xin didn’t say anything. He just placed that roll of toilet paper heavily on top of him and turned the volume up a few notches. Logically speaking, a man in his thirties or forties would have seen some gay porn, but the man on TV had his legs spread wide, twisting his waist and thrusting his hips in all kinds of positions, moaning like a sex machine without restraint. Zhang Zhun’s hair stood on end watching it. He secretly looked at where the two men were joined. The obscene, lewd, wet and slippery sight filled him with a strange fear.

Zhen Xin lightly touched his hair, then his ear. Zhang Zhun fought back the urge to resist, waiting for him to press his lips against his. This kiss was completely different from the previous ones, like biting, like teasing. His tongue licked from the gums to the back of the throat. Zhang Zhun couldn’t help but let out some moans. Against the backdrop of the TV’s wanton sounds, he hoped Zhen Xin hadn’t heard.

“Give me some reaction, will you, big actor?” Zhen Xin whispered against his ear, kneading his chest like he was playing with a woman. Zhang Zhun felt disgusted. He dodged while pulling at Zhen Xin’s wrist. “Wait, wait…”

Zhen Xin stopped, licked his lips, turned back to watch the TV, but not for long, maybe five minutes at most, before turning back again, reaching for his left earlobe, caressing it coaxingly. Zhang Zhun looked into his gentle, melancholy eyes and reluctantly allowed it. Zhen Xin kissed him again, his hands sliding along his ribs down to his buttocks, then pressing his whole body over. Zhang Zhun immediately felt that he had an erection, his hot penis pressing right against his inner thigh.

He turned his face away, pushing Zhen Xin down. Zhen Xin struggled with him a couple of times, but he wouldn’t let go. Zhen Xin gathered his hair, stared at him resentfully for a moment, got off the bed, and went to the bathroom. Zhang Zhun covered his face to calm down, turned on the light, and looked toward the bathroom. Through the slightly reflective glass wall, he saw Zhen Xin’s tall figure, naked, standing in front of the toilet, one hand against the wall tiles, the other moving rapidly in front of his body.