Deep in the Act: Chapter 47

Zhen Xin left at dawn, head down, tiptoeing, boiling and buzzing with excitement, walking up to the thirty eighth floor. In the morning, right when breakfast had just opened, he went to the dining room first thing, just wanting to see Zhang Zhun a bit earlier.

Zhang Zhun didn’t come. Xiao Deng didn’t show up either. His phone sat beside cooling milk. He stared at that pitch black screen, ultimately not daring to pick it up. Near the end of breakfast, Xiao Wang came, carrying a plate of food. “Teacher Zhen, Brother Zhou went to find extras, asked me to tell you,” he pulled a crumpled sticky note from his pants pocket. “There’s an interview this morning, it’s warm up publicity. Director Chen wants you and Teacher Zhang Zhun to go.”

On the paper was written the media outlet, time, and location of the interview. Zhen Xin took it, asking in a seemingly casual manner. “Zhang Zhun’s going too, how come I didn’t see him come down for breakfast?”

“Huh?” Xiao Wang was caught off guard by his question. “Don’t know, maybe not up yet. I told Brother Deng, the car leaves downstairs in a bit.”

The car left at nine thirty, a Ford Edge. When Zhen Xin came down, Xiao Deng was standing by the car with Zhang Zhun. He walked over, not daring to blink his eyes, afraid of missing a single glance from Zhang Zhun, or a hint of a smile. “Why aren’t you getting in the car?” he pretended to ask casually, but his heart was pounding, suppressing it with all his might just to keep a straight face.

To see Zhang Zhun, he had really put effort into dressing up. Black leather jacket and knee high boots, hair sprayed with gel, a multifaceted metal earring on his left ear, giving off a handsome to the point of annoying masculinity. But Zhang Zhun didn’t look at him, not even sparing him a glance. He turned around and got in the car, his lower body moving somewhat strangely. Zhen Xin immediately realized he was hurt, quickly walking around to the other side of the car and pulling open the door. “Running a fever?”

He was running a fever. Xiao Deng had come to call Zhang Zhun for breakfast early that morning and found him with a low grade fever. At that time he had said he was preoccupied, his constitution declining… Xiao Deng had always thought of himself as a dumb person, slow, foolish, one tracked. He didn’t know what came over him now, a thought suddenly bursting into his mind. He stared in disbelief, shock watching Zhen Xin climb into the car and slam the door.

Only when the driver honked the horn did he barely come back to his senses, sitting in the passenger seat. His ge seemed very uncomfortable, sitting crooked, head leaning back against the headrest. Zhen Xin didn’t show anything, looking out the window, that expression, looking like the guilty party who started it all.

Xiao Deng turned back around. The car started moving. The driver seemed to be in a good mood, saying cheerfully. “Today’s weather, really nice huh?”

As a result, not a single person responded to him. He awkwardly glanced in the rearview mirror and wisely shut his mouth.

The interview borrowed a TV station’s studio. The corridor was narrow like an emergency passage, with many maze like corners. Zhen Xin was enthusiastically led by the program staff walking up front. Xiao Deng supported Zhang Zhun following behind. The studio wasn’t large. Under the lights were three chairs placed, two of them pushed together. Zhang Zhun was sweating profusely, randomly picking one and sitting down.

Zhen Xin was surrounded by several program staff making small talk. He turned his head and saw this, naturally calling out. “Hey, sit in that chair over there.”

Zhang Zhun was breaking out in cold sweats, not thinking much, lightly moving over. Only after sitting did he discover that while the two chairs looked the same, this one’s cushion was slightly thicker. The small talk briefly paused. Zhen Xin sensed this. This pause wasn’t quite normal, because of his abrupt display of true feelings. The program staff exchanged glances, politely asking him to sit in the other chair.

The reporter was ready, a tomboyish girl. Zhen Xin was close to her, taking a pair of earpieces, passing one to Zhang Zhun. The instant of finger contact made him feel so sweet he almost melted. “Need help?” he whispered. Zhang Zhun shook his head, struggling to clip the earpiece box onto his waist. Staff began checking equipment, then started rolling.

The questions basically revolved around the film itself, story, team, cast. Zhen Xin found one question quite interesting. That tomboy asked him quite seriously. “From the information released so far, you play the active party in the film. Teacher Zhang Zhun is from an action star background, his physique, stamina, and all aspects, did you feel pressure when filming the intimate scenes?”

Zhen Xin burst out laughing, truly unable to hold back his laughter. This kind of question could actually be brushed aside. Any interview needs one or two explosive points. Even the program staff hadn’t expected him to answer head on. “Yes,” he pinched his chin and nodded shyly. “Indeed yes,” his eyes casually swept over, seeing a piece of paper debris on Zhang Zhun’s black pants. Subconsciously, he wanted to brush it off for him. Zhang Zhun’s reaction was also quick, with a smack he swatted his hand away. A tiny movement, no one paid attention. Zhen Xin said. “His physique is really great, not very bulky, but…” he half seriously half jokingly threw Zhang Zhun a glance. “Feels good to the touch.”

The surrounding staff all covered their mouths laughing. Moderate humor made the interview come alive. The tomboy continued asking. “What about Teacher Zhang Zhun?”

Zhang Zhun was startled for a moment. “Intimate scenes…” he sat up straighter. “I’ve always felt a lot of pressure.”

At this point you could tell, he was someone who said what was on his mind, making people unable to help but listen seriously. “I was always filming action scenes before, very lacking in the acting department. When I first found out I’d be acting opposite Teacher Zhen, every hair on my body stood up.”

“That exaggerated?” the tomboy asked in surprise. Zhen Xin stroked his chin watching him. These words, it was the first time he was hearing him say them.

“Not exaggerated, really,” Zhang Zhun’s voice was low, like chatting with a friend, without a trace of performance. “Because we were in the same production before, though we had no interaction, but I saw his acting. He really…” he glanced at Zhen Xin, immediately guiltily looking away. “He’s a genius. I never thought there would be a day I’d act opposite him,” pausing, he added. “I didn’t dare to think it.”

Quiet for a moment, Zhen Xin lowered his head, forcefully trying to blink his moist eyes dry. The tomboy asked again. “Then finally collaborating on this film, how do you feel?”

Maybe from weakness, maybe from pain, Zhang Zhun smiled faintly. “Feels good.”

Zhen Xin raised his head, following him with an understanding smile.

Overall, the interview process was very pleasant, less than an hour total, finally probably edited down to about forty minutes. Shaking hands and saying goodbye, Zhang Zhun walked out first. Crossing the threshold he tripped, falling toward the wall. Zhen Xin rushed up from behind, hugging him to support him. Maybe from fear, or from hurting too much, Zhang Zhun’s hands had no measure, pushing him away, pushing him out to crash into the opposite wall.

Everyone froze. But the two of them didn’t think anything of it, completely subconscious. Zhen Xin didn’t even have an extra expression, urgently leaning forward again. Zhang Zhun still wouldn’t let him support him, saying softly. “Stay away from me!”

Only then did Zhen Xin reluctantly let go, watching him slowly walk out, with a kind of endurance that only he knew. The program staff accompanied them, sending them to the underground parking lot. Getting in the car, Zhen Xin’s temper flared up, shouting at the driver. “Where’s Xiao Deng, where did he run off to!”

The driver started the car. “He uh… seemed to have something and left first, told us not to wait.”

Zhen Xin couldn’t say what this feeling was, just that his heart was burning with anxiety. The person he wanted to care for he couldn’t care for, the words he wanted to say he didn’t dare say. He wished he could turn this world upside down, wished he could throw everything away and be done with it!

Xiao Deng paid the fare, carrying a plastic bag into the hotel, running into Xiao Wang at the elevator, exchanging greetings.

“What’d you buy,” Xiao Wang tugged his bag. “Food?” He looked greedy. Xiao Dodged his hand, he kept tugging. One tug, a flat box fell out. The three characters “Ma Ying Long” were very conspicuous. Xiao Deng’s face instantly flushed red. Xiao Wang was a bit embarrassed, picking it up for him. “Flared up?”

Xiao Deng rolled his eyes. “For under eye bags okay, I didn’t sleep well!”

“What’s there to be embarrassed about,” the elevator came, Xiao Wang pushed him in, pressing 37 and 38. “Actually…” he leaned in close, lowering his voice. “I have it too!”

Xiao Deng shooed him away like some disgusting thing. The elevator arrived, he walked out, stopping in front of Zhang Zhun’s door, playing with his phone while waiting. After waiting over half an hour, someone came from the elevator area. He glanced, it was Zhen Xin. Zhen Xin also saw him, hesitated, then turned around to walk back.

“Hey!” Xiao Deng called him, very impolitely. Zhen Xin thought about it, came back around, approaching Xiao Deng. That kid threw the plastic bag into his hand, hands in pockets, head down and left. Zhen Xin was baffled, looking at the things in the bag, not knowing what they were. He pulled out his keycard, opened the door and went in. Before long, Zhang Zhun came up. He shamelessly pressed up against him. “You okay,” his voice carrying a lazy lust. “Let me see?”

Zhang Zhun pushed him. “Cut it out, it hurts,” seeing the plastic bag on the table, he asked. “What’s that?”

Zhen Xin wanted to pretend to be unhappy, but couldn’t pull it off completely, muffled. “Xiao Deng gave it to you.”

Zhang Zhun opened it to look, his face instantly burning red. “I’m annoyed just looking at you!” he said, taking off his clothes while talking, not avoiding Zhen Xin at all. Outer clothes, outer pants, shirt, socks, pulling his underwear down from his hip bones, stepping on them with his foot. Zhen Xin stared wide eyed watching. This aimless sexiness made him lose his mind.

Zhang Zhun grabbed that bag of stuff, naked into the bathroom. For a long time, Zhen Xin didn’t hear water running. Pacing at the door, he curiously pushed it open, then froze.

Zhang Zhun sat on the toilet, one leg down, the other foot on the toilet seat, hand reaching from the front down below, looking like he was… Zhen Xin’s eyes went straight, a “gulp” in his throat, instantly feeling consumed by desire.

Zhang Zhun glanced at him, not showing too much embarrassment, just somewhat bashful. His chin pointed toward the sink counter, where a tube of ointment and an open box of suppositories sat. “Don’t think useless thoughts,” he muttered. “I’m applying medicine.”

Zhen Xin stared dead at his spread crotch and moving fingers. “Ah, I, I know…”

“Get out!” Seeing he wouldn’t leave, Zhang Zhun roared at him.

Zhen Xin was sticky and clinging. “No…” that gaze was like it had hooks, hooked on and wouldn’t let go. “Let me look, okay?”

“Look at your mother,” Zhang Zhun was made awkward by this hooligan energy, red from ear tips to toes. “Are you sick, what are you thinking.”

Zhen Xin was certain he had no way to deal with him, so he wouldn’t leave, leaning back against the doorframe, drooling as he blatantly watched, while watching, pressing his hand on his lower body, rubbing through his pants.

Zhang Zhun seeing him like this, cursed in disbelief. “Holy shit…” then grabbed the medicine box, throwing it right at his face. “You get the hell out of here!”

The medicine box grazed his chin and fell to the floor, bullet sized suppositories scattering everywhere. Zhen Xin dawdling turned around, eyes still slanting toward him. “Not even letting me look,” looking wronged, he retorted. “We’ve already slept together…”

“Leaving or not?” Zhang Zhun glared at him, with quite the action star momentum. Zhen Xin was afraid, not afraid of him hitting him, but afraid he wouldn’t let him near anymore. So he deflated and walked out, closing the door behind him.

Five minutes later, Zhang Zhun came out, fever medicine swallowed with water, naked climbing onto the bed. His butt probably hurt, he lay face down. Zhen Xin was playing with his phone on the sofa, seeing him about to sleep over so obediently, immediately became restless, taking off clothes and throwing pants, stripping himself completely bare, impatiently burrowing under the quilt, flesh against flesh, hugging him from behind.

He obsessively sniffed Zhang Zhun’s hair, lightly biting his earlobe, frowning. Zhang Zhun struggled a bit. “Don’t mess around…” Zhen Xin immediately stopped moving, his knee rubbing against the back of his knee, closing his eyes. At this point his excited lower body was still slightly hard.

The next day filming resumed, it was Zhen Xin and Zhang Zhun’s scene, in a dance studio in Xujiahui. The space was large, Zhou Zheng had probably found over a hundred extras, still couldn’t fill the frame, so they had to start shooting first and add effects in post. The music wasn’t loud, playing Sunwoo Junga’s “Spring Girl.” Dozens of male dancers practiced movements according to the choreographer’s requirements. Besides sound recording and lighting being in position, almost all female staff gathered around the rehearsal area not moving.

Chen Zhengsen was explaining the scene to Zhang Zhun. Zhen Xin was bored and went over to join the fun. Those dancers all wore heavy makeup, exposing beautiful muscles, jeans waistbands half covering their buttocks, could tell some weren’t wearing underwear at all.

The girls blushed and squealed softly. The dancers’ downright obscene movements made them unusually excited. Forget them, this atmosphere, this rhythm, Zhen Xin’s adrenaline also spiked. Those strong shoulders, those sweat drenched waist muscles. He squinted watching, hearing two production assistants chatting behind him. “What’s this called, a stud’s waist?”

“Right, you tell me, people these days, all gone crazy.”

“Shameless, look how they’re mesmerizing those girls.”

“Can’t deny it, this waist, if you asked me to do it, I really couldn’t.”

“That bad?” speaking here, the voice suddenly dropped. “Isn’t it just fucking.”

The other giggled, also lowering his voice. “My physique is pretty good right, at most five.”

“Then by your logic, no one in our crew could do it?”

“That guy could, Zhang Zhun, he’s been training his body since he was little, definitely electric hips!”

Hearing this name, Zhen Xin from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head, whoosh, went numb like he’d been pricked by needles. From this point until filming ended, his soul never came back from Zhang Zhun’s body. When tightly holding “Gao Zhun” in his arms, he was truly hard, just like written in the script, “lower body pressing forward,” teasingly asking. “Shall we go home?”