Full and satisfied, Song Shi'an slumped in his chair. His phone kept vibrating on the table, and when he picked it up, he saw it was the snack group.
Zhu Tao sent a meme of someone wanting to cry but having no tears, followed immediately by a voice message, his tone as aggrieved as if a scumbag had betrayed him: "Boss! Where did you run off to have fun when there's so much money to be made over the holiday?! Have you forgotten us?!"
Song Shi'an scrolled through the chat history and discovered that the group hadn't quieted down at all during his two-day absence.
Some people checked in every day to ask, "Is the boss back yet?" Others had started organizing a "clam vermicelli tasting group" on their own, while a few go-getters had already drawn a map based on his last stall location and posted it in the group, marking the "suspected boss sighting area."
Even more outrageous, the group had ballooned to over eight hundred members, and it was still growing.
Zhu Tao's video had passed two million views, piquing the curiosity of plenty of food influencers in the Capital who wanted to come taste for themselves just how good this snack stall without even a sign really was.
Song Shi'an typed and sent, "I'll be back on the evening of the sixth. I'll have something new for you."
The group instantly exploded.
Someone immediately replied, "Fantastic! I'm heading back on the sixth after the concert too!"
That set everyone below them talking about the concert again.
One said they'd snagged floor tickets, another said they'd only managed to get a seat in the stands, and someone else wailed that they hadn't gotten a ticket and had camped outside the venue all night just to hear the sound.
Song Shi'an watched their lively conversation. What a small world. The queen of pop's influence really was no joke; so many people in the group were going to her concert.
He put his phone down and cleared away the takeout containers.
Just as he tied up the trash bag, an incoming video call suddenly popped up, startling him so badly he nearly threw his phone.
The screen read "Mom."
Song Shi'an hesitated, then tapped to answer.
The image on the other end was still rather dim. Mother Song had probably just come home from working in the fields, and she hadn't finished wiping the sweat from her face.
Looking at her son on the screen, she visibly froze for quite a while before speaking. "Shi'an, where are you?"
Looking at Mother Song in the video, Song Shi'an suddenly felt a little reflective.
The original owner really did look like his mother. Though Mother Song was in her forties and worked in the fields back home every day, exposed to the wind and sun, her fine features were still there. Around her eyes and brows, he could see traces of how she had looked when she was young.
He held his phone up properly, trying to make himself look a little more normal on screen. "Mom, it's the holiday break, so I came out to film. I'm at the hotel now. I've got one more scene tomorrow, and then I'll be done."
After that, he smoothed the long hair hanging in front of him and lifted it to show Mother Song, grinning. "Long hair, huh? It's a wig. I haven't taken it off yet."
Mother Song laughed at his antics, fine wrinkles gathering at the corners of her eyes as they curved. "You've changed so much, Shi'an. You're more cheerful now."
Song Shi'an's smile stiffened for an instant. He immediately tossed the wig behind his back, his tone returning to normal. "Mom, your son's grown up, you know."
Mother Song looked at him with gratification. After they chatted a little more, she suddenly said, "Shi'an, I'm taking your aunt to a hospital in the Capital in a few days. I'll come see you then."
Song Shi'an smiled. "Sure. I'll be heading back once I finish filming in the next couple of days anyway."
Mother Song hesitated for a while, lowering her voice. "Well... I followed your Weibo and saw some nasty things people said. Does it make you feel pressured, Shi'an? I've heard people say you earn a lot in this line of work, but there's quite a bit of pressure too."
Song Shi'an's heart softened. Mother Song was still using the sort of smartphone she wasn't very good at operating.
She didn't know what anti-fans or marketing accounts were. She had simply seen those comments insulting her son and worried, but hadn't dared to ask. Only today had she cautiously brought it up.
"Don't worry, Mom." Song Shi'an kept his tone light. "Once I make money, you and Dad can retire without a worry. You can take walks and bask in the sun at home every day without having to do a thing."
Mother Song laughed at that, then chatted a little more about things at home before ending the video call.
After the screen went dark, Song Shi'an leaned against the back of his chair and stared into space for a while.
In the original owner's memories, his father was a man of few words who worked on construction sites year-round. His hands were covered in calluses, and he never said more than three sentences on the phone.
All his care and concern were conveyed through Mother Song. She alone shouldered the emotions on both sides, and still had to make everything sound casual for fear of worrying her son.
The years really wore people down.
He set his phone on the bedside table, yawned, and fell asleep as soon as he hit the bed.
The next morning, knocking jolted him awake.
Song Shi'an climbed out of bed, felt his way to the door with his eyes closed, and pulled it open.
Lin Fan stood outside with a cup of hot soy milk in his hand. The instant the door opened, he suffered another devastating blow from that beautiful face. Fine, no matter how many times he saw it, he was still stunned.
Song Shi'an rubbed his eyes, his voice still sleepy. "What time is it, Lin Fan?"
"It's five, bro. We still need to get you over there for makeup."
Song Shi'an yawned all the way to the set, where the makeup artist went to work on him again. This time, his makeup was considerably lighter than yesterday's. After all, Tushan Yan only had one shot in the heavenly realm, so there was no need to make it so elaborate.
Zhou Xuye's makeup, on the other hand, took quite a while. He went from a hot-blooded youth to an ascended immortal weathered by life's trials, with a little more steadiness in his eyes and brows.
Today, they were filming the scene where the male lead paid his respects to the Immortal Emperor after ascending.
After decades of arduous cultivation, Chu Zhaoci finally stepped through the gates of the immortal realm. He entered the immortal palace full of anticipation, his face brimming with dreams of the future.
Then he saw Tushan Yan standing beside the Immortal Emperor.
The same face, the same white robes, the same expression that wouldn't even spare him a proper glance.
The divine lord who had swept him off a cliff all those years ago was now holding a little white fox, idly stroking its ears without sparing him so much as a sideways glance.
Chu Zhaoci's expression shifted from anticipation to bitterness.
After decades of effort to reach this point, he still had to prostrate himself at the same person's feet in the end.
"Cut!" Director Sen rose from behind the monitor and shouted through his megaphone, "Zhou Xuye! You're supposed to be showing reverence for the strong and a desire to surpass them! Not unrequited love!! Tone down that look in your eyes. It's too tender!"
Zhou Xuye pursed his lips. He thought he'd done a pretty good job. Chu Zhaoci's feelings for Tushan Yan were complicated to begin with: admiration, hatred, unwillingness to concede, and a hint of some inexplicable obsession.
But the director said it wouldn't do, so he had no choice but to try again.
They had several more failed takes, each time because of the look in his eyes.
Song Shi'an wasn't impatient at all. He didn't have a single line today. His only job was to stand beside the Immortal Emperor holding that little white fox.
The fox was a captive-bred white fox the crew had specially borrowed. It had been brought to the set early that morning to bond with him. The trainer said it only needed to stay quietly in his arms during filming.
Song Shi'an thought this was simply the best perk of the day.
He stood in the immortal palace set with the little fox in his arms, his fingers stroking the white fur along its back, over and over.