Pei Yubai leaned against the door for a while, then went to take a shower.
The water was cold.
He turned the knob all the way to the left, and shuddered when the cold water poured down on him.
But his head still wouldn't clear. Those images seemed imprinted on the insides of his eyelids.
When he closed his eyes, he seemed to see long silver hair, wet and clinging to white skin. The contours of shoulder blades. The dimples at the small of a back.
And those feet, cool as a piece of jade when they rested on his legs.
He turned the water temperature down a little more.
After his shower, he changed into clean, dry clothes, sat by the window, and took out his script.
Today, he was supposed to read act four.
A long monologue, its emotions building layer by layer, with nearly two pages of dialogue. He turned to that page and started reading from the first line.
"I thought you wouldn't come."
He finished reading it. He stared at the line, but nothing stayed in his head. He read it again.
"I thought you wouldn't come."
Still, nothing stayed. The words circled through his mind, then drifted off somewhere.
In their place came another voice, low and languid, saying his name one syllable at a time.
Pei Yubai closed the script and set it on the table. He leaned back in his chair and looked at the bamboo outside the window.
The bamboo leaves swayed in the wind. Sunlight filtered through the gaps between them, casting a small patch of light on the ground.
He watched for a while, then picked up his phone.
There was nothing on the screen.
He stared at it for two seconds, then opened Weibo.
He rarely opened the app. Apart from reposting the production team's Weibo posts when promoting a new show, he hardly ever looked at it.
His name, Pei Yubai, spent far too many days on the trending list. He couldn't be bothered to look, and he didn't care.
But today, he opened the search page.
There was no need to search. A topic sat in second place on the trending list, marked "Hot."
#Beauty in Red on the Tree of Fate#
Pei Yubai's finger paused. Then he tapped it.
The first post was a recording of the livestream.
It showed the shot his cameraman had accidentally captured when they left Yue Lao Temple last night.
Qiguan Yuan sat on a branch of the Tree of Fate, dressed in dark red robes, his hair long and silver. Light from the sky lanterns shone up from below, making his outline both soft and distinct. He lifted his head and looked straight into the lens.
The shot had been made into a GIF, then edited repeatedly, its tones warmed until it resembled an ancient painting.
Pei Yubai watched the GIF for several seconds. When the person in it raised his head, his ears began to burn again.
He remembered what had happened just now, too: Qiguan Yuan walking up to him, standing so close he could see the droplets on his eyelashes. That image had been closer and clearer than this GIF.
He lowered his eyes and put his phone facedown on the table.
After a while, he turned it over again and scrolled down.
The comments section was clearly anything but quiet.
The Weibo post had been up for less than twelve hours, and its combined reposts, comments, and likes had already passed a million.
Pei Yubai didn't read them one by one, but as his gaze swept over them, the comments fell into a few broad categories.
Most, of course, praised his looks.
Even "A man like this belongs only in heaven" counted as restrained. Far more extravagant comments were everywhere.
Someone said: [I'd call this the most beautiful face of the year.]
[A face like this would've started wars in ancient times.]
[In all my twenty-eight years, this is the first time I've found words so inadequate.]
Others had simply set a still from the GIF as their profile pictures and were calling out in the comments: [Does anyone have the original? I'm begging you.]
Then there were the confused passersby.
They had clicked in thinking these were stills from a new drama, and were asking around in the comments: [What drama is this? Who's this newcomer? Nice styling.]
Someone earnestly answered: [It's not a drama. He's an ordinary person who was caught on camera in a variety show.]
Then people below began asking: [An ordinary person? What variety show?]
And then they were introduced to Travel to Those Little-Known Places.
People further down the comments even began recommending the show: [The production team's probably traveling on a shoestring, but the locations are amazing, and the guests are really funny. Also, Pei Yubai's a guest too.]
Once Pei Yubai came up, the discussion exploded again.
Another group was discussing Qiguan Yuan's attire.
Someone wondered: [If he's not filming a drama, why is he wearing historical clothes? Is it a local custom? He seems to wear them everywhere, all the time.]
Others speculated: [Judging by that house, he probably lives deep in the mountains. Wearing historical clothes wouldn't be strange.]
A passerby let their imagination run wild: [Could he be an NPC planted by the production team?]
Someone immediately countered: [With how broke that production team looks, could they afford an NPC that good-looking?]
Someone else said: [The dark red one he wore yesterday isn't the same as today's. Today's is a lighter shade.]
Pei Yubai paused when he read that.
He wanted to say that wasn't what Qiguan Yuan had worn today; that was yesterday's. This morning, he'd worn a different one. But he didn't comment.
He scrolled past it.
Finally, there were those who had become Qiguan Yuan's fans on the spot, falling straight into the fandom: [I've already unilaterally declared him my husband.]
[Husband, say something.]
Someone replied below: [He did. He said, "It seems rather rude to disturb someone's peace." His voice is insanely good.]
Then a whole row of replies appeared underneath: [Aaaaaah, I heard it too.]
[I recorded his voice and keep listening to it.]
[Please share the audio. I want to make it my ringtone and listen over and over!]
Pei Yubai's ears twitched when he read the words "his voice is insanely good."
He couldn't help remembering Qiguan Yuan's voice saying his name again. Every syllable lingered, its ending sinking low. It really was... enough to make his heart itch.
He left the Weibo post and typed Qiguan Yuan's name into the search bar.
There weren't many search results. After all, Qiguan Yuan wasn't a public figure. He had no verified account, no studio, nothing.
But there were already quite a few posts about him. The earliest had been posted two days ago.
It read: "I saw a silver-haired guy in red on Travel to Those Little-Known Places. Does anyone know who he is?"
The attached image was a screenshot of when Pei Yubai and the others had first met Qiguan Yuan in the wooden house.
That post already had tens of thousands of replies.
Then there was a post someone had made this morning: "An analysis of Qiguan Yuan's taste in clothes."
The post analyzed the colors, fabrics, and cuts of the red robes Qiguan Yuan had worn, concluding that "his clothes weren't made using modern manufacturing techniques. They're very likely custom-made by hand, with extremely fine fabric and stitching."
After reading it, Pei Yubai thought for a moment. He remembered helping Qiguan Yuan put on his shoes and socks that morning. The red robe had been neatly folded on the rock, subtle patterns embroidered along its collar. It really hadn't looked like something off an assembly line.
People were also digging into where Qiguan Yuan lived.
Based on the wooden house, bamboo grove, and stone-paved path shown in the livestream, someone had worked out the house's approximate location.
But someone soon reminded them: [Don't go looking for him. It's his private home. It's not right to disturb people.]
That reminder had been pushed to the top and had a high number of likes.
Pei Yubai scrolled a while longer.
He didn't follow anyone or like any posts.
Finally, he put his phone facedown on the table, leaned back in his chair, and stared at the ceiling.
About ten minutes later, he turned his phone over again. He opened the trending topic about the beauty in red on the Tree of Fate and watched the GIF once more.
He downloaded the GIF and saved it.
Then he closed Weibo, put his phone on the table, and picked up his script again.