Hold the Feeling in your Hand

Downtown Los Angeles - Essayist Agency - August 29, 2018, 1:27 PM

The script is heavy in his hands. Someone must have put effort into bringing it together because it’s not just a printout packet clipped together at one corner. The pages have been bound together like a proper book, and the cover is a sleek black. On the first page, credits have been printed out in gold lettering. Xie Lian keeps turning it over and over again, letting the pages slide past his fingers. He can’t quite bring himself to open it entirely, but neither can he close the cover and set it down on the desk in front of him. 

Across the desk from him, Ling Wen doesn’t comment on Xie Lian’s fidgeting. She just sits, waiting patiently, with her fingers laced together in front of her. It’s kind of her, really. He can see her open inbox, the other stacks of paper around her. She has plenty to do without his indecision taking up more of her time. He really is lucky to have her assistance as his agent; her talents are in high demand, so a personal meeting like this is absolutely a gift. He hates the feeling that he’s going to disappoint her.

“Did he really make the offer?” Xie Lian asks, rubbing his thumb over the edges of the book again. On the title page, the words God of Misfortune stare back at him. He’s not sure how to describe the feeling that name brings out in him. It’s pretty close to the one that walking into Ling Wen’s office in the first place gave him. It’s a tight, squirming feeling that sits uncomfortably in his gut. 

“He specifically requested you for the role,” Ling Wen says. She raises one eyebrow above her glasses in a perfect arch. “Are you thinking of declining?” 

She’s perfectly polite about it, but there’s an edge of incredulity to her voice that leaves Xie Lian with the impression that she thinks he would be a monumental idiot if he was. 

“Ah…” Xie Lian musters up a thin smile. “I’m just considering. It’s a bit sudden, is all. I know it’s an amazing opportunity if I want to restart my acting career. It’s a better offer than I could have dreamed of.” 

If he does want to restart it. Right now… he isn’t so sure. But it seems like a bad idea to tell his agent that, especially with a script from Jun Wu in his hands and an invitation to take the lead role. Xie Lian flips it open to the first page again, but it’s hard to concentrate on the words. He’s gotten out of practice in reading scripts, but it’s also difficult to focus on what the role is when he still hasn’t wrapped his mind around being given it. 

Ling Wen still seems satisfied with his vague answer, though, because she nods and shuffles the papers in front of her. “Would it help your decision to have some more information?” She asks. 

Xie Lian isn’t sure about that, but he nods because it seems like she’s ready to tell him anyway. 

“It’s an impressive cast,” Ling Wen says. “Your co-star would be Shi Qingxuan, and Mu Qing and Feng Xin are in supporting roles. You’ve worked with them before, I believe? It’s a fantastic cast to be a part of.” 

Xie Lian’s smile, already a weak thing, wilts like a flower caught in the first frost of the autumn. “They’ve all confirmed already?” he asks. 

She nods. “I believe the lead is the last role remaining to be cast, among the core. There are a few other actors involved, but you’ll be spending most of your time working with those three.” 

“Did they know I was going to be offered the role?” 

Ling Wen makes an uncertain gesture. “They might have been. The director and the casting crew didn’t communicate that to me one way or the other.” She must catch some of the hesitations in Xie Lian’s expression because she adds, “Director Jun’s contracts always involve clauses about maintaining professional relationships with fellow actors. I’m sure they know what they’re getting into.” 

Xie Lian flips through the pages of the script again, unsure how to respond to that. Ling Wen seems willing to take his silences, if not for full agreement, then for lack of disagreement. She turns to her computer and begins to type. 

“It’s a rather standard contract for this kind of film. If you accept, I’ll arrange for contract negotiations with the studio. I understand you have no other projects at the moment—” It is a polite way, Xie Lian thinks, for her to point out that he is unemployed as an actor— “So that will make schedule negotiations easier. And of course, we will meet beforehand to go over your preferences.” She turns back towards him. “So, when are you available?” 

Xie Lian blinks. 

“Ah, I was hoping… that I might have some time to go over the script before I sign,” he says. “Would that be all right?” 

This time, Ling Wen is the one who blinks. “I… believe that should be all right,” she says, adjusting her glasses. “They do want to hear back from us soon.” 

“I can finish it by the end of the day,” he says. “Is there somewhere I could sit and read?” 

Ling Wen purses her lips but nods. “There’s a cafe down the street,” she tells him. “Call me back before five with your confirmation.” 

Xie Lian closes the script again. The paper slices across the length of his thumb, leaving Xie Lian to wince and examine the papercut he’s left with. “Thank you,” he says to Ling Wen as he gets to his feet. “I’ll let you know.” 

Downtown Los Angeles - The Fox Cafe - 1:49 PM

Xie Lian stops outside of the agency and takes a deep breath. All around him is the chaos of downtown L.A. He smells gasoline and hot tar and feels the sun beating down on him, warming up his hair and his skin. After the intensive air-conditioning in Ling Wen’s office, it’s welcome. The script gets tucked under his arm. Xie Lian adjusts his grip on it and hopes he doesn’t get it too sweaty in the process of reading. It’s the kind of summer day that can melt you just by existing, and his palms are already feeling warm. 

“Well, I suppose this is it,” he murmurs. Xie Lian takes another breath and joins the throng. Ling Wen said the cafe was just down the street, and he vaguely remembers passing a place with outdoor seating on his way here. It looked crowded, but the lunch rush should be dying down by now, so maybe he can find a place to sit now without the staff asking him to make room for other customers. 

None of the other pedestrians give him a second glance. He isn’t even wearing sunglasses, just a worn snapback. He’s in a polo and slacks that don’t quite fit him, and it’s enough to make him anonymous, even here in L.A. 

What will it be like, if people start to recognize his face again? Will losing his anonymity be worth the paycheck? Will getting to act again be worth the notoriety that comes with the industry? 

Will any of it matter if Jun Wu’s gamble on him doesn’t pay off? 

The script feels heavier the longer he carries it, or maybe it’s just the heat that’s draining his energy and making his thoughts loop over and over. He’ll read the script, he tells himself. He’ll just read the script, and he’ll make his decision from there. 

The cafe is a little place on the corner, the kind that sells pastries and coffee and small lunches. Xie Lian mumbles his way through an order of an iced tea and a croissant before looking around the place. Sure enough, the tables inside are all full of people, but there seem to be a few spaces open on the patio under the umbrellas. He makes his way back to the door, fumbling the bag with his pastry as he struggles to open it without dropping anything. 

He nearly fails when an arm reaches past him to get the door. It startles him, and he jerks away on instinct, almost dropping both the script and his drink. 

“Sorry,” a smooth voice says. 

Xie Lian follows the hand up a defined forearm and finds himself looking at a very handsome man. 

“Uh,” Xie Lian says. 

“It looks like you need a hand,” The man says. His hair, loose and long, has fallen over one of his eyes, but the other lands on Xie Lian’s face for a long moment. His face is unreadable as he stares at Xie Lian with a raised eyebrow. 

Then he smiles. It’s the kind of smile that Xie Lian knows his face can’t quite pull off, a smile that promises delightful mischief in the way it shows off the man’s eyeteeth. 

Embarrassment temporarily steals Xie Lian’s tongue. He nods and mumbles a quick thank you.  He’s forced to move to the side as a few people step into the cafe from the outside. It’s an excellent excuse to look away from the man’s face so that he isn’t staring at him or at the eye patch Xie Lian notices partially hidden under his loose hair. 

When Xie Lian chances another glance, after the people have gone outside, the man is still smiling at him. “Do you need a seat?” he asks. “It’s on the patio, but I have a table over by the planters in the corner, if you don’t mind watching it for me.” 

Xie Lian turns to see the table the man points to. It’s in the corner under an umbrella, and there are an empty drink cup and a bag placed on one of the chairs. All of the tables filled up while Xie Lian was waiting for his drink, so he bites his cheek and nods. “That’s very kind of you.” 

The man smiles again and gestures Xie Lian out of the still-open door with his free hand. “I’ll be back soon,” he says. 

Xie Lian slips out the door as the man retreats toward the counters. It’s the height of summer outside, and condensation is already dripping down the sides of Xie Lian’s drink. He sets it down across from the man’s bag, then puts down the croissant. The script he sets facedown to the side. He could start reading it, but it doesn’t quite seem right to do that when a stranger could see. 

Instead, he turns his attention back towards the cafe. He can just barely see the handsome stranger at the counter, ordering his drink. Los Angeles is the city of actors, so it’s not unusual to meet good-looking people here, but this man is particularly striking. With his dark hair, longer than Xie Lian’s even is, and his pale skin that doesn’t seem flushed with the heat even if he’s been sitting outside in it, he looks more like a proper movie star than Xie Lian does. 

The man moves from the register to lean against the counter, talking to the baristas as they make his drink. A regular, maybe? Or he might just be a friendly kind of person. He seemed confident enough when he talked to Xie Lian. 

Xie Lian turns his attention back to the table and to his own food and drink. As he bites into the croissant, he considers the belongings the man has left out. There’s a notebook, but it’s closed, and the front of it doesn’t have any labels on it, as far as Xie Lian can tell. 

He’s halfway through his croissant when the man makes a reappearance with a fresh mug in his hand. Whatever his drink is, it’s still steaming. “Thank you for watching my things,” the man says as he sets the plastic cup aside and settles back into his seat. 

Xie Lian nods and prepares to settle into silence. His croissant is finished rather quickly, and he pulls the stript towards himself. He’s careful to cover the title page as he flips it open, and he does his best to keep his movements casual, not inviting interest or conversation. It seems his table-mate is of the same mind because he pulls out a set of colored pencils and bends his head over his own notebook. 

Xie Lian does try to follow the unspoken etiquette and turn his attention away from the man’s work, but he keeps catching glimpses of the brightly-colored pencils and the sure sweeps of the man’s hand. He doesn’t stare, but every few pages, he finds himself looking up through his fringe and has to remind himself to keep reading. He’s sure that the man is going to catch him looking, but his table partner seems entirely focused on his work. 

Eventually, Xie Lian shuffles the script to the side and clears his throat. The man glances up at Xie Lian, one eyebrow arched, and Xie Lian gestures towards the sketchbook. “I couldn’t help but notice your drawings. Are you an artist?”

“Nothing that fancy,” the man says. He sets aside his pencils and straightens. “I work in costume design. Sketching is a good way to take notes.” 

“You’re a designer?” Xie Lian leans forward, nearly knocking his face with the straw of his drink as he does so. “What sort of costumes do you design? Oh, unless it’s one of those projects where you’re not allowed to say?”

“I’m afraid this sketch is one of those,” the man says, “but if you’d like to see something else…” He flips through a few pages, then holds the notebook out in Xie Lian’s direction. 

The outfit is beautifully fancy, like something out of an illustrated fairy tale. A figure wears beautiful robes overlain with gold armor decorated with bursts of red. There’s a delicate cloak hanging off the figure’s shoulder that dances like flower petals in some invisible wind, and an elaborate gold mask covers the figure’s face. 

Xie Lian spends several seconds staring at it before he can find his voice. “Is this inspired by Split the Sun, by any chance?” he asks weakly. 

The man seems pleased. “So you recognize it? Not many people do. It’s a shame. The costumes in that movie are what inspired me to become a designer, especially the prince’s.” 

To buy himself some time, Xie Lian takes a sip from his drink (the ice has started to melt, leaving it a bit watery, but he’s not about to throw it away). How can he respond to that? “ It’s nice to meet a fan,” or “I’m glad our movie inspired you?” If this man hasn’t recognized him as the Xie Lian, the movie’s lead actor, maybe it’s best to play it down. He’s not exactly a celebrity anymore, and his reputation isn’t the best. He doesn’t want to risk it. 

“I recognize it,” he settles on saying, after swallowing. “Your design really is amazing. It fits the prince very well.” 

To his surprise, the man looks away with the faintest hint of red to his cheeks. Is he shy? It’s a bit surprising, considering how outgoing he’s been until now. Maybe it’s just about his art. 

“I like that you didn’t do the same thing the movie did,” he continues. He doesn’t dare reach out to touch the sketchbook, but he can’t stop looking at it. Everywhere he looks, he sees new details on the costume. The delicate embroidery of flowers on the sleeves of the robes, the scalloped hem on the cloak, the slight scratches that have been drawn on the armor…

The man clears his throat. “Well, since you remember the original, I can explain the differences if you like.” 

It’s a silly thing to do; Xie Lian knows it’s a silly thing to do. He still nods. 

The man turns the sketchbook so they can both see it. He obviously has no problem with touching his own drawings because he immediately begins to point out things on the page. “Ceremonial garments are always elaborate, especially for someone as important as a prince, and especially like a reoccurring ceremony like the one in the film. Many of the accessories will be heirlooms. So making all of them as elaborate as possible is key.” Here, he gestures to the armor with its elaborate markings and the golden mask. 

Xie Lian nods, but the man clearly isn’t done. “But, from the perspective of a martial artist and an actor, it’s far more important to have a costume that’s both light and easy to move in. All of the ornaments shouldn’t hinder movement, even the most elaborate decorations. Things like the rings and the armor can be made out of lighter materials for the actor. As a designer I should know how to make something that looks like metal without actually having to make it that heavy. And because the clothes are in a scene that’s essentially a martial arts exhibition, I took inspiration from those outfits when designing this one. The only thing that could really get in the way is the cloak, but you could get rid of that after a few dramatic introductory shots.” 

The man’s face is so animated as he starts to explain. Xie Lian can’t help but smile, watching him do this. He’s forgotten, a little, how much passion goes into every single part of a movie. Even from a simple sketch, this man can put in so much thought and add so many nuances. He must really be amazing at what he does. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed that part of filmmaking until now. 

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” he says, a little more wistfully than he meant to. 

The man glances up at him, then shrugs. “It’s the kind of planning that any costume needs,” he says. “I may never make this one, but that’s no reason not to put in the effort.” 

“So, even if nothing comes of it, it’s worth doing all the hard work, you think?” Xie Lian asks. 

This time, the man makes eye contact with him. His uncovered eye is a deep, rich brown, and his gaze feels unexpectedly piercing. Xie Lian fiddles with his drink, but he doesn’t think of looking away. “I got to show it to you,” he says. “That’s worth the work.” 

A sudden burst of sound makes them both jump. The man pulls out a phone, then glances down at it, his expression going blank. 

“I’m afraid I have to leave,” he says. He’s perfectly polite about it as he nods and begins to pack away his belongings. “Thank you again for watching my things.” 

“Thank you for humoring me,” Xie Lian says when the man hoists the bag over his shoulder. “I… do you come here very often? Maybe I’ll see you around.” 

For a moment, the man stays standing by the table. “Maybe you will,” he says. “It wasn’t humoring, though.” 

Then his phone buzzes again. With a tch of annoyance, he glances down at it, then strides off. 

Xie Lian watches him disappear through the crowds, but even as tall as the man is, he can’t keep track of him for very long. Finally, he turns his attention back to the script in front of him and his lukewarm drink. He flips it over again. God of Misfortune stares back at him. 

“Even if one stranger likes it, it’s worth the work, hm?” he murmurs to himself, tapping at the script. Then he digs around in his pocket for his phone. Hopefully, it’s not too late to catch Ling Wen. 

Xie Lian’s Phone - Email FROM: [email protected] - September 2nd, 2018, 9:35 AM

Xie Lian, 

    Please see the attached documents for the finalized contracts with the studio and Jun Wu. I have arranged for you to come to the office tomorrow at ten to make the final signatures. If you have any final corrections to make before then, contact me. Until then, congratulations. 

-Ling Wen

Celestial Array Website (Editorials) - Disgraced Actor Xie Lian to Make Third Debut in New Jun Wu Movie - September 7th, 2018, 10:40 AM.

Xie Lian: Third Time’s the Charm?

By Samantha Hua

Child stars have a complicated relationship with fame. 

Some fade into obscurity, in the way of Rupert Grint (Ron Weasley) or Yushi Huang (Rain Child). Others turn their attention to other industries and try to leave their mark there. Former Disney Channel actors Ariana Grande and Wei Wuxian have become arguably more famous in their chosen industries (pop music and producing horror movies, respectively) than they ever were in their youth. But most often, the fate of a former child star seems to be that they crash and burn—or at least create controversy on their way into adulthood. 

When thinking about child actors, many names probably spring to mind. Qi Rong is infamous for his transformation from childhood sweetheart of a generation into a convicted felon. But a recent announcement from XianXia Studios and famed director Jun Wu have brought another former child actor back into the spotlight; Qi Rong’s cousin Xie Lian. 

Qi Rong may be the more dramatic example, but you’d be hard-pressed to find an actor with a career more eventful or plagued with controversy than Xie Lian. This thirty-two-year-old former Hollywood darling has had more ups and downs in his short career than some actors have had in decades. 

With the announcement of his third return to the big screen in the upcoming drama God of Misfortune , I wanted to take a look over the highs and lows so far and ask—is Xie Lian finally back to stay or is this a fallen star’s last brilliant burnout? 

Xie Lian got his first role at just ten years old as a supporting actor in Split the Sun . Playing as the young prince, he captured minds and hearts with his performance, which has been universally acknowledged as one of the best performances from a child actor in Hollywood history. From that auspicious start, he only began to grow in popularity as he delivered fantastic performances in classic films like Five Thousand Li from Home and White . 

However, the good times were not to last. According to insider sources, Xie Lian began to struggle with fame, withdrawing from the public and his friends and classmates. A less-than-stellar reception of his performance in Xian Le: The Fall of a Kingdom is said to have driven him to a nervous breakdown at age eighteen. 

Following a three year leave of absence, Xie Lian was signed for the lead role in King of Heaven with acclaimed director Jun Wu and fellow former stars Mu Qing and Feng Xin. However, his time on set was plagued with difficulties, including reportedly explosive arguments with his costars and the director. While sources remain unclear on whether or not he was officially blacklisted, Xie Lian disappeared from the public eye shortly after, having not even made it to the premiere of the film. 

Despite his disappearance, Xie Lian has kept his record clean—while the former star has sold properties left to him by his parents’ deaths, he’s otherwise disappeared from the public eye in the years since King of Heaven’s release. 

Until Thursday, fan and industry consensus seemed to be that Xie Lian was done with the public sphere. The announcement of his casting, given by director Jun Wu, has sparked controversy and debate on all fronts. While Xie Lian’s acting has ever been stellar, questions remain about how ready he’ll be to handle life in the spotlight again. Can he take the attention, or will his career meet its third explosive end? Only time will tell. 

Twitter - #BoycottTrashMovie - September 7th, 2018, 11:45 AM

Hua Cheng☑ @tanhua ᐧ 35m

    Early designs for the protag’s costume in WWX’s 2017 Death Hill included:
        - booty shorts that say “thot”
        - literally nothing
        - a wardrobe picked at random from the early 2000’s Hot Topic collection.
    @Weiwuxian was perfectly willing to accept all of these options. smh.

Weiiiiii Wuxian ☑ @Weiwuxian ᐧ 20m
    Replying to @tanhua
        lolll don’t call me out like this!!! U would too if you had wangji as your lead 😏😏😏 too bad his people vetoed it 😢

Hua Cheng☑ @tanhua ᐧ 3h

    🕐🗑💰💉📿

        Celine @tenbook ᐧ 1h
        Replying to @tanhua
            I’ve been staring at this tweet for an hour and I don’t know what it means. 

Hua Cheng ☑ @tanhua ᐧ Sept 1

    Costume design practice. +15 years old and still the best film ever made. #TheyShouldHaveHiredMe

    Celine @tenbook ᐧ Sept 1
    Replying to @tanhua
        Is that Shi Wudu’s film? Nothing Gold? 

        Hua Cheng ☑ @tanhua ᐧ Sept 1
        Replying to @tenbook
            Offensively wrong.

    Matt Devon @Mattdevon2 ᐧ Sept 1
    Replying to @tanhua
        Split the Sun was mediocre at best. The lead actor was overrated. 

        Hua Cheng ☑ @tanhua ᐧ Sept 1
        Replying to @Mattdevon2
            You are wrong but do continue digging this hole. 

Hua Cheng☑ @tanhua ᐧ Aug 29

    1st person to guess the celebrity I just met in downtown LA gets originals to costume designs from my latest Marvel credit (you will not guess it). 

Search: Xie Lian 

Latest

Merta Wood @shiwudonot ᐧ 2m

I love everything Jun Wu does, but Xie Lian is kind of a joke… I want to like this movie but, signing him on is going to tank this thing. #GodofMisfortune #BoycottTrashMovie

I Will Live on Death Hill @deathhillbestmovie ᐧ 2m

Isn’t Xie Lian the guy who said on a live interview that he couldn’t get it up, there’s no way Jun Wu signed a guy like that on for a serious movie like god of misfortune is supposed to be, he’s a shitty actor #BoycottTrashMovie

Search: #BoycottTrashMovie

Top

Sun Dev @vikingggggs ᐧ 1h

Jun Wu’s security had better be on point, that mans a god and doesn’t need XieLian assaulting him again! #BoycottTrashMovie

Bai Wuxiang☑ @BaiWuXiang ᐧ 20h

    I will undoubtedly be joining #BoycottTrashMovie. Xie Lian and Jun Wu’s reputations speak for themselves. It’s time studios stopped giving them any attention. 

XianXia Studios - Costuming Departments - September 18th, 2018, 10:31 AM

There’s so much more work involved in pre-production than Xie Lian remembers. 

Maybe it’s the circumstances. As a child, he was rarely aware of the full scope of detail that went into crafting films. His parents were in charge of his schedules, and while there were many days before a film shoot began where he would have weekends or after-school hours filled with martial arts practice and meetings, those events don’t occupy his memories the way the days on set do. As for his time on the set of King of Heaven … his memories of that period are admittedly blurred.

God of Misfortune seems to take up his every waking moment, even when he’s working his terrible part-time job trying to survey the people of L.A. on street corners (the most flexible one he could find). His days before were relatively empty, though not without stress. Now, though, he has task after task to take care of, all things that he’s personally responsible for despite Ling Wen’s assistance. 

There are meetings with personal trainers to get him in shape for the specific demands of this movie. There are dialect coaches to visit—Xie Lian is long past the point where he has to consciously monitor his accent in everyday speech, but mastering a natural Los Angeles dialect for the screen is a different beast altogether. There are script readings; there are meetings with concerned producers and executives; there are fittings; all competing for his time. 

A fitting is what brings him here today, if he could just find the proper building. Studio complexes are always a maze, which is another detail Xie Lian thinks he never entirely caught onto when he was younger. It doesn’t help that he’s tired from biking the entire way here, through a hot California day. September, even late September, is still nightmarishly hot in Los Angeles. 

By the time he reaches the correct building, Xie Lian is sure that he looks like a mess. There isn’t any sort of bike stand outside the building, so Xie Lian props his bicycle up against the stair railing and goes inside, passing by the plaque by the door that says Costuming - Hua Cheng . 

Inside, the air conditioning is cold enough to send a shiver down Xie Lian’s spine. Someone is sitting at the front desk, a man in plain black clothes, and he gives Xie Lian a startled look as he approaches. 

“Sorry to bother you,” Xie Lian says, giving his friendliest smile. “I’m supposed to have a fitting with Hua Cheng? My name is Xie Lian.” 

The assistant opens his mouth, but a door opens behind him before he can say anything. “Yin Yu, is Xie Lian—ah. Hello there.” 

Xie Lian startles at the sound of a familiar voice and nearly finds himself tongue-tied. “Oh! Uh, hello,” he manages to stammer as he stares at the costume designer from the cafe. He looks almost the same—casual shirt, casual smile, the same eyepatch—except that his hair is pulled away from his face in a crooked ponytail. 

Xie Lian is very aware, all of a sudden, of just how disheveled his bike ride has left him. “It’s nice to meet you again,” he says, “though I didn’t expect it to be here.” 

The man recognizes him, too, from the smile that spreads across his face. He looks like a sly fox. “Well. We’re introduced at last.” 

Shame brings a guilty flush to Xie Lian’s face. He bows his head. “I’m terribly sorry about not saying anything! I just…” 

“Wanted to keep a low profile? It’s quite alright, I understand entirely. Much of my work nowadays is with actors who value their privacy,” Hua Cheng says. “Your face isn’t an easy one to forget, Xie Lian.” 

“At least allow me to make a proper introduction,” Xie Lian says and dips his head in a proper bow. “I’m Xie Lian. I look forward to working with you on this movie.” As he raises his head, he reaches out. 

Hua Cheng takes his extended hand and squeezes it gently. “Hua Cheng. It’s a pleasure to know that one of my favorite actors likes my work.” He releases Xie Lian and gestures to the door behind him before Xie Lian can turn any redder. “If you’re ready, we can start on the fitting.” 

Xie Lian follows him through the doorway. “Sit there,” Hua Cheng says as soon as they’re inside. Xie Lian sits on the stool he’s been pointed to, and takes the opportunity to look around the studio.

He’s undeniably in the costuming department. There are cloth swatches in books and stacks all across the tables and shelves. The walls are lined with cloth-draped mannequins, and the tables scattered throughout the room hold bolts of fabric, plaster molds, and foam boards, decorated occasionally by scissors and rulers and box-cutter knives. There must be some organization to it because the arrangement seems quite purposeful, but Xie Lian can’t make sense of it. He sees containers of spraypaint laid out next to lace, and spools of thread sharing bins with tape measures. All of the walls are lined with cork- and whiteboards, each one covered with images. One, in particular, seems to be full of nothing but butterflies. 

“Here we are,” Hua Cheng says, rejoining Xie Lian at the stool. He has a pile of clothing in his arms and a tape measure draped around his neck like a ribbon. 

Xie Lian turns hastily away from his perusal of the room, but Xie Lian only smiles and gestures for him to follow again, still holding the pile of clothing, which looks to be mostly jeans and sweaters. 

We’ll start with the measurements, “Hua Cheng says, “then move on to fitting the material we already have made. We’ll have another brief fitting session closer to filming to make sure the additional costumes are all sized properly. My assistant will be working with the assistant director to set that up.” 

Xie Lian nods along to that. “Is this all of the costumes for this film?” he asks, gesturing to the pile in Hua Cheng’s arms. 

“Just about.” Hua Cheng sets the pile down on one of the tables. “It’s much easier than working in a period piece, isn’t it?” 

“Or a fantasy movie,” Xie Lian agrees. “This looks like it will be over in no time.” 

“So it will.” 

Hua Cheng whips the measuring tape from around his neck. The bright red plastic makes a snapping sound as he draws it taut between his hands. “Feet shoulder length apart, please, arms loose by your sides.” 

Xie Lian adopts a loose pose and does his best not to tense as Hua Cheng starts taking measurements, holding the tape against his body with brushes of cold fingers. He’s brisk and professional as he works his way through taking measurements. Xie Lian does his best not to go tense whenever Hua Cheng touches him. 

“I’ve always been curious, by the way,” Hua Cheng says when he pulls away to write down the numbers with a spare pencil, “how they dealt with the sizing on your films like White . Those movies were in production for quite some time, weren’t they?” 

“They were,” Xie Lian says. He steals a look at Hua Cheng, but the costumer’s attention seems focused entirely down on his notations. “About a year. And I went through a growth spurt during that time.” 

Hua Cheng hums. “I’ve never been asked to work with children. I assume they had to remake some of those costumes during filming?” 

“It helped that they were filming chronologically,” Xie Lian says. “To account for the growth… I think they made multiple versions of the costumes, all of them too large, and then just altered them to fit whenever I outgrew the last one.” 

Hua Cheng nods. “Quite sensible. I presume they did the same for everyone on the cast?” 

Xie Lian bites the inside of his cheek. The ‘everyone’ in that movie included Mu Qing, Feng Xin, and his cousin, and the combination of the four of them had been… explosive. 

White is the first film Xie Lian remembers being aware that he was outpacing his cousin and friends. Looking back, he thinks that they all knew it before him, and he was simply the last one to realize. In White , he’d taken a more central role, and the others had been given very little to do. Qi Rong had taken it hardest and had started acting out on set. It was the point everyone pinpointed as the beginning of the fall of Qi Rong’s career. 

“Yes,” Xie Lian says finally, glancing at Hua Cheng. Now isn’t the time to think about his complicated relationship with his cousin. “I think that was standard for most of our costumes during that time. Make them a bit large, then alter the fit when needed.” 

He bites the inside of his lip as Hua Cheng comes back over and slides the tape measure around his waist. 

“Now breathe out,” Hua Cheng says and adds a quick note to his scrap of paper when Xie Lian complies. Xie Lian takes a moment to consciously relax his shoulders. He can’t keep tensing up every time Hua Cheng touches him, especially with all the fitting left to do.

“Just a few more,” Hua Cheng says as though reading his mind. He’s getting measurements of Xie Lian’s arms and shoulders now, and the process puts them nearly face to face. It’s impossible not to watch the way Hua Cheng’s hair slides around his face, the little furrow in between his eyebrows as he mouths the numbers to himself. Hua Cheng is so professional about this, and here Xie Lian is, uncomfortable and definitely flushed. He tries to look past Hua Cheng instead, and his attention is taken up by the corkboard covered with butterflies. 

“What are the butterflies for?” he asks, stifling a squeak as Hua Cheng measures his neck. 

“Hm?” Hua Cheng turns to look. “Ah. They aren’t for any project in particular. I simply find them a useful inspiration for certain projects.” 

“Like what?” 

“I’ll show you,” Hua Cheng says. He scribbles a few more numbers on a scrap of paper, then strides over to the wall, once more beckoning for Xie Lian to follow him. Xie Lian took the moment to will away the butterflies taking up occupation in his own stomach, to limited success. 

“Here.” Hua Cheng picks up a binder from the table under the picture and holds it out so Xie Lian can see as he flips through it. It’s full of page after page of dresses, all drawn in Hua Cheng’s distinct style. “For dresses. Movie dresses need to have a little more… flow to them. I think of them like butterfly wings.” 

“Like the robes from Split the Sun ,” Xie Lian says. Hua Cheng nods. 

“Right. Dresses and robes should both imitate two things, and that’s butterflies and flowers.”

“It’s so simple, but I don’t think I would have ever thought of it that way,” Xie Lian admits. “Even though I’ve been wearing those costumes for years.” 

“You hardly need to make them,” Hua Cheng says. “But, for example, I’m sure you’ve noticed that the edges of some of yours have been weighted. Or I’m sure you’ve noticed that some costumes are hotter than others.” 

Xie Lian nods emphatically. “Yes!” He could, in fact, probably list the costumes he’s had over the years in order from most to least comfortable. 

“A costume designer should take into account both how the costume looks and how it’s being worn,” Hua Cheng says. “Whether the set will be hot or cold, how it will have to be moved in, whether it allows proper padding for stunts. Matching the fabric to the purpose, and the fit, and the director’s vision. In other words, my job is to make sure that you’re ready to do your job as comfortably as possible. If I’m not doing that, I’ve failed. In fact, anyone who isn’t doing that is failing as a costume designer.” 

Xie Lian has never heard it said like that before, but watching Hua Cheng point to his designs, it seems so obvious. “I’m honored to have you looking after me, then,” Xie Lian says. To his surprise, Hua Cheng smiles. 

“And I’m honored to work with such a talented actor,” he says and snaps the binder closed again. “Now, let’s see about the costumes I have already prepared. I have a feeling they will fit well, based on these measurements, but I’d like to see them.” 

“Right.” Xie Lian glances at the pile of clothing, then around the room. “Where should I…” 

“No need to go all the way to the bathroom; we have a few sets to go through,” Hua Cheng says. “There’s a screen over there.” He points, then returns to the pile of clothing, and shoves the top set into Xie Lian’s arms. “These first.” 

It’s nice to have a costume he can put on by himself. Xie Lian changes quickly, setting his own clothes neatly folded on a chair and slipping into the costume. Within moments, he’s stepping back out from behind the screen, running his fingers through his disheveled hair. 

“Here,” Hua Cheng says, holding out a pair of shoes. “Tell me how these fit. And the rest of it.”

“It’s all a bit loose,” Xie Lian says, leaning down to slip on the shoes. He doesn’t bother with the laces on them, just lets his feet wiggle a little in the soles. “The shoes are fine.” 

“It’s all right if it’s loose,” Hua Cheng says. “Can you move in it?” 

Xie Lian swings his arms in a full circle, then begins to go through his usual pre-workout stretches, even dropping into a few butterfly squats. God of Misfortune isn’t an action movie, but Xie Lian knows there are going to be some small stunts, plenty of running, and a few fight scenes, definitely the kind of activity that he doesn’t want to rip his costume during. 

When he straightens up again, Hua Cheng is staring. 

“Oh, sorry,” Xie Lian says, glancing down at himself. “Should I not have done that?” 

Hua Cheng coughs lightly, as though clearing his throat. “It’s fine. I knew you did your own stunts, but it’s different to see the… results of that in person.” 

Xie Lian shrugs. “I’ve done martial arts since I was a child,” he says. “It’s a sort of comfortable routine, by now.” 

“Right,” Hua Cheng says. Then, with a toss of his hair, he steps closer to Xie Lian, straightening the sweater along his shoulders with a brisk touch. The gesture shows a flash of Hua Cheng’s prominent jawline and adam’s apple. 

“It doesn’t look too bad, but how does it feel to move in?” he asks. 

“Oh.” Xie Lian has to swallow before his voice works. “The hips are a bit loose but otherwise, it’s fine. The sleeves are a bit long, but I think that’s on purpose?” 

“It is,” Hua Cheng confirms. His eye narrows. Xie Lian had the distinct feeling that he’s about to be posed like a mannequin. 

Sure enough, Xie Lian is little more than a prop for the rest of the fitting. Hua Cheng has him try on each duplicate of his outfit for the movie, testing the fit on every one of them, then standing still as Hua Cheng pins the fabric and makes notes about adjustments. By the time Hua Cheng calls a finish, Xie Lian is feeling a little burnt out by all the attention and by Hua Cheng’s electrifying presence. It’s like staring at the sun a little too long. He’s going to be seeing afterimages of this meeting for days. 

If every part of getting back into acting is going to be like this… he isn’t sure he’s going to make it. But it will be worth it, he reminds himself. If even one person finds something to like in it, it will be worth it. 

In the end, Hua Cheng walks him to the doorway of the studio. “Thank you for coming by,” he says with a smile as he holds the door open for Xie Lian, apparently unconcerned about letting all the cold air out of the building. 

“No, thank you!” Xie Lian says quickly. “Your work is impressive. I hope we get to work together again sometime?” 

Hua Cheng’s eye glitters with his smile. “Oh, I believe you’ll see me sooner than you expect.” 

XianXia Studios - Blocking Practices - October 26th, 2018, 9:00 AM

Xie Lian stumbles his way through the first blocking rehearsal on the schedule. Jun Wu is patient with him, which Xie Lian is grateful for, but Xie Lian knows he’s messing up. He does his best to smile through it and work harder, knowing the filming crew and the other actors all have their eyes on him. He has a reputation. He can’t afford to earn the crew’s resentment. 

It’s easier in these early rehearsals. Mu Qing and Feng Xin aren’t here. Xie Lian can admit that he’s a little relieved to not have his two childhood friends here to witness his struggles. 

He would have expected blocking to be a bit like riding a bicycle: it seems like the basics should come back to him without much trouble, and yet his muscle memory seems to have been wiped clean along the way. He can remember the individual parts well enough when he tries them on their own. He has the script memorized—In the privacy of his dressing room, he can read them out with the proper emotion. Out on the blocking floor, he can move through the beats of the scene with ease, keeping track of his motions, the motions of the other actors in the scene, and the frame of the camera. It is only when he has to do all of them at once that his abilities somehow fall apart. 

He spends the first few weeks arriving early and leaving late, working and working on each scene until he can feel them being ground into his muscle memory. Slowly, the pieces are coming together again. It’s happening more slowly than he’d like, but it’s happening, and he can take solace in that. By the time shooting begins, he’ll be ready, though he might need to review the motions beforehand. He won’t disgrace himself in front of his fellow actors, and that’s all he can ask for. 

Still, it’s hard and lonely work. Xie Lian doesn’t know how he forgot that, or maybe he never knew it because he’s never had to do this alone before. He’s always had friends at his side to entertain him in the process, and while they were dedicated to their work, they were never so solemn about it that they couldn’t enjoy themselves. Xie Lian has been told before that magazines have published entire articles about the antics he, Mu Qing, and Feng Xin used to get up to on set. 

And he had his family with him the first time. Now that they’re gone...

Well. He lives alone. He’s been in such a precarious position for so many years that he isn’t really friendly with anyone, let alone his old actor friends and acquaintances. He hasn’t spoken to his cousin in years, and he’s frankly unsure that he wants to restart the relationship. He could talk to Ling Wen, but she’s all business and doesn’t have time to chat with him. 

He tries to spend some time at the cafe in hopes of catching Hua Cheng there, but with pre-production in full swing and the extra rehearsal he’s putting in, his opportunities are scarce. He’s sure Hua Cheng has his own work to take care of, but he can’t quite help going back.

His budget is still strained, but he nevertheless tries to make room in it for tea and a croissant whenever he has the opportunity. The hope makes the rest of the grueling process of twelve-hour days and the expectation of more coming in his future easier to bear, even though he doesn’t often catch Hua Cheng there. 

And it can’t always improve his days. As the rehearsals move forward, Jun Wu has started adding more complicated scenes, ones that take up a good deal of Xie Lian’s time and attention. He is managing to keep up, but it is still utterly exhausting. 

Halfway through the twenty-sixth (his third week of practice), he takes a break to hide in the bathroom and splash some water on his face. He looks a little frazzled when he wipes away the water and looks at himself in the mirror. He smooths down his hair, takes a deep breath, and imagines the butterflies in his hands, a whole swarm of them in silvery-white and orange and blue. He pictures them, in a dazzling flock, lifting up from his hands and flying away, until his nerves feel more settled.

Then he leaves the bathroom and nearly walks into someone. 

“Ah, sorry—” he says, sidestepping quickly. Then he lifts his head and finds a freezing glare pinned on him. “Mu Qing.” 

He hasn’t seen his former friend in years. Mu Qing looks good. Maybe a little tired, and certainly a lot scornful, but he’s grown into his long limbs and his high cheekbones. He doesn’t look at all like the gangly child that he was when they first met. 

He also turns away without a word and walks off. 

Xie Lian is left staring after him, caught between amusement and concern. He doesn’t follow. After all these years, if Mu Qing doesn’t want anything to do with him, he can only oblige. He doesn’t think he’s had a conversation with Mu Qing since the first time he quit acting. Honestly, he isn’t sure what they might have to say to each other anymore. Mu Qing has established himself as an A-List actor, as the lead to beat on plenty of films. He’s done better for himself than Xie Lian has, that’s for sure. 

Xie Lian can understand if Mu Qing resents owing Xie Lian for helping him get his breakout role. Mu Qing hates failure, more than anything, and Xie Lian has failed impressively.  

Slowly, he takes another breath, releases it again. 

There’s nothing for it. He’ll just have to keep going. 

Mu Qing is there on the practice floor when Xie Lian comes back. He does not look in Xie Lian’s direction but pays attention to Director Jun, who is walking him through some solo scene. 

Xie Lian takes the chance to settle against the wall and just breathe. He has time to get back in the habit, he reminds himself. It’s in his body; he’s just a bit older than before. Once he relearns it, things will be fine. He knew this meeting was coming. He just has to get comfortable with the discomfort. He won’t let this throw him off. 

He’s off to the side, watching Mu Qing and one of the actors he’s less familiar with work through one of their own sections when someone steps up behind him. 

“You have to think of it as a dance.” 

He knows this voice, too. 

When Xie Lian turns, he’s not surprised at all to see Feng Xin, determinedly not looking at him. He’s staring down Director Jun with an unexpected intensity. Following his lead, Xie Lian stops looking at him to turn back toward the rehearsal going on in front of them. 

“Don’t think of it as positioning yourself for the cameras, think of it as a dance. Or taolu . You’re doing a certain number of steps, and holding yourself a certain way. It’s like a meditation,” Feng Xin says. It sounds like the words are bursting out of him in a rush. “Someone told me that when I first started acting.” 

‘Someone’ did. Xie Lian bites his lip. 

When Xie Lian dares to steal a glance in Feng Xin’s direction, he sees that he looks furious. He’s also red from his neck all the way up to his hairline. 

“Fuck this,” he mutters, and turns hurriedly away. 

Xie Lian presses a hand to his mouth and stares resolutely at the rehearsal going on in front of him. 

Twice in one day. Really, it’s just his luck. 

Feng Xin… he’s grown, but he really hasn’t changed. There’s something comforting in that, even though it makes him a little melancholy. His two little disciples, grown up and… to be honest, much more successful than himself. It’s good to know that they weren’t tainted by his poor reputation, though it’s bittersweet that they’re no longer the inseparable trio they once were. 

He remembers when the two of them would trail behind him around set. It had started the moment they were in a movie together— Xie Lian’s third, Feng Xin’s second, and Mu Qing’s first. Sure, Mu Qing and Feng Xin often fought, but they’d always made up when Xie Lian talked to them. He wonders if they’ve managed to set aside their squabbles and work together or if the friendship between them has dissolved as well. He has to expect the latter, though it pains him to think that his mistakes destroyed any possibility of friendship when they lost their ties to him.

But they all have to work together. And so they will. 

The schedule calls for the four principal actors together the day after tomorrow, Xie Lian realizes as he looks at it where it’s posted on the wall of the studio. Feng Xin and Mu Qing are both looking over it with him, but they each turn away before Xie Lian can catch any hint of their reactions. 

He turns away himself. When he leaves the set that day, it's to stop by the cafe. He stays as long as he dares, but he never sees any sign of a red shirt or long, dark hair.

XianXia Studios - Blocking Practices - October 28th, 2018, 9:00 AM

There’s a person standing in the doorway to the practice floor, beaming at Xie Lian and eyeing him with apparent. They let go of the doorframe to give him a cheery sort of wave. “Hello there!” 

Xie Lian returns the glance with a curious look of his own. They’re wearing loose white clothing, and they have impeccable hair and makeup in the kind of breezy, effortless style that Xie Lian knows takes a certain amount of poise, personality, and preparation to pull off. Xie Lian can’t help but feel shabby in comparison, but he bows his head and smiles. 

“Hello.”

“We haven’t been properly introduced,” they say, bowing in return. It’s true. Xie Lian has seen them around during practices and during Jun Wu’s meetings, but he can’t put a name to the face. He thinks, anyway. He’s seen them in everything from dresses to suits to outfits that he can’t even name, but that all look very trendy and very confusing. “My name is Shi Qingxuan. I look forward to working with you!” 

“Likewise,” Xie Lian says, bowing in return. “My name is Xie Lian.” 

“Oh, I know,” Shi Qingxuan says with a glimmer in their eye. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“Ah,” Xie Lian says. He’s very glad he’s got a thick face. “I’m sure.” 

They laugh. “Ahaha, don’t worry! I know better than to believe in rumors. My brother gets a lot of bad press too. That’s why I’m glad to be working with you! What better to learn the truth than to see for yourself, right?” 

“That’s a good way to think of it,” Xie Lian says, smile growing. “But, forgive me, I’ve been out of touch with the news here recently. Your brother…?” 

“Shi Wudu,” Shi Qingxuan says. 

Xie Lian waits patiently for them to elaborate, but they stare at him as though that’s explanation enough. 

“And?” he prompts finally. 

“You don’t know?” they ask incredulously. “Ahahaha! Really!”

“Like I said, I really haven’t followed the news,” Xie Lian admits sheepishly. “Or movies.” 

“Ahaha! Fine then, I’ll tell you. You’ll probably hear about it anyway when we do interviews. I don’t want you to be caught off-guard.” 

They say it with a light-hearted smile, but Xie Lian is practiced at seeing tension and discomfort in people, and he can see the signs of it around their eyes. This topic pains them in a way that Xie Lian can certainly sympathize with. 

“So if you don’t know movies, I assume you’ve never heard of Empty Words ?” they ask. Obligingly, Xie Lian nods, and Shi Qingxuan chuckles again. “Really, you must live under a rock, it was so big last year!” 

“I don’t watch the news much,” Xie Lian says, which is true enough. He was never up to date on celebrity gossip even when he was in the midst of it himself, and by the time he found himself left to… fend for himself, keeping up to date with that old world seemed pointless and painful. He focused instead on the bare essentials of living. 

Shi Qingxuan seems to accept that. Maybe they appreciate someone who doesn’t know all the gossip, or they’re happy to have a chance to report it themself. “My brother was a producer on it, in the studio. He runs his company with a very tight fist! So when there was someone who claimed he was discriminatory in his hiring practices, he got accused of hiring me out of favoritism. It was a huge thing in the news. It hurt the reviews of the movie a lot.” 

“I’m sure,” Xie Lian says. He’s intimately familiar with the ways discord on set and around production can ruin a movie’s chances. “This is Jun Wu’s work, though. And a different genre. I’m sure we’ll work well together.” 

Shi Qingxuan beams and pats him on the shoulder. “I knew I’d like you,” they say. “Though I have to admit, you’re not much like I expected.” 

Xie Lian can only shrug at that. “I’ve changed a lot since the last time I was an actor,” he says. “But we’re about to start—shall we go?” 

“Oh, right!” 

Shi Qingxuan leads the way over to the director’s chair, where Mu Qing and Feng Xin are already waiting. Xie Lian chances a glance between them, but the two of them are standing stiffly, facing opposite directions and ignoring each other. They hardly spare a glance for Shi Qingxuan and Xie Lian, though Shi Qingxuan calls out a greeting, and Xie Lian waves to them both. 

“Do you think they were fighting?” Shi Qingxuan asks Xie Lian quietly. Xie Lian can only shrug.

“They might have been,” he says. “They argued a lot even when I knew them. I guess it hasn’t improved since then.” 

“Not from what I’ve heard,” Shi Qingxuan confirms. “I wonder why Jun Wu wanted them both on this project?” 

“Maybe he thinks they can put that aside and work together, if they have to,” Xie Lian suggests, watching as Feng Xin stalks away to go through some sort of stretches. His back is to Mu Qing, who himself is staring at the wall and apparently muttering something, maybe practicing his lines. It looks to Xie Lian like they plan to get through this by ignoring each other as much as possible. 

Then Jun Wu enters the room, looking as immaculate as always. The rest of them are in loose, casual clothing, but Xie Lian has never known the director to come to set, even pre-production, in anything less formal than a button-down shirt and slacks. That he still does that is just as comforting as it is intimidating. 

“If I may have your attention, please,” he says, looking around the room, and of course he has it. They all cluster together, actors and camera crew and all, and listen as Jun Wu begins his outline for the day. 

Xie Lian listens with admittedly divided attention. He can guess the broad strokes of what they’re doing, just from the list of scenes they have on the agenda for the day, but that doesn’t necessarily make it any easier to face. To keep from questioning… well, everything, he focuses his attention on a spot just beyond Jun Wu’s shoulder and breathes slowly. He’d done a more intensive version of this routine before coming in this morning, but now he just takes deep, even breaths and curls and uncurls his fingers slowly against his palms. He thinks of an entire garden of butterflies being released out into the wild, and leaving him calmed. The familiar metaphor reminds him of the image in Hua Cheng’s studio, and it brings a smile to his face. He’s not quite ready to tell anyone about this particular technique, but he imagines that even the busy, dry-witted Hua Cheng would find some value in it. 

The thought helps, and so too does the breathing. By the time Jun Wu nods to dismiss them to their starting positions, Xie Lian finds himself calmed, and he can even manage to face Mu Qing and Feng Xin face to face with nothing more than an awkward bob of his head. 

Jun Wu starts this particular session close to them, flanked by his assistant director and the script supervisor, as well as the camera teams. 

“We’re starting with the scenes in the shelter’s common room today,” Jun Wu reiterates. “I know you’ve all read over your scripts, but for today you can mark. The goal for today is, as before, to acclimate the four of you to working together while we find the rhythm of the scene.” 

Xie Lian nods. He gets the sense that Mu Qing and Feng Xin are both purposefully not glancing around, the same as he is. He almost wishes there was a scene to hide behind, that he could fall back into the preoccupation of playing a role, knowing that they were doing the same. But even that would be different, he thinks. They made such a game out of it when they were younger— or at least, he did. In retrospect, he thinks he was so wrapped up in his own role that he didn’t spend as much time as he ought, to understand their own processes. 

It’s predictably stilted at first. They’re all reluctant to step too close to one another, and lines of dialogue trail off awkwardly or cut off in nervous laughter, or even worse, fall into silence as they cannot meet one another’s eyes. Xie Lian can sense Jun Wu building up into a comment, even a reprimand, and he does his best to loosen up. The script calls for him to bump shoulders with Feng Xin, but Feng Xin startles when he does so, drawing back so sharply that Xie Lian nearly stumbles in surprise. 

“I’m sorry,” they both say at once. Feng Xin turns away, the tips of his ears turning bright red. To the side, Mu Qing scoffs in a way that makes Feng Xin’s shoulders climb towards his ears. He’s sure to snap and start an argument, maybe even a fight, but Shi Qingxuan laughs. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make fun!” they say, struggling to cover their giggles with a hand. “It’s just that you two made it seem so very serious! It’s like you were at a high school prom and you’d just stepped on each other’s feet!” 

Xie Lian smiles. As silly as the visual is, they’re not wrong. This is like the most awkward date ever, even from Xie Lian’s admittedly negligible experience. 

“Director,” Shi Qingxuan says, turning toward him. “If I could make a suggestion?” 

Jun Wu gestures for them to go on, with one raised eyebrow. 

“Maybe we could read the lines the opposite way we’re supposed to do them. This scene is a very serious one, but if we read them in silly voices, or something of that sort, it might be easier. I used to do something like this as a child, when I had to memorize my lines.” 

Xie Lian wonders if they did it with their brother. It reminds him of the sort of thing he used to do with his parents, where they would read the other parts for him like they were a Xiqu production, or a radio announcer, or any number of things. There was a point when he decided he was too old for that and started memorizing his lines alone, but now he regrets it, just a little. 

Feng Xin and Mu Qing are looking skeptical, but Xie Lian raises his hand. “I like that idea. At least, we should try something new to see if a reset helps.” 

“Then we shall,” Jun Wu says, nodding to them. “On my mark. And… begin.” 

Shi Qingxuan has the first cue, and they start it by spiking their current prop, a plastic cup, against the ground. It rattles around with a hollow sound, entirely at odds with the furious drama of their movement. 

“Ow! Shit!” They cry out in a very squeaky voice. 

It startles a chuckle out of Xie Lian, but he’s up next, so he steps forward and reaches out to rest a hand on their shoulder. “What did you do?” he asks, adopting as creaky and wavery a voice as he can.  

Shi Qingxuan hides muffles a snort with their hand as they drop to their knees, purposefully fumbling their plastic cup even more. “I dropped the fucking—No, watch out, there’s glass—” 

Xie Lian obligingly mimes a far-too dramatic leap back from the radius of their prop. He can feel Mu Qing and Feng Xin staring, either in horror or embarrassment, but it does make it easier. He’s moving easier as he shares smiles with Shi Qingxuan, and it becomes much easier to loosen up when following their effortless antics. 

There’s a pause, as the two of them hold still, and then; 

“Gentlemen, I believe that is your cue?” Jun Wu says gently. Mu Qing rolls his eyes. Feng Xin huffs, his face reddening. But they both step forward. 

It still isn’t perfect. There are awkward moments between the three of them, especially whenever they have to look directly into one another’s faces. But the ice is broken. They can work with this, as long as they keep working, and they do. The morning, despite all its tension, is one of the most productive days Xie Lian has had yet. He finds himself falling into a rhythm, keeping track of the cameras out of the corner of his eye and trusting his memory for the dialogue. A bit more, and this all will feel natural as breathing, he’s sure. 

It doesn’t change the fact that this is hard work, and by the time they break for lunch, Xie Lian can feel the beginnings of a headache. He finds a quiet corner to tuck himself away in and sip at a water bottle. He’s lost himself in something of a trance when his vacant staring is interrupted by the appearance of a red shirt right in his field of vision. 

“Hello again,” a smooth tenor voice says. 

Xie Lian looks up. “Oh! Hua Cheng.” 

Hua Cheng smiles. He’s wearing his hair up in a high ponytail, though his fringe falls messily around his face, mostly obscuring his eye patch. He’s wearing a tight short-sleeved button-down today, but that seems to be the only concession he’s made to L.A.’s heat, as the rest of his clothing is black. 

“You do remember me,” he says, sounding pleased. “I’m glad to have made such an impression.” 

“Of course you did,” Xie Lian says quickly. Then his brain catches up with his mouth. “Um. What are you doing here today?” 

“A few final fittings,” Hua Cheng says, hoisting a garment bag he’s carrying draped over one shoulder. “Not yours, I’m afraid. That will have to wait a few days longer, and my assistant will be taking care of that. But before I hunt down my living mannequin for the day, I thought I’d say hello.” 

“It’s nice to see you,” Xie Lian says. “I’m sure you must be busy. I don’t think I’ve seen you at that cafe at all.” 

Hua Cheng blinks. “No, I only stop by occasionally. You must be busy yourself. Filming starts soon?” 

“In a few weeks,” Xie Lian confirms. 

“I can’t imagine you’ll have much time for cafes at that point.” 

“No,” Xie Lian says. He swallows a sigh. “But it’s a nice place. Maybe I’ll see you around after filming, though?” 

The corner of Hua Cheng’s mouth quirks. “That’s certainly possible,” he says. Then a call from somewhere down the hallway makes him turn. “Ah, it looks like the victim has been found. I’ll see you around, Xie Lian.” 

“See you,” Xie Lian echoes, raising his hand to wave, but Hua Cheng is already gone.

XianXia Studios - Parking Lots - November 3rd, 2018, 8:37 AM

“Xie Lian.” 

The sudden voice behind him startles Xie Lian so severely that he nearly stabs himself with the key to his bike lock. Fumbling it, he turns to see Jun Wu standing behind him. 

“Director,” he says shakily, lowering his hands. “Sorry, you startled me.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jun Wu says, inclining his head. “Would you walk with me, once you’re finished here? I’d like to talk with you before we get started for the day.” 

“Out here?” Xie Lian blurts out. The weather has been taking a turn for California chilly these past few days. Xie Lian has taken to wearing a knit long sleeve shirt on his morning bicycle rides to the studio, though he usually abandons it at some point during the day. Director Jun is wearing a suit jacket, but it doesn’t look too warm. 

Xie Lian bites his tongue but nods. What else is there to be done? Jun Wu is his boss. If he wants to be alone with Xie Lian after everything, then Xie Lian just has to trust him. He picks up his key and finishes locking the bike, then nods for Jun Wu to lead the way. 

Jun Wu’s plan is apparently to lead them at a slow pace around the sidewalk at the edge of the studio parking lot. They spend a few minutes in silence and Xie Lian steals a few glances at Jun Wu out of the corner of his eye. He’s seen him before, of course, he’s had to in order to get this job, and Jun Wu has been directing their blocking rehearsals. But it’s the first time they’ve been alone together in years. 

It’s impressive how unchanged Jun Wu looks. There might be some new lines at the corners of his mouth, but aside from that, he could be the same man that Xie Lian knew growing up. He has the same regal expression, the same slow, steady gait. The same hair. Even the suit seems unchanged, though Xie Lian is sure it’s been upgraded over the years to fit current fashion trends. Jun Wu has always had a sense for these things where Xie Lian doesn’t. 

“Xie Lian,” Jun Wu says. He’s smiling gently. “How have you been?” 

Xie Lian remains stiff and maintains a healthy distance between the two of them. “I’ve been managing,” he says. He’s rather sure that Jun Wu knows what his life has really been like since he last “quit” acting, but it seems better not to mention it himself, lest he remind Jun Wu of the past. 

“Good,” says Jun Wu with a nod. “I’m glad to hear it. And you’ve already gone through the script for this movie?” 

“I have,” Xie Lian confirms. “Ling Wen passed it on.” 

“Good, good,” Jun Wu repeats. “And how do you feel about it?”

Xie Lian smiles, though it admittedly remains tremulous. “I’m glad for the chance to get back into acting with a piece as special as this,” he says. “Thank you for the opportunity, Director. I wasn’t expecting it at all, when you reached out.”

“I know,” Jun Wu says. “But I think you will be perfect for the role.” 

It takes biting his lip for Xie Lian not to blurt out something unfortunate in response to that. They walk a few steps more in silence before Xie Lian musters himself to instead say, “Thank you. I hope to do a better job this time. And speaking of, I think it’s about time to start…” 

“Of course,” Jun Wu says, leading them on. The time seems to pass agonizingly slowly before they’re finally entering the proper building. 

“Director!” someone calls out as they enter, and Xie Lian takes the opportunity. 

“I’ll see you for rehearsal, Director,” he says quickly and disappears down the hallway, hoping to find somewhere he can change out of his sweaty biking clothes and at least calm down a little before the day’s work begins. It’s a good thing he’s not doing anything in front of a proper camera today—he’s sure that he’ll ruin any takes asked of him, in this state. 

Twitter - Xie Lian Looks Rough - November 10th, 2018, 7:00 PM

Search: Xie Lian

Latest

Mari Don’t Care @shuangdaozhang ᐧ 23m

Yo that interview tho. Where tf has Xie Lian been the past few years, that man looks rough 

    Penny @snowfall ᐧ 5m
    Replying to @shuangdaozhang
        He’s still handsome!!!!! You take that back

            Mari Don’t Care @shuangdaozhang ᐧ 4m
            Replying to @snowfall
                He’s an actor of course he does. Just saying he looks tired AF

    Jemma Jemma @silverlake ᐧ 10m
    Replying to @shuangdaozhang
        i see what u mean…. He’s hardly smiling!

    Ouyang @zizheng ᐧ 18m
    Replying to @shuangdaozhang
        he used to have such a cute smile and now he just looks so sad….. : (((

    SanLang @3rdlang ᐧ 21m
    Replying to @shuangdaozhang
        What interview?

        Mari Don’t Care @shuangdaozhang
        Replying to @3rdlang
            He was on Celestial Array!! Here’s the link: 

Celestial Array Website (Videos) - NEW Exclusive Interview with Actor Xie Lian! - November 10th, 2018, 3:00 PM.

Last week, our very own Yanli sat down with actor Xie Lian to talk about his career in acting, his life in the years since King of Heaven , and his role in the upcoming film God of Misfortune . Watch the video, or read the transcript below to get a peek at this actor’s first interview since he was confirmed as the lead in Jun Wu’s latest film! 

TRANSCRIPT: Interview with The Celestial Array

[The interview opens on the usual Celestial Array set. Xie Lian is sitting on a couch across from the host, Yanli. Yanli looks at him with an eager expression. Xie Lian is smiling and even pauses to give a wave to the quiet crowd. He’s wearing a faded sweater and some slightly worn jeans.]

YL: This is quite the honor! Xie Lian—should I call you Mr. Xie?

XL: Xie Lian is fine. The honor is mine. Thank you for having me. 

YL: So! Let’s start off with this. This is your third time getting into acting. 

XL: That’s right. 

YL: Just couldn’t keep away, huh? 

XL: [shrugs.]

YL: What keeps bringing you back? 

XL: This is a very complicated industry. There’s nothing quite like it, I think. But I think if I can keep telling stories that mean something to the audience, I’ll always want to keep acting. 

YL: Complicated is definitely a way to put it; what do you mean by that? 

XL: Well, it happens in any industry, I think. There are a lot of people involved, and there’s a lot of money. Everything happens for different reasons, and everyone comes into making a film with different motivations. 

YL: And for you, that’s telling stories? 

XL: I’ve come to realize that, yes. 

YL: It seems as though you don’t think much of the other motivations people might have. 

XL: [shrugs again]. I can only speak for myself. I know that Hollywood is a multi-billion dollar industry, so money is always going to be a part of it. But for myself, I can only hope to tell stories that will affect people.

YL: Speaking of stories...the rumor for years has been that you’d permanently retired! What changed? 

XL: Ah, well. [He folds his hands in his lap.] I started acting as the lead in [major] films at ten, which is—

YL: That’s so young!

XL: —it’s very young. And I was acting until I was eighteen. At the time, my family was going through some hardships, so I wanted to focus on them instead. 

H: And so you took a break for three years. And then you briefly returned to acting with the movie King of Heaven.

XL: Yes. [His smile falters for a moment.] 

YL: There’s a lot of reports that your return to the screen with King of Heaven was… a bit fraught. 

XL: [laughing a little] You say it so politely. 

YL: How would you describe it, then?

XL: I think everyone would describe it as a disaster. It was, really. 

YL: What happened?

XL: I think I started to grow up. Ah… or maybe I was coming back into filming with new eyes. I wanted to say something but didn’t know how to say it. I wanted to change things but didn’t go to the right places to start changing them. And so I took those feelings out in the only way I could think to. Looking back on it, I probably wasn’t ready to come back at that time. 

YL: So your rebellious teen phase kicked in?

XL: If you want to call it that, I think it happened a bit late. 

YL: Would you say you’re wiser for the time away? 

XL: I’d like to think so. I have some perspective now. I used to think as a child that I could change the world just by stepping forward and saying a few words. I did a lot of publicity tours—visiting hospitals, homeless shelters— and it was a bit arrogant, I think, I’d show up for a few hours and feel like I’d fixed some fundamental problem with the world just by being there. I thought if I shook hands with the President, I would somehow fix world hunger. Now, I think, if I can bring people a few hours of feeling, whether that’s joy or catharsis, or draw them into the world of a film… then I’ve done more than I could have hoped for. 

YL: It sounds like you’re coming back with a new perspective. 

XL: Yes. I’ve had a lot of time to learn. 

YL: Is there anything in particular you’ve done since leaving acting that you’d say contributed to that: 

XL: [Shrugs] This and that. I think it will help a lot with this new project. 

YL: [Laughs] What a transition that was! I didn’t even have to do anything!

XL: [Just smiles]

YL: Okay, then. Since you brought it up, let’s talk about God of Misfortune ! You’re working with Jun Wu again for this film. 

XL: That’s right. I’m grateful that he came to me for the part. 

YL: Mind telling us a little about the film and your role in it? 

XL: It’s a fantastic script, and I’m sure Jun Wu will go above and beyond on it as always. He’s a very talented director, I’m looking forward to working with him on it. It’s a bit less grand than many of the movies I’ve been on before, but I think that’s a good thing. 

YL: Well, that’s all the time we have today! Thank you for coming on, Xie Lian. 

XL: Thank you for having me. [He and Yanli shake hands]. 

Greater Los Angeles Area - Xie Lian’s Apartment - January 7th, 2019, 5:00 AM. 

His alarm hasn’t even gone off when Xie Lian opens his eyes at 5 AM.

For a moment, he just stays where he lays, curled up on the thin pad that serves as his mattress in his tiny apartment. Today is the first day of shooting. He holds that thought in his mind, as though cupped between his fingers like a delicate butterfly. 

Meditation , he reminds himself, breathing gently through his nose and out his mouth. I am frightened. I am nervous. I am excited. 

He envisions each emotion as another little butterfly in his cupped hands. He imagines their wings fluttering with brilliant blue and vibrant orange and deep sable blacks. Hold them in my hands, and then let them go.  

With a little smile, he opens his eyes again and makes a tiny tossing motion with his cupped hands. He can still feel the flutters in his nerves, but it’s easier to breathe past them now if he pictures them as wings fluttering out the windows into the slowly brightening sky. 

Routine carries Xie Lian through the morning. He cleans up, pulls on the first clean things he can find (it doesn’t really matter what he wears, he’ll have to change once he gets to set, anyway), digs out breakfast from the leftovers sitting in his fridge. By the time it hits five forty-five, he has to catch himself from nervously twisting his hair up into a braid. Instead, he bundles it up under his hat and steps out from his apartment.

The air is brisk, and even a hint chilly, enough that Xie Lian bundles up with a hat and scarf around his face and pulls his unraveling mittens over his fingers. He hasn’t gotten a winter coat, not with his limited budget, but he’s layered on a sweater over his shirt, which should keep him from freezing on his way over to the studio. His bicycle is waiting for him, still locked to the fence that surrounds his apartment complex and with both tires on it. Sometimes that’s not a guarantee, in this neighborhood. 

Xie Lian unlocks it with a smile and sets out, weaving his way through the narrow streets of the neighborhood where sunlight hasn’t yet slipped down between the tall buildings. It feels like another meditation, his feet on the pedals and his hands on the handlebars. The streets slowly begin to fill with people as the morning progresses, and Xie Lian spares smiles for those who meet his eye. 

There are some days where they’ll have to film on-site at locations around Los Angeles or in a few offsite locations that the studio’s scouts have picked out. It’s something to do with the way permitting works, something that Xie Lian still doesn’t quite understand even after all of his years in Hollywood. He’s pretty sure that Jun Wu has tried to keep the locations local wherever possible, for authenticity. Still, sometimes it’s easier to have the studio build a set, which is why his destination this morning is XianXia Studios. 

The film studios are buried at the back of the complex, deep within a winding maze of buildings. Thankfully, it doesn’t take Xie Lian long to find the place, but it does take him a while to figure out which door to enter through, and once inside, he finds himself wandering around in confusion. Occasionally, someone will rush by him, and although they sometimes shoot him a confused look, they rarely stop long enough for him to ask for directions. 

He makes it all the way to one of the sets before someone recognizes him and flags him down. “Oh, Mr. Xie! I’m sorry, no one realized you’d arrived. Would you like me to get your room ready?” 

“It’s fine,” Xie Lian says, waving them away gently. “I only just biked in; I don’t need anything just yet. Can you point me towards it? ”

The helper clutches at his clipboard. “It’s just down this hallway,” he says, pointing. “I’ll just… let Director Jun know you’re here.” 

Xie Lian gives a smile and a wave that the assistant just barely returns. “Thank you,” he says and turns off down the hallway. 

XianXia Studios - Indoor Set 3 for God of Misfortune - January 7th, 2019, 7:42 AM

Filming is a lot of “hurry up and wait,” Xie Lian does at least remember that. 

His holding room is actually a room he shares with Shi Qingxuan, which might irritate a lot of actors but that Xie Lian actually finds himself grateful for. It will be nice to hang out here with them, though their energy can be a lot, sometimes. It will be nice to have someone to talk to instead of sitting here alone and getting stuck in his head. 

They haven’t arrived yet, though, and it leaves Xie Lian time to practice his lines, review the blocking today, and run through his meditations three separate times in the hour it takes for someone to finally come and fetch him for costuming and makeup. He leaves gratefully, though he’s sure that getting dressed will be his least favorite part. He’s always hated people fussing over him, and getting into costume and makeup is nothing but that. 

Sure enough, from the moment he walks into the costuming department, he’s surrounded on all sides. At least there’s one familiar face, Hua Cheng’s assistant Yin Yu, who shoves a set of tagged clothing into Xie Lian’s arms and tells him in a stiff voice to go get changed. 

Xie Lian resists the urge to glance around the gathered crew for a particular tall costuming director and focuses on finding a place to change out of his clothing and into the costume. He’s really glad this isn’t a fantasy movie. It only takes him about three minutes to change. 

Yin Yu gives him a critical look over and starts adjusting his sleeves, but he doesn’t do much before he steps away. 

“Here,” he says to Xie Lian, pointing him towards another of the hovering assistants. “Go with her to hair and makeup.” Then, as Xie Lian is leaving, he catches Yin Yu saying to another of the assistants, “he’ll make adjustments if he thinks they’re necessary.” 

Xie Lian is sure that the ‘he’ in question is Hua Cheng, but he can’t catch sight of him before he’s led out of the room. 

Getting his hair and makeup done is even worse than the costuming. Xie Lian closes his eyes and does his best to bear it. Once it’s done, he should be left alone until shooting begins. He can deal with a half-hour of this. 

While his hair is being… messed with (it’s going to be in such a state for the rest of this shoot—though maybe that will work out in his favor. The media wouldn’t expect a celebrity to walk around with knots in their hair, right?) he has nothing much to do except twiddle his fingers. 

Ah. That reminds him. 

“Excuse me,” he asks the nearest person. “Do you have a pair of nail clippers?” 

That earns him a baffled look, but after a moment of hunting, he’s handed a pair. He proceeds to trim away the elegant half-centimeter of growth he’s managed on his fingernails. 

“What’s that about?” a voice asks, and he looks up to see Hua Cheng standing there, clipboard in hand. 

Xie Lian reddens involuntarily. He busies himself with trimming away a hangnail on his thumb. “Ah, all of our shoots today are the abandoned house scenes, right? Elegant nails don’t last out there. You’d get dirt under them or catch them on things. And making them ragged would be too much work to keep consistent over weeks of shooting, so trimming them down is the most sensible.” He considers his cuticles as well, but decides against doing anything there. Makeup is going to be covering his hands in “dirt” and wounds anyway. 

When he looks up again, Hua Cheng is staring at him. “Sensible,” he observes, and makes a note on his ever-present clipboard. “You have an eye for detail.”

He knows he’s coloring even more. It’s impossible to say the truth, which is that he knows because his fingernails were always in a terrible state while he was out on the streets. So he just nods and waits for Hua Cheng to move on. 

Only… he doesn’t. 

Instead, he grabs a chair and starts watching, chin balanced on one hand, as Xie Lian’s makeup is applied. The stylist doesn’t seem especially bothered by this. She’s busy making Xie Lian’s pale face look dusty and weather-worn and doesn’t seem to mind leaning close to him to reach some of her extra brushes and makeup pallets. Hua Cheng sitting off to the side is a relief, honestly. Now Xie Lian has somewhere definitive to direct his eyes when her chest gets a little too close to his face.

“Hua Cheng,” he says, alighting on a topic. “You showed me some of the dresses you’ve designed, but what other films have you worked on?” 

Hua Cheng raises an eyebrow. “It’s not all that interesting,” he says with a shrug. “You’ve seen the costumes for this movie. They’re not usually elaborate fantasy costumes like the one I showed you at the cafe.” 

“But you still put a lot of work into them,” Xie Lian says. He has to remember not to lean forward. It’s hard to see any of Hua Cheng’s expressions like this. “Even without the fitting, you were so meticulous about the details. I saw all the notes pinned up in your workshop. I’d like to hear about the reasons, if you can tell me.” 

Ah, Hua Cheng’s face is even hidden by his hair now (it’s loose today, none of the ponytails Xie Lian has grown used to seeing on him. Maybe it’s to hide the eyepatch). Xie Lian nearly bumps the stylist this time, trying to lean forward to see, and he settles back down in his chair with a quick apology. 

“Well, if you insist,” Hua Cheng says, sounding amused, when Xie Lian has finally settled back again. “I can talk about your costume for the movie’s opening.” He twirls a lock of hair around his finger, staring out into the middle distance. 

“In that part, you’re supposed to be rather young. Some of that effect will be accomplished with makeup and lighting and staging, but the appropriate wardrobe helps too. The oversized sweater is good for that. It will make you seem a bit smaller, with it covering your hands and hanging down your waist a little. And it will hide how broad your shoulders are and how muscular you are. Not that that’s a bad thing, but it would look out of place on the teenager you’re supposed to be playing. We’ll change the shape of the outfits when you’re supposed to be aging, to create the illusion of growth.”

He gestures to the white sweater Xie Lian is wearing, though at the moment, it’s hidden under a cloth to keep any of the stage makeup from getting onto it. “Also, the white knit material will make it easy to show the passage of time. As the sweater gets dirty and more worn, we can show how life on the streets is treating your character. It’s representative of tarnished innocence if you really want to be blatant about the symbolism. But it’s also a good way to show how unprepared your character is for the life he’s forced to live. A cashmere sweater and Vans aren’t what you want to wear when you’re going to live on the streets.” 

When Xie Lian is silent for a moment too long, Hua Cheng finally looks toward him. “Too much?” he asks, a little wry tilt to his mouth. 

“No, Hua Cheng, that was really cool,” Xie Lian says. “I didn’t realize you were putting so much work into it. Does this mean you’ll have to make different versions of the sweater?” 

“Seven,” Hua Cheng says. “I’m glad to know the effort is appreciated.” 

“That’s amazing. You’re amazing, Hua Cheng.” 

Hua Cheng smiles. “I’m glad you think so.” 

Xie Lian wishes the moment could last a little longer, but the stylist asks Xie Lian to close his eyes, and someone calls Hua Cheng’s name, and by the time Xie Lian can look again Hua Cheng has disappeared off into the bustle of people. 

Xie Lian holds still for his makeup to be perfected. He finishes getting into costume, and he sits through getting his hair artfully tangled. He’s beginning to wonder if keeping it long for this project will end up being a mistake if he has to untangle it after every day, or even worse, leave it in this state. Then there’s the waiting for his set call. He takes the time to review the script and prepare for the scenes scheduled for today. 

Aside from the makeup and the torn clothing that is his outfit for today, none of it is too intensive. There are some scenes where the cast of characters, including him, Shi Qingxuan, Mu Qing, and Feng Xin, are squatting in an abandoned house. Then there’s a chase scene after someone calls the police on them. The first part of the day will require more emotional acting, and the second part will rely on the blocking practice and timing, but they’ve rehearsed it all, and he feels prepared. He has everything he needs to; he just needs to keep from choking in front of the cameras. And the audience. And the other actors. 

You are a desperate, tired child, he reminds himself. This house is the first place you’ve had to sleep in a while. You know these people. Not enough to call them friends, but you’re willing to put up with a lot if it means someone to watch your back while you sleep.  

He’s very familiar with the mindset, and it’s easy to sink back into… that. The paranoia, the exhaustion, the feeling of dirt and oily hair and shame. 

Xie Lian flinches in surprise when one of the assistants comes and knocks on his door to tell him that it’s time. From there, he’s led to the main set for the day, a dilapidated house interior built on the studio property. They have an exterior shot arranged for another location sometime a few days later, if he remembers correctly. For now, it’ll be all inside. 

The others are gathering at their places, with Jun Wu in front of them. Xie Lian picks up the pace as he approaches. Director Jun nods as both Xie Lian and Shi Qingxuan slip into the loose circle. 

As always, Director Jun’s voice is quiet but nevertheless commands attention. Xie Lian nods and quietly returns the greeting. 

Shi Qingxuan is much more vocal about it. They give a bright laugh. “Good morning, director!” they say, earning them a frown from Feng Xin and a roll of Mu Qing’s eyes. “What is it we’re doing today?” 

Jun Wu, as always, doesn’t seem perturbed by the energy Shi Qingxuan brings to the greeting. “Quite a bit,” he says calmly. “Now, I know you all, and I know you have come to this prepared. With a quick review, I believe we shall be ready to begin. What say you all?” 

And so the day begins.

XianXia Studios - Indoor Set 3 for God of Misfortune - January 13th, 2019, 11:40 AM

Thanks to the days of blocking rehearsal, it’s much easier to settle into the rhythm of filming. It’s more stressful, of course, but there are more periods of waiting, and before long Xie Lian finds himself settling into a pattern: wake up early, rush down to the studio, wait to be called for makeup and costuming, review the script for the day, and act in brief, intensive bursts between lighting changes. 

They’re halfway through the day and making surprisingly good time, and Xie Lian is waiting on one final scene before they take a lunch break. His makeup is already touched up, so Xie Lian is left to sit, stare at his hands, and try not to fidget as the crew works. He distracts himself by watching them. The grips are re-rigging the lights, and it’s fascinating to watch the process. It involves a great deal of climbing and shouting and twisting things into place, then wiggling the whole contraption of rigging to make sure everything is secure. Even after years on a movie set, some of the instructions he hears don’t quite make sense to him. 

He keeps looking out for flashes of red and a familiar face, but it doesn’t seem like Hua Cheng is wandering the set today. Xie Lian wonders what’s keeping him away. 

“Xie Lian!” 

Shi Qingxuan flops down into the seat next to them. They’re in costume, clothing that is just as carefully ravaged as Xie Lian’s own, and artfully applied “dirt” messes up their hair and face. It’s a far cry from their usual elegance, but the exuberance is familiar. Xie Lian smiles back at them. 

“I just realized I don’t have your number. Or your twitter. Let’s add each other!” 

Xie Lian blinks at them. “Oh, I don’t—”

“If you say you don’t have a phone, I am dragging you down to the Apple store right now.” 

“It’s not that.” 

“What kind?” Qingxuan squints at him. 

“Just a Motorola.”

“Is it a smartphone?” 

Xie Lian nods. 

“Oh, good,” they say, hand over their heart. “I was worried it would be a flip phone or something ancient. Or a blackberry.” 

Xie Lian shakes his head. “Ah, no, I was going to say that I don’t have twitter.” 

Shi Qingxuan waves it off. “That’s fine, we can fix that. And Instagram. I need to be able to send you insta stories.” They meet Xie Lian’s blank look with a grin. “Wow, you really don’t do social media, huh.” 

“No. I never got into the habit, I suppose.” He shrugs, brushing it off. In truth, his phone is new. He did have a flip phone while he was still working as an actor, but it broke not long after he’d learned of the medical debt, and he'd only recently bought a new one-- only in the past year has he managed enough money from his job doing street surveys. He's still not entirely sure what to do with it or what Instagram is. “What do I have to do?”

“You’ll have to get an official account, probably,” Shi Qingxuan says with a shrug. “There are parts of the studio contract that apply to social media but it’s the same as interview guidelines, you remember those, right? You’ll be fine.” 

“I don’t have my phone on me, though,” Xie Lian notes. 

“That’s fine! We have twenty minutes before this is done anyway; let’s get it and get started!” Qingxuan grabs his hand and tugs him along toward his dressing room. Xie Lian allows himself to be led and to be walked through the steps of setting up an account and everything else that Shi Qingxuan deems necessary, including a selfie. 

“I shouldn’t use them yet,” he says. “I should check in with Ling Wen first.” 

Shi Qingxuan shrugs. “Fine, fine!” they say. “When you get approval, the first thing you’d better do is follow me.”

Ten minutes later, Ling Wen emails him back with a very long list of things not to do, a copy of his contract with Jun Wu’s studio for the movie with all the parts about social media and leaking information highlighted, and a little note at the bottom that says ‘have fun, don’t say anything stupid.’

Xie Lian stares at the phone, suddenly apprehensive. Somehow, he thought Ling Wen would be more opposed to the idea. Times have really changed! When he was young, no one on his team would ever have encouraged this sort of thing. Then again, as a child he was a bit more protected from the broader consequences of his fame. Maybe adult celebrities simply got used to it all earlier than him, or maybe he just didn’t take to it. Shi Qingxuan seems to be at ease navigating through even Xie Lian’s phone. They’re muttering things about apps and verification that Xie Lian mostly doesn’t understand but goes along with it in decent enough humor. 

“Here, what’s your email?” 

“What do you want your username to be?” 

“I’ve attached the account to your phone number, but try to remember your password anyway.” 

“Go sit in that chair, I need to take a picture of you.” 

“There,” Shi Qingxuan says, holding the phone back out to Xie Lian. “What do you think?” 

Xie Lian squints at his screen. “I trust your judgement,” he answers finally, because that’s true enough, even if he doesn’t quite know whether the picture and the profile are flattering enough. 

“Good!” Shi Qingxuan says, perching on the side of the chair to join Xie Lian in looking at his phone once more. “Now, I left the bio up to you. It’s there,” they say, opening it, and his phone keyboard pops up. “What do you want to put?” 

After a moment of thought, Xie Lian enters a few sentences. “How is that?” he asks, turning the screen back toward them. 

Shi Qingxuan makes a face. “It will do, I guess. We’ll work on it later. For now, let’s get back to set! And don’t forget to follow me back!” 

Twitter - Xie Lian Fails at the Internet - January 16th, 2019 9:00 PM

Search: Xie Lian

Top

Penny @snowfall ᐧ 3h

Xie Lian using social media is so amazing omg

Mari Doesn’t Care @shuangdaozhang ᐧ 3h
    Replying to @snowfall
        How do you do fellow kids dot gif

Jemma Jemma @silverlake ᐧ 3h
    Replying to @snowfall
        he’s like my grandpa omg. Isn’t this guy in his 20’s? 

Matthias Mouse @Mousemouse ᐧ 3h
    Replying to @silverlake, @snowfall
        isn’t he like 32

Mari Doesn’t Care @shuangdaozhang ᐧ 3h
    Replying to @Mousemouse, @silverlake, @snowfall
        I thought he was like 40

Matthias Mouse @Mousemouse ᐧ 3h
    Replying to @snowfall
        he keeps trying to respond to everyone and it’s feeding the trolls so bad

Penny @snowfall ᐧ 3h
    Replying to @Mousemouse
        he’s,,,, so polite,,,,,,

    Matthias Mouse @Mousemouse ᐧ 3h
    Replying to @snowfall
        It’s so stupid it’s brilliant. Or just doubly stupid. Doesn’t he have a publicist??? Or anything????? To stop this trainwreck of a twitter account

Shi Qingxuan @theyoungershi☑ ᐧ Jan 13

Helped @fangxin start his twitter on set today lol. He’s like an old man!!! Ilu Xie Lian really. 💞 Everyone be gentle to him!!! 

Search: @fangxin

1 User

Xie Lian
@fangxin 

I’m an actor. Thank you for joining me! 🙏

Tweets

Xie Lian @fangxin ᐧ Jan 15

The weather in LA is very nice today!

Xie Lian @fangxin ᐧ Jan 14

You’re all so creative with the little faces you make, how do you come up with them?

Xie Lian @fangxin ᐧ Jan 14
    Replying to @fangxin
        The one that’s shrugging and the table flipping one are especially good. I can’t find the symbols for them on my phone.

Xie Lian @fangxin ᐧ Jan 13

Shi Qingxuan, how do I follow you back? 

Tweets & replies

Qi Right @Bestrashboi ᐧ Jan 13

Do us a favor and leave god of misfortune already @fangxin #BoycottTrashMovie

    Xie Lian @fangxin ᐧ Jan 13
    Replying to @Bestrashboi
        I’m sorry, but director Jun asked me to help him out on this project, and I would hate to let him down when things are this far along. 

Pein @10kcarbsaday ᐧ Jan 13

@fangxin how does it feel to be the biggest failure in the industry???

Xie Lian @fangxin ᐧ Jan 14
    Replying to @10kcarbsaday
        I didn’t realize it was true! It’s certainly a unique experience. 

Pei Ming @2hawt ᐧ Jan 13

@fangxin I can’t believe you’re doing updog now 😭😭😭

Xie Lian @fangxin ᐧ Jan 15
    Replying to @2hawt
        What’s updog? 

XianXia Studios - Outside of Indoor Set 3 - February 4th, 2019, 4:47 PM

By the end of the first month of filming, Xie Lian is exhausted and numb. His eyes itch in a distant sort of way, and his throat feels clogged and achy. Still, he manages a few polite goodbyes to the other actors before he leaves to hunt down his bicycle.

He ends up sitting on the concrete steps outside a side entrance, curled in over himself, and rubbing his fingers together. It’s still a lovely day—hot, but the sun is settling into the horizon, and the air is cooling off. He should get dinner and shower and sleep. He’s grateful that he can. 

His gut is still churning. He presses his fingers to his forehead, but it doesn’t relieve the pressure. 

He’d known going into this that Jun Wu meant for the homeless scenes to be real and visceral. It was why he’d wanted to do this. He’d wanted everyone leaving the theater to know that this is it. This is what it’s like. 

But that means putting himself back in it too, and it’s jarring to look up from that hopeless, tired feeling and see eyes and cameras on him. He wants to curl up and beg them not to look. The littlest details will drag him out of the headspace, too. He’ll look down at his feet and be surprised because those aren’t the shoes he was wearing for eighteen months— the soles aren’t worn down yet, and they were white, not red. He didn’t go to sleep under a bridge— he found a landing outside of an office building, where he didn’t have to worry about getting mugged. 

The sound of a door opening behind him startles him upright. He turns around to see Hua Cheng standing there, apparently as surprised to see him as he is to be seen. 

“Ah—” he manages, wincing at how raw his voice sounds. “I’m sorry. I’ll get out of your way.” 

He’s already starting to move, but Hua Cheng gestures for him to sit. His eye is focused intently on Xie Lian’s face. Then, rather than step past the way Xie Lian expected, he sits down on the stair next to him. 

“Hua Cheng, your clothes…”

“They’ll keep,” he says, his attention still on Xie Lian’s face. It’s the kind of gaze that stabs through him, the kind that should make him feel like a butterfly pinned to a board, but there’s something about the set of Hua Cheng’s mouth that changes it. 

Finally, he looks away. “Have you seen the sets for the homeless shelter yet?” he asks. 

“I— no,” Xie Lian says, startled. “Those are for next week?” 

Hua Cheng nods slowly. “There’s a scene in the script with donated clothes—do you remember it?” 

“Right,” Xie Lian says. During the first night in the homeless shelter. That scene is supposed to be the moment where he— his character— breaks down and cries for the first time. The script calls it [an emotional moment, half relief, half despair]. 

“The clothes won’t fit,” Hua Cheng says, “because they never do. And the socks are terrible, scratchy things. But they’re clean, and they’re socks. And you should be grateful, because they’re clean, and they’re socks. But you hate socks.” 

Hua Cheng is still staring ahead, but Xie Lian can see the distant look in his eye, the tension in his shoulders. He knows he’s not the ‘you’ Hua Cheng means. 

He can see the shape of the image that Hua Cheng is painting, but the question that forms the heart of it dies on his tongue. He ducks his head to look down at the chipped surface of the concrete stairs and takes a chance. 

When his hand makes contact with Hua Cheng’s, braced on his knee, he can hear an intake of breath. He tenses, prepared to withdraw, but the fingers under his hand don’t move, and the breath is released slowly, quietly, into the air. 

Neither of them shifts until dusk has settled down into true night. 

Twitter - @fangxin’s Mentions - February 25th, 2019 8:00 PM

Shi Qingxuan @theyoungershi☑ ᐧ Feb 25

@fangxin Yo! We’re going out for drinks you want in?

Xie Lian @fangxin ᐧ Feb 25
    Replying to @theyoungershi
        I’d be happy to! Though I don’t drink

Shi Qingxuan @theyoungershi☑ ᐧ Feb 25
    Replying to @fangxin
        What?? Okay that’s cool, designated driver

Xie Lian @fangxin ᐧ Feb 25
    Replying to @theyoungershi
        I also can’t drive, sorry

Shi Qingxuan @theyoungershi☑ ᐧ Feb 25
    Replying to @fangxin
        Oh my god dianxia you’re a precious little child. Come along anyway! This place has great virgin cocktails and it’ll be FUN! You still have fun right

Xie Lian @fangxin ᐧ Feb 25
    Replying to @theyoungershi
        I do still have fun. Where and when should this be?

Shi Qingxuan @theyoungershi☑ ᐧ Feb 25
    Replying to @fangxin
        I’ll DM u 

Celestial Array Website (Videos) - NEW Exclusive Behind The Scenes Footage from God of Misfortune - February 28th, 12:00 PM

Video: God of Misfortune, Behind the Scenes 1

[video]

The cast and crew are hard at work on this film! Stay tuned for an interview with Director Jun Wu and some behind-the-scenes footage of the cast and crew at work.

Our favorite timestamps: 

2:14 Shi Qingxuan trying to drag the four actors together, despite some awkward looks on their parts.

2:20 A game of chicken with Shi Qingxuan riding on Xie Lian’s shoulders and Mu Qing riding on Feng Xin’s. The game slows to a halt when Feng Xin and Mu Qing get distracted arguing with each other, and Shi Qingxuan urges Xie Lian to sneak up on them and topple them. 

4:51 Actors Xie Lian, Feng Xin, and Shi Qingxuan getting their makeup touched up between takes. Feng Xin is clearly flustered and flailing at his stylist, which knocks Shi QIngxuan back and makes Xie Lian stumble into a nearby Hua Cheng.

5:23 Shi Qingxuan trying to teach a bewildered Xie Lian how to floss (yes, the dance). Mu Qing in the background is glaring while Feng Xin walks away with his hands in the air. 

Downtown Los Angeles - On-Site for God of Misfortune Filming - March 3rd, 2019, 9:42 AM

“What did you do,” Shi Qingxuan hisses, “dump a whole soda on your costume?” 

Xie Lian looks away from his script to find Shi Qingxuan leaning over, hand held up to mask their words as they whisper to him. “No,” he says, looking down at himself automatically, though he hasn’t touched a soda today or even in the past week. He looks just fine, as far as he can tell. “Why?”

“Because Hua Cheng has been glaring at you all day like he’s going to eat your head off,” Shi Qingxuan says. “Didn’t I tell you not to get on his bad side? Ah, he’s doing it again!” 

Xie Lian twists around in his chair to follow Shi Qingxuan’s eyes (ignoring their flailing hand and their hissed “no, don’t look! ”) and catches sight of Hua Cheng on the far side of the set, discussing something with one of the costuming crew. He gives a smile and waves his hand over his head in lieu of calling out a greeting. Hua Cheng blinks, then returns the greeting with a slight tilting of his head. 

When he looks back to Shi Qingxuan again, their mouth is hanging open. Then they start batting at him with both hand and folding fan. “What was that!” they demand. “Lian-xiong! What! Was! That!” 

“What was what?” Xie Lian says, holding up his script to defend himself. “I was just saying hi.” 

The gentle thwap -ing continues. “To Hua Cheng! Did you know, he made Feng Xin speechless for an hour just by lecturing him about having a loose thread on his sleeve?” 

Xie Lian blinks. No, he didn’t know that. 

Shi Qingxuan shakes their head. “He must just like you,” they say, slightly awed. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Xie Lian says quietly and pretends to bury his attention in his script again, leaning forward so that his hair falls down to hide his pink face. 

XianXia Studios - Indoor Set 1 for God of Misfortune - March 10th, 2019, 7:51 PM

The problem with acting is that sometimes the line’s blur. 

It’s been a long day already, in a long week of intense scenes and tricky line deliveries. In retrospect, Xie Lian is surprised that this is the first time it happens. But then again, this is the first fight scene they’re doing in this film. It’s not their usual action-adventure roles where they have plenty of choreographed action sequences where they do their own stunts. 

In a way, maybe it would have been easier to avoid if they were doing something so fantastical. In those fights, with wires and rigging and elaborate costumes, it’s easier to compartmentalize, focus on the physicality of the act, rather than the emotion.

In God of Misfortune , the fights are visceral, emotional, and real. 

So when Xie Lian’s character—when Xie Lian— yells, “You only care about yourself!” he doesn’t— he doesn’t think he means it. He doesn’t want to mean it. 

But there’s a part of him that hurts hurts hurts looking at Mu Qing’s face, and all he can see is him pulling away when everything was crumbling, and 

“You left me—”

Mu Qing slaps him. 

It staggers him. He can only stare in surprise as his face smarts. He can see the way Mu Qing’s eyes widen as he realizes what he’s done. (The hit was in the script. They’ve rehearsed this for hours. It wasn’t supposed to connect. Mu Qing was supposed to pull it. Xie Lian was supposed to dodge. Neither of them did.)

Xie Lian punches back on instinct, and that gets Mu Qing doubling over with a gasped curse. Xie Lian is unsteady— the gesture has carried him forward until they’re tangled up together and falling. Xie Lian’s shoulder clips a bench on the way down. He can hear Feng Xin shouting, and hands on him trying to pull the two of them away, and then—

“Cut!” 

Jun Wu’s voice, ringing over the sounds of shouting, brings him back to reality. Mu Qing is still wheezing a little bit. Feng Xin’s hand is tight on his shoulder. Xie Lian blinks away the blurriness in his eyes.

Then he takes one deep breath, then another. His shoulders are tense. When Feng Xin shoves at him, Xie Lian stops himself from shoving back and instead steps away. He can hear the on-site medic bustling over, but he turns away and tries to control his breathing. 

He hears murmuring behind him, but he focuses on clearing the adrenaline out of his system before he turns around. He can feel people staring at them, but he closes his eyes and tries to ignore it. 

“Sir?” 

Xie Lian opens his eyes to see the medic in front of him. 

“Are you all right?” 

“I’m fine,” Xie Lian says quickly, but he lets the woman get a good look at his cheek anyway. By the time she’s determined that he won’t have much more than a faint bruise, Xie Lian is feeling much calmer, if a little bit embarrassed. He turns back to Mu Qing, who’s still sitting where he fell.

“Are you all right? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hit that hard.” 

Mu Qing just nods curtly and accepts Feng Xin’s hand up, still wheezing. He isn’t meeting Xie Lian’s eyes. Xie Lian’s stomach sinks. 

“I believe we have everything we need,” Jun Wu says, coming up to them. “That was very well done. The three of you take a break.” 

Xie Lian can only nod. The truth is, even if it hadn’t been well done, he doesn’t think he can do that again. 

Feng Xin, who has been hovering in the background this entire time, reaches out to grab Xie Lian. Bewildered, he doesn’t resist, even when Feng Xin also grabs a much more resistant Mu Qing and starts pulling them along. “You two, with me,” he says stiffly, and brings them both into his dressing room. 

Mu Qing jerks away from the hand on his wrist. “What,” he says flatly. He’s still looking in every direction but Xie Lian’s. 

“You,” Feng Xin snaps, “shut up.” He turns on Xie Lian, but his expression shifts from his former uncomplicated annoyance to something more troubled. More awkward. “Look, we’re…”

“I’m sorry,” Xie Lian interrupts, bowing his head toward Mu Qing. “If you’d like to take things to the Director, I…”

“Shut up!” 

This time, it’s both Feng Xin and Mu Qing who snap at him. 

Xie Lian shuts up. 

“You could at least get mad!” Mu Qing snaps. “Just shout at me! For once! I—” His fists are white-knuckled at his sides. “Why aren’t you mad ? If it were me, I’d be.”

Despite himself, Xie Lian lets out a weak laugh. “I’m tired of being mad,” he says. “And I didn’t make it easy to stay friends with me, either.” 

Feng Xin looks like he wants to punch something. Mu Qing is glaring resolutely at the ceiling. 

“You…” Feng Xin starts to say, then breaks away to pace. “Fuck! You’re always like this!” 

“If you’re on the movie, it’s because you deserve to be,” Mu Qing says. “So we’re working with you. Even if you did fuck off for years without saying anything.” 

There’s a wild look to both of them, so Xie Lian wisely remains quiet for a bit longer. Sure enough, the two of them trade glances. 

“Where have you been?” Mu Qing asks, finally. He looks angry, like the simple fact that he has to ask the question is bothering him. Feng Xin is still pacing and struggles to look Xie Lian in the face. “You disappeared, you bastard. What happened?” 

Xie Lian hesitates. He knows the answer that would probably comfort them more, though it’s not a true one. He imagines they think that he travelled to China. According to Ling Wen, it’s the most popular story about his absence, and she’d proved willing not to pry when he remained close-mouthed on the issue. Feng Xin and Mu Qing won’t accept him avoiding the question, but looking at their faces… he wonders what they know. Surely it isn’t much. He thinks they’d only feel guilty about it. 

Their last conversations had been… angry is a gentle word for it, he thinks. Xie Lian had lashed out at his friends, assuming foolishly that they would weather this from him, not realizing that they had been forced to deal with the industry without him by their side. Looking back on it now, he can see that they must have felt some level of resentment towards him, that acting and fame seemed to come so easily to him. The two of them have struggled in their own ways, and while he didn’t realize it then—or maybe they were more graceful about it than he ever knew at the time—they had to have resented, just a bit, being in his shadow. 

No wonder they let him crash and burn on his own. With the struggles of so many of their peers to make their way in an industry that trained them since childhood, they knew the precarious nature of their situations in a way that Xie Lian hadn’t noticed until it was far too late. 

But it has still been years, and looking at them now, Xie Lian thinks they must have grown up too. Maybe they regret not doing more then. He doesn’t blame them for those choices, but he can recognize the guilt hiding between Mu Qing’s surly exterior and Feng Xin’s compulsive pacing. 

So he does not lie. That would be disrespectful to them. Still, he lowers his eyes. “I just couldn’t stay in Hollywood, after everything,” he says quietly. No need to talk about the struggles he faced, not when those struggles were no one’s fault but his own. “I didn’t expect Jun Wu to reach out to me.” 

This, too, is true. He doesn’t know quite how Jun Wu did it, though maybe it’s Xie Lian’s permanent resident status that made it possible. It’s luck, or perhaps determination. Determination certainly seems to be the more likely cause, when it comes to Jun Wu. 

“I’m not mad at either of you,” he says. “To be justified in it, I would have to be just as angry at myself. You have nothing to be guilty about.” 

Mu Qing scoffs. “You can’t expect us to believe that,” he hisses. 

“Xie Lian, we know—” 

Xie Lian shakes his head, even as a chill runs down his spine. “It doesn’t matter,” he says. He tries to meet their eyes, but now Mu Qing and Feng Xin both are avoiding looking him in the face. “We’re all here, still. Neither of you betrayed me, or anything so dramatic. You had careers to look out for, and I don’t blame you for thinking that way.”

“And that won’t happen again?” 

Xie Lian bites his lip. “I… can’t promise I won’t speak out against corruption,” he says, shaking his head. “But, I think I’ve learned to be a little smarter about it.” 

Again, Mu Qing scoffs. “I doubt it,” he says. Feng Xin punches him on the shoulder. 

“Just… let us know first,” he mumbles. “In case you need backup.” Mu Qing nods at his side, even as he elbows Feng Xin back in the ribs. 

Xie Lian’s eyes are suspiciously blurry. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you both.” 

He makes no promises— but he doesn’t think they expected any.

Twitter - @fangxin’s Feed - March 13th, 2019 11:14 AM

Xie Lian @fangxin ᐧ 10m

I think it was abandoned? What should I do?

[An image of a white kitten being held cradled in what is clearly someone’s white sweater, wet and sick. The background appears to be a rainy sidewalk, and the sweater bundle is apparently held to someone’s chest. Their shirt is nearly see-through from water]

                Tamagotcha @katieeeeeee 2m
        Replying to @fangxin
            Omg the poor baby!!! Who would do that?

                Tamagotcha @katieeeeeee 2m
        Replying to @fangxin
            Ummmm I think you’re supposed to dry them off and feed them… maybe a shelter???

                Hua Cheng ☑ @tanhua ᐧ 9m
        Replying to @fangxin
            I’ll DM you. 

Messages

Xie Lian @fangxin

Get it as dry and warm as you can, and move it somewhere out of the rain. Check whether its eyes are open and for any fleas or injuries.

You don’t have an umbrella, do you?

Okay. Thank you! Can’t message much, kitten is squirmy

Its claws are sharp! And eyes are openn

Xie Lian, where are you?

S Main and 7th why?

Hua Cheng?

Downtown Los Angeles - Under an Awning - March 13th, 2019 11:25 AM

Even sick kittens can be very squirmy, Xie Lian is quickly coming to realize. When he’d first spotted this little blob of white fur crouched miserably amidst some trash bags, he’d thought for a second that it was dead. He’d made his way over anyway, just in case, and was rewarded with a pitiful whine and slow blink. 

The poor thing had only meowed louder when Xie Lian had picked it up, and its attempts at squirming away were weak and uncoordinated. It still nearly managed to throw itself out of Xie Lian’s hands as he tried to look it over. So he’d pulled off his sweater and wrapped the kitten up in it, in an attempt to keep it still just as much as to keep it warm and out of the rain. 

Now he’s hanging out under an awning, trying to comb wet hair out of his face while also texting Hua Cheng and holding onto his kitten burrito, all of which are two hand jobs on their own. It’s been at least ten minutes since Hua Cheng texted him, and he’s starting to get a little worried. He shouldn’t sit around outside, especially not if the kitten is sick, but he doesn’t know where to start. Does it need milk? Cat food? A vet? He doesn’t want to leave it alone in his apartment, either. 

Maybe he should turn to twitter to help, but… last he checked most of the responses were just cooing over how cute the kitten was, and the others were the kind of messages that Qingxuan has told him he shouldn’t respond to. 

Most of the advice seems to be conflicting, too. He desperately hopes Hua Cheng will respond soon— he seemed to know what to do, anyway. 

In his lap, the kitten meows plaintively. Xie Lian runs his fingers over its forehead. “I know, it sucks,” he murmurs. “Cats really do hate water, don’t they? Or maybe it’s just that cats like you who got cold and wet as kittens and hate to be reminded. I’ve seen videos of cats who love to swim. Shi Qingxuan likes sending me things like that. And meymeys. Or, how do they say it? Memes? I can’t remember.” 

The kitten squirms again, almost escaping Xie Lian’s arms, and he has to quickly sit down, even though it gets his pants slightly wet to do so. There’s dirt on them, but the important part is that he manages to avoid dropping the poor kitten into a puddle. 

Thus stymied in its attempts to escape, the kitten begins to let off shrill, plaintive meows, its little body straining with their force, and it's pink eyes half-closing with each one. Xie Lian murmurs to it. He wants to check his phone again, but with the threat of another escape attempt looming, he doesn’t quite dare divert his attention. Hopefully, Hua Cheng will get back to him soon. The rain doesn’t seem close to letting up yet, but maybe he can find a store that will let him in and maybe give him a little bit of milk. 

“You’re soaked.”

Xie Lian looks up as the rain stops. Hua Cheng steps forward, holding out his umbrella to cover them both. 

“I didn’t realize you were actually coming all this way,” Xie Lian says. The bundle in his arms squirms again and lets out a pitiful meow. 

“I was in the area,” Hua Cheng says. He’s holding a bag in one hand— his groceries, maybe? Some sort of shopping. It’s hardly been ten minutes. Wherever Hua Cheng was, it must really be nearby. “For now, you should both get out of the rain. I can help with the kitten.” 

“Wh—really?” 

Hua Cheng nods and beckons him along with a jerk of his chin. “I have a cat. I can take care of this one until you decide what you’re going to do with it.” 

Xie Lian wobbles in the process of getting to his feet, mostly out of surprise. He can just imagine his co-stars’ faces if they heard that declaration. “I never knew!” he says, as Hua Cheng starts walking them along, still holding the umbrella over Xie Lian’s head. “What’s your cat’s name?” 

Hua Cheng shrugs. “E-Ming,” he says. “I don’t talk about him much. He’s far too spoiled.” There’s a quirk to his mouth as he looks over the bundle of sweater, still writhing in Xie Lian’s arms. “Let’s see what you’ve found. That will change what we need to do.” 

“What do you mean?” Xie Lian asks as he nevertheless begins to peel back the sweater. The little white kitten blinks and gives a whining meow as its cocoon is peeled away from it. 

“Ah, it’s a few weeks old,” Hua Cheng notes. “If it was younger, I would say take it to a shelter. They’d have to bottle feed it. At this age, they can start eating proper food. Much easier to care for.” 

“Oh.” Xie Lian looks down at the little kitten. “How can you tell?” 

“The size. The younger they are, the more round they look. This one is still young, but more… toddler.” 

“Wow, Hua Cheng, you know a lot about cats.” 

Hua Cheng shrugs. “Here,” he says, and gestures them along. “Come with me.” 

Hua Cheng has long legs, and he’s walking quickly, leading them along South Main Street, so Xie Lian is forced to fumble the kitten back into his sweater and stretch his legs to keep up. Hua Cheng at least keeps the umbrella over both of them, but he doesn’t talk as he takes them further away from the shop that Xie Lian used as a shelter. 

It takes a bit longer than Xie Lian is expecting, but eventually, Hua Cheng turns off the street and into a doorway. Xie Lian goes to follow him, then looks up at the building they’re approaching. It’s a new one, all shiny glass and chrome outsides. “Ah, Hua Cheng…” 

“It’s just up here,” Hua Cheng says, gesturing to the doorway. “Come along out of the rain.” 

“What is?” Xie Lian asks. 

“My place.” 

Xie Lian glances around again. He’s not an expert on housing prices in L.A. since he’s been confined to the cheapest possible option ever since he left the shelter, but while this isn’t exactly a mansion on the hills, a building like this can’t be cheap to have an apartment in. Then again, it was the sort of thing he should probably expect for a person who’s the head of costuming for a movie with as famous a director as Jun Wu. 

The building he leads Xie Lian to is undeniably fancy. There’s a locked front door with a security guard sitting in an office just beyond. The man doesn’t even blink at Xie Lian dripping water on the floor; he just gives Hua Cheng a smile as he lets them through. Everything is elegant and spotlessly clean. Xie Lian feels a little embarrassed for coming in with his worn jeans and his dripping hair, even though Hua Cheng is dressed about as casually as him. 

Hua Cheng leads them to an elevator, then down a hallway. The building is… very empty. They don’t pass anyone else on their way, and all of the apartment doors are widely spaced. Xie Lian is reminded intensely of the houses of his childhood: Hua Cheng is doing very well for himself indeed. 

“Watch out,” Hua Cheng says, and Xie Lian blinks back into the present to see Hua Cheng standing in front of one of the doors, his hand on the knob. “E-Ming likes to try to make a run for it. Don’t let him get past you.” 

And then he opens the door and waves Xie Lian into the apartment. 

There’s not much to see at first. Then Xie Lian sees the art decorating the front hallway, which— although in incomprehensible cursive characters— is ornate and stylized and the exact kind of understated that usually means a high price tag. At the end of the hallway that the room beyond is an immense open-plan kitchen/living/dining room, the type that looks amazingly modern and usually means very expensive, especially in a city like Los Angeles where space is at a premium.

Xie Lian,” Hua Cheng says, nudging Xie Lian forward. The door closes behind them with a click, just in time for a thin black blur to dart forward toward them. 

E-Ming, apparently, is a black cat with a single yellow eye. He meows loudly as he sees them and starts winding his way around their ankles. Hua Cheng promptly picks him up and deposits him on top of a shoe stand. “Watch out,” he advises Xie Lian. “He’ll trip you if you’re not careful.” 

“He looks very sweet,” Xie Lian says. He carefully frees a hand to hold out toward E-Ming, who sniffs and then rubs his head up against Xie Lian’s hand so hard that he loses his balance and has to jump right back off the little table. 

“He’s a menace,” Hua Cheng says, stepping deftly over the cat and ignoring the growing meows. “This way. We’ll need to bring the kitten into the bathroom for now.” 

“Why there?” 

“To keep it quarantined,” Hua Cheng says. “It might be sick.” 

Xie Lian tries not to be too obvious about looking around Hua Cheng’s house as they move through it, but it’s hard not to be curious. The entire place looks like it was plucked straight out of a magazine. Most of the doors are closed, but at the end of the hallway, Xie Lian can see one door that’s left a few inches open and seems to be filled with a riot of color. 

The room Hua Cheng leads him to instead is a bathroom off the hall. As soon as he’s there, he gestures Xie Lian toward the tub, then begins pulling things from his shopping bag, which he hadn’t left in the front hall. The first is a cat bed and a little toy, both of which he deposits in the tub. The third is a can of kitten food and a dish. 

The kitten begins to wobble around the tub as soon as Xie Lian lets it down. 

“That’s a girl,” Hua Cheng observes. “Keep an eye on her. At that age she might just jump out of the tub. She looks healthy, but she’ll need to go to a vet to be checked for parasites, and to get her shots. And she looks to be albino, which can come with its own form of complicated health problems. Also, if she has an owner, they’ll probably want her back.” 

“She doesn’t have a collar,” Xie Lian observes. 

“She might have a microchip,” Hua Cheng shrugs. “A vet could find out.” 

He cracks open the can— Xie Lian can hear E-Ming whine from outside the bathroom door, which makes the kitten perk up and begin meowing again. 

“Have you thought about what you’re going to call her? While you have her.” 

“Hm?” Xie Lian blinks. “I hadn’t even thought about keeping her, to be honest. I suppose she really is cute, but kittens take a lot of time and attention, don’t they? I thought I might hand her to a shelter.” 

“One this old might take less than you think, especially if there are other cats around that get along with her,” Hua Cheng observes. “And shelters at this time of year might be full. If you can take care of her for a few days, why not? You have a break in filming, don’t you?” 

“I guess so,” Xie Lian says. “It’ll be enough time to take her to the vet, anyway… but I really don’t know about names. I’m not the best at naming things.” 

Hua Cheng begins scooping cat food out onto a little saucer. In the background, E-Ming’s meows reach a fever pitch. “Ignore him,” Hua Cheng says when he catches Xie Lian glancing toward the door. “He’s already been fed. He just doesn’t like feeling excluded. As for names...” he puts the food down and then picks the kitten up before she can bolt over for that meal. “She looks a little like a demon with those pink eyes of hers, doesn’t she? Maybe Ruoye, then.” 

That startles a laugh out of Xie Lian. “Hua Cheng! Do you always give animals such bleak names?” 

Hua Cheng only shrugs as he sets her down again, this time in front of the food. She practically falls into it in her eagerness. “Don’t you think it lends them an air of mystery? And it makes people wary of petting them.” 

Xie Lian, still smiling, shakes his head. “Is that a good thing?” 

“I think so.” 

They watch the kitten eat in silence for a while, but when she starts to lose steam, Hua Cheng pulls the plate away and replaces it with one of the towels. “She’ll probably want to nap for a little while,” he says. “After that, we can figure out what to do with her.” Then Hua Cheng shakes his hair away from his face, then pauses and frowns at Xie Lian. “You didn’t even say anything. You’re soaked. Here, let me get you a change of clothes.” 

“Oh—” Xie Lian glances down, and sure enough, he’s dripping everywhere. Now that he’s reminded of it, the combination of water and air conditioning makes him shiver. At least they’re in the bathroom. “No, it’s okay, I wouldn’t want to trouble you.” 

“It’s no trouble. I’ll just get you something to change into,” Hua Cheng says. “I’ll be right back.” 

Before Xie Lian can protest any longer, Hua Cheng disappears, shoving E-Ming away from the bathroom door with one foot. He snaps it quickly closed behind him. 

He isn’t gone for long, either. When he does, he’s holding a pair of jeans and a surprisingly soft grey sweatshirt. Both seem to be in much better condition than the worn clothing Xie Lian is wearing. 

“You’re really sure?” he asks cautiously. Hua Cheng waves him off. “I’m going to make something hot. Coffee?” 

“Ah. Tea, please,” Xie Lian says, and Hua Cheng nods and disappears again. Xie Lian looks down at the clothes, then over at little Ruoye— because he already knows the name will stick, no matter how dramatic it seems for such a tiny kitten— and sighs. “Don’t look,” he says, drawing the shower curtain. 

He tries to dry off using Hua Cheng’s towels and does his best not to feel strange about it. Hua Cheng’s clothing lives up to its appearance in being extremely comfortable, and Xie Lian hangs his own things over the towel rack to dry. The other towel goes over his own hair. 

When he emerges from the bathroom, E-Ming nearly gets caught in the door. “None of that, now,” Xie Lian says, but E-Ming abandons it when Xie Lian closes the door and begins to walk towards the kitchen, in favor of following him and rubbing against his legs. 

“Do you think he can smell the kitten on me?” Xie Lian asks as he enters. Hua Cheng looks up from the mugs he’s prepared, then down at his cat. 

“No,” he says with a shrug. “He just likes you, I think. So. That kitten?” 

“You’re right, I think I’ll keep her for now. Do you know any vets I could call?” 

Hua Cheng slides a piece of paper across the table to him. “I looked it up,” he says. “That should take care of it. And you can take those supplies I brought.” 

“That’s generous of you,” Xie Lian observes. Hua Cheng only shrugs. 

It takes several hours for the rain to stop, and by that time, Xie Lian’s hair is dry, and their tea has gone cold for their talking. When Xie Lian leaves, it’s with a carrier full of sleeping kitten, two bags of supplies, and a promise to call on Hua Cheng if he should need anything. He also can’t seem to stop smiling, but he blames that entirely on Ruoye’s adorable little yawns. 

Downtown Los Angeles - On-Site Actors’ Ready Room - March 18th, 2019, 8:15 AM

A knock on Xie Lian’s door catches him in the middle of pulling off his sweatshirt. 

“Come in!” he calls, trying and failing to pull the cloth up over his head without messing up his hair too much. It doesn’t work, and by the time he’s gotten the tight neckline up over his head and the sleeves down off his arms, his hair has become a rat’s nest of disarrayed strands. 

“Oh… Hua Cheng!” 

Flustered, Xie Lian runs a hand through his hair and tugs his shirt back down over his chest. What a time for him to come in, when Xie Lian was expecting Shi Qingxuan… 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize it was you,” he says quickly. “What is it? Do they need me on set?” 

“No, nothing like that,” Hua Cheng says. One eyebrow is raised, and there’s a pink cast to his cheeks and the tops of his ears. Xie Lian wonders if he’d made his way over from the costuming tents. It’s an unusually hot day for mid-March, and Xie Lian already isn’t looking forward to filming in a sweater. 

Hua Cheng holds up a package. “This is one of the alternate costumes for your scenes today. We’ve altered the fit on some of the previous ones on-site. I wanted to make sure this one matched.” 

“Oh! All right,” Xie Lian agrees. “Lucky that I just took off mine,” he says, taking the sweater and pulling it over his head. 

Hua Cheng just hums in agreement and starts tugging at the sweater where it sits around his waist. 

Now clad in the sweater and already feeling the heat, Xie Lian looks at his sleeves instead. “Oh, this one is much more ragged,” he notes, poking at some of the holes in the hems. “For the sleeping bag stealing scene, right?” 

“Right,” Hua Cheng says. “At that point your character has been living on the streets for six months. Some fake dirt can only communicate so much.” 

“It really looks like it’s been worn for six months,” Xie Lian says, putting his fingers through the holes.  

“Then I’ve done my job right,” Hua Cheng smirks. “Stop fidgeting. I need to see how it fits.” 

Xie Lian obediently stills his hands and waits for Hua Cheng to finish circling him. “Do you need to make any changes?” 

“No, I think I’ll leave it be,” Hua Cheng says. His eyes seem to be lingering on Xie Lian, but his smirk hasn’t disappeared. “Makeup can handle the rest of you.” 

“Great.” Xie Lian tugs the sweater back up over his head, groaning as this one also catches his hair. “If I didn’t have to wear any layers today, that would be great,” he sighs. 

“Blame your hubris as an actor,” Hua Cheng says, his smirk widening. He reaches out to smooth down one of the locks of Xie Lian’s hair, tucking it behind his ear. “I hear they have water and air conditioning hidden away in the actors’ trailer, though. I may have to sneak in and join you there.” 

“I wouldn’t mind if you did,” Xie Lian says, then flushes. “I mean. You should be here anyway if you’re going to be on site all day.” 

“I’ll consider it an invitation, then,” Hua Cheng says. His hand lingers by Xie Lian’s ear. 

He’s not wearing a sweater anymore, but Xie Lian still finds it a little too hot in here. “I’d better get over to makeup,” he says and ducks past Hua Cheng, out into the warmth of the day. His heart is hammering, just a little. He glances back just before the door closes and sees Hua Cheng standing there, one hand still raised. 

XianXia Studios - Indoor Set 2 for God of Misfortune - March 29th, 2019, 9:19 PM

“And… cut.” 

Everyone on set is holding their breath as they look to Jun Wu, who has his head bent over one of the cameras. 

Today is the final day of shooting, the final scene. The air has been electric. On some of the sets Xie Lian has worked on, the last weeks of shooting had been a drag, an endless spiral of retakes and lagging energy and the relief of finally reaching the end. In this case… somehow it’s different. Xie Lian has been basking in the energy, feeling more and more revitalized as the shoot goes on. Maybe it’s just the routine of it finally sinking in, as Xie Lian gets back into the method of acting, manages to feel comfortable in his own skin again. Mu Qing and Feng Xin are talking to him, Shi Qingxuan has become more of a friend than Xie Lian ever expected them to be, and the relief he feels now that they are is amazing. It’s awkward and fumbling, but it’s progress. It’s healing. 

If it were just those things, Xie Lian would have thought it was all in his head, but Jun Wu has scheduled the most lighthearted scenes for the end of their shoot, and the buoyant mood has carried through all the actors and into the crew. They’re getting every shot in two or three takes, and the transitions seem to be going faster than ever. Everything feels like a well-oiled machine. We can do this , the atmosphere says. We’re doing this. We’re making something great. 

The only disappointment is that it means things are coming to an end that much sooner. 

There might be reshoots during the editing process, of course. Jun Wu doesn’t usually need much more than he’s gotten in the field, but it’s possible. Still, it doesn’t feel likely. 

Xie Lian stays where he is, watching the slight frown on Jun Wu’s face as the director reviews the footage, and presses a hand to his mouth. He feels almost breathless, even a little bit dizzy. Beside him, Shi Qingxuan is bouncing on their toes.

Finally, Jun Wu looks up and smiles. “End scene. That’s a wrap. Congratulations, everyone.” 

Cheers break out. Shi Qingxuan lets out a whoop and throws an arm around Xie Lian’s shoulders, pulling him down into a friendly and enthusiastic hug. “We did it!” 

“Good job,” Xie Lian says, laughing along with their bubbling energy. “We did it.” 

Xie Lian catches a glimpse of red in the background, but before he can do more than take a step in that direction, he’s swept up in a crowd of the crew, laughing and chattering, and the next time he looks up, Hua Cheng is gone. 

It takes hours to find him again. There’s a party, of course, with catering and alcohol and plenty of people partying and dancing, but although Xie Lian can find people who think they’ve seen Hua Cheng recently, none of them can actually point him in his direction. Instead he wanders around from group to group, chattering occasionally and dodging the glasses and cans that people try to press into his hands. 

Eventually, he manages to slip away with a brief excuse and step outside of their gathering tent to breathe in the cooling night air. He’s tired and sweaty, and his good mood is starting to slip into something quieter, where he wants to be alone. 

“Here.” Cold metal thunks gently against his shoulder. Xie Lian looks up to see Hua Cheng, a drink in one hand, and a can of seltzer held out to Xie Lian. “They buried the other drinks under the beer in the cooler.” 

“Thanks, Hua Cheng.” Xie Lian pops the tab and takes a sip. He’s had Hua Cheng on his mind all day, but now that they’re actually face to face, he’s grateful for the opportunity to stall a little. With Hua Cheng’s eye on him like this, it’s surprisingly hard to get his thoughts together. 

Behind them, the sounds of the party are loud and boisterous, but out here it feels like a bubble of calm has surrounded them as they look out over the rest of the lot. Hua Cheng is standing shoulder to shoulder with him, just close enough that Xie Lian can feel the heat of his body. 

“So,” he finally asks. “What are you working on next? Now that this is all finished. A costume designer as good as you, you’ve surely got some other work lined up, right?” 

“I could say the same for you,” Hua Cheng retorts.

Xie Lian hides a snort behind his seltzer. “I don’t know about that. Just because I’ve done one movie doesn’t mean my reputation has been repaired. I’m sure Ling Wen will have me doing auditions for a while, but I’m lucky to have gotten this chance, no matter what else happens.” 

“If you set your mind to it, I’m sure you could become a star again. Your work is too good for you not to,” Hua Cheng says, turning to face him directly. 

The urge to hide his face behind his drink is growing stronger, with that eye looking so intensely at him. “Mm, but my acting isn’t the only thing that can make or break a movie. And if it bombs for any other reason, that still reflects on me. Jun Wu is the one who gave me a chance, after all.” 

Hua Cheng grimaces, but Xie Lian shrugs. “I’m not worried about that though, I think we did a good job. You never answered my question, though—are you doing anything after this?” 

“I have a few projects lined up, depending on what interests me,” Hua Cheng says with a careless shrug. Then the corners of his mouth tilt upward. “But I don’t know what I’m going to do if I can’t see your beautiful face every day.” 

Xie Lian’s so-called “beautiful face” must be bright red right now. “Hua Cheng, don’t tease!” he huffs, bumping his shoulder. Hua Cheng only chuckles a low, delicious sound. “But if we’ll both be in LA for a while, maybe we could… meet up?” 

He darts a glance over toward Hua Cheng and finds that gaze fixed on him, with one of Hua Cheng’s eyebrows raised. 

“As long as you’re not busy,” he amends, beginning to feel rather foolish. 

The look smooths away into a smile. “I’d be happy to spend time with you,” Hua Cheng says. 

“Then, coffee? Later this week? That cafe where we met,” Xie Lian suggests. 

Hua Cheng’s smile is stabbing his heart. “It’s a date.” 

Downtown Los Angeles - Essayist Agency - March 31st, 2019 10:00 AM

“I have auditions for you,” Ling Wen tells him as Xie Lian settles himself at her desk. 

Xie Lian blinks in surprise. “You do?” 

“Nothing as fancy as Jun Wu’s, of course, but word has gotten around enough that people are willing to take the risk. I’m sending you out to more of these than usual. I don’t expect a call back on most of them, but if you’re out there behaving yourself at auditions, word will spread further.” 

She slides a stack of papers toward him, and Xie Lian begins to thumb through— advance copies of scripts, call listings, and more. There’s more than he expected, even with what he’s sure Ling Wen has weeded out.

Even if he isn’t quite an A-list actor any more—yet?—it’s enough work to make a living by. It’s more work than he expected, stepping back into Ling Wen’s office. He’s grateful for it. 

“Okay,” he says, pulling his chair forward. He’s made it. Every little step he takes from here on out is reaffirming this new beginning, putting a bit more time between him and the past. “Let’s go over it.” 

Ling Wen lays a hand over his, drawing Xie Lian’s attention up to her. “You have to understand,” she says. “I’m not telling you to quit your day job.” 

“Er—” Xie Lian says. “I. You mean, look for a job in case these don’t work out?” 

Ling Wen nods. “It’s still a while before God of Misfortune goes to theaters,” she says. “In the meantime, you won’t be guaranteed anything just because you’ve gotten a few auditions. Find somewhere to work in the meantime. Don’t burn your bridges just yet.” 

Xie Lian winces. It’s solid advice, but he wishes she didn’t think it was necessary to give to him. “I know,” he says. “I’m not expecting anything, not yet. We’ll just wait and see.” 

“Good.” Ling Wen nods and quickly withdraws her hand. “Now, take a look at those and tell me what you think.” 

Downtown Los Angeles - The Fox Cafe - 12:03 PM

The little coffee shop is just as Xie Lian remembers it, a cozy little corner of a building with lots of booths and tables. The only thing that’s different is the weather, which is gray and threatening rain. By the time Xie Lian finishes locking his bike and steps inside, his fingers are clammy from the chill in the air, and he’s ready for something warm. 

He’s twenty minutes early, so he doesn’t expect to see Hua Cheng for some time, but a flash of red catches his eye the moment he glances around the shop. Sure enough, Hua Cheng is at one of the tables along the window, his head bent over a notebook. Butterflies begin swarming in Xie Lian’s stomach. 

It might not be a date, he reminds himself. Hua Cheng might have been joking.

It doesn’t stop him from walking straight over to the table. 

“Is this seat taken?” Xie Lian asks and smiles when Hua Cheng’s head rises. 

“You’re early,” Hua Cheng observes, sweeping his pencils away from the table as Xie Lian takes a seat. 

“So are you.” Xie Lian leans forward, peering at Hua Cheng’s open page. “What are you working on this time?” 

Hua Cheng slides the notebook toward him. “Not much of a secret, this time. Here.” 

There are two drawings side by side, mostly outlines, but the costumes on them are form-fitting and covered with dynamic, sweeping lines in primary colors.

“Is this for one of those comic book movies?” Xie Lian asks, poking at the page. “It looks like a superhero.” 

“That’s right. I’ve done a few of them already. It’s mostly figuring out how to take a ridiculous drawing and turn it into something that would look impressive on a living person,” Hua Cheng says with a shrug. “There are so many jumpsuits. To be honest, I was glad to work with some regular clothes for once.” 

“It can’t be worse than Xianxia outfits,” Xie Lian chuckles. “Between the hairpieces and the robes, those things are impossible.” 

“Maybe you should work in a superhero movie next, so you have something to compare,” Hua Cheng says with an arched eyebrow. 

“I don’t think they’d find me very useful,” Xie Lian says, shaking his head. 

“Don’t you do all your own stunts?” 

“Well, yes, but where did you find out about that?” 

Hua Cheng’s smile is wide and pleased. “I’ve heard it around, here and there. Didn’t I tell you that you’re my favorite actor? Of course I’m going to find out all the details of your career.” 

Xie Lian shakes his head. “When you put it like that, it’s almost like I’m still famous. I’m going to get a drink— do you want anything?” 

He comes back with a hot chocolate and an absurdly complicated coffee, along with another of the croissants he got the first time he visited. 

“So, Hua Cheng,” he asks, sliding the drink across the table and into Hua Cheng’s waiting hands. “I don’t actually know much of what you do outside of work.” 

“You’ve seen my house,” Hua Cheng points out, and Xie Lian shrugs. 

“Sure, but I was distracted for a lot of that. And that doesn’t tell me everything! Are you seeing anyone? What do you like to do when you’re not working?” 

“No. I’m not interested in dating just anyone right now,” Hua Cheng says mildly, taking a sip of his drink. 

Xie Lian knows he shouldn’t have asked that question. What kind of answer to that could he possibly want to hear? If it’s yes, he has to live knowing Hua Cheng has some other special someone. If it’s no, then he has to face the reality of his feelings. 

This answer is somehow a bit of both in a way that makes Xie Lian stare down at his own mug and turn it around and around in his hands, quietly and carefully. Then he shakes his head and musters himself to smile. “Okay! Right. Then what about the rest?”

Hua Cheng shrugs. “A career like this is demanding. Most of my acquaintances are involved in it as well. But I have my haunts.” 

“Your haunts?” 

“Places like this,” Hua Cheng says, gesturing around them at the cafe. “A few bars. It’s surprisingly easy to find gems around here if you’re not looking for the most expensive drinks in the city.” 

Xie Lian smiles. “Or if you don’t have a famous face?” he asks. 

Hua Cheng, thankfully, takes this comment with the humor it was intended. Xie Lian can’t help but smile a little more when it makes Hua Cheng snicker. 

“Or that,” he agrees. “Not that people shouldn’t know me…” 

“They do, you know,” Xie Lian says. 

Hua Cheng pauses, his cup halfway to his lips. “Hm?” 

“They do know you. Ling Wen told me a bit about you before we met. I hadn’t heard of all of the films, of course, but even someone living under a rock like me could tell that you’ve been successful. And Shi Qingxuan knew you by reputation.” 

Hua Cheng hums again and sets his mug slowly down. “And what do you think of that?” 

“I think it’s impressive,” Xie Lian admits. “Even if it’s a bit of a fearsome reputation, you’re clearly respected. But more than that, I’m glad I got the chance to work with you instead of just hearing the rumors. You’re even more impressive than I’d ever been told, Hua Cheng.” 

“You’re really too kind,” Hua Cheng said, tucking his loose hair casually behind one ear. “I could say the same, you know.” 

“Please don’t,” Xie Lian says quickly. “I couldn’t take it. And really, I’m hardly famous.” 

“You were,” Hua Cheng says. “And you will be again. This is going to be an amazing movie, anyone can see that. Besides, I’ve already told you—you’re my favorite actor.” 

“I really don’t know about that,” Xie Lian says weakly, but Hua Cheng shakes his head and leans forward. His eye is unusually intense, and the usual casual grace he wears so well is gone in favor of surprising intensity. 

“I do mean it,” he says. He reaches out to touch Xie Lian’s hand. Even the gentle touch of fingers against his knuckles makes his mouth dry. He can’t look away. “I remembered how you looked in every single film I saw. The first time I saw Split the Sun , I watched it five times. I had never seen anything so amazing. I wanted to…” 

Hua Cheng glances away then. Xie Lian swallows. This is a feeling he remembers, this uncomfortably full feeling of knowing that he has touched someone’s life. He wishes it didn’t seem so hard on Hua Cheng. He wishes his career hadn’t gone the way it did. But then again… if he’d never taken those breaks, would they have met to work on this film? 

Xie Lian reaches out, rests his hand over Hua Cheng’s. Hua Cheng startles into looking up at him, then smiles faintly when Xie Lian gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad I helped,” he says. “Though maybe also that we didn’t meet at the time. I think my arrogance would have broken the illusion for you.”

Hua Cheng smiles. “I don’t think so,” he says with a wink. Then he laughs, and Xie Lian breaks down in giggles too.  

Celestial Array Website (News) - God of Misfortune Movie Poster Released - May 5th, 2019 1:00 PM

Check Out This Dramatic Poster for Jun Wu’s Latest Movie!

By Samantha Hua

Movie posters, teasers, and other sneak peeks may be a dying art, but someone certainly forgot to tell Jun Wu and his team at XianXia Studios that. Just check out this lineup for his latest movie, God of Misfortune.  

Jun Wu has built his career on action films, mainly action films inspired by Chinese cinema. The first references most people think of when trying to describe Jun Wu’s works are Jackie Chan and Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon. However, he’s made his name in modernizing those concepts for an American audience and working with primarily Asian-American casts, and both facts stand out on these posters. 

The heightened shadows and highlights, the dramatic poses, the font choice— all of these details live up to the very ambitious name of the film! With a title like God of Misfortune, any moviegoer would be forgiven for expecting something of Jun Wu’s usual action-packed fare. 

But Jun Wu has said in interviews that he’s looking to make a more grounded, realistic story in this movie. “God of Misfortune isn’t a story about action or adventure,” he told Celestial Array when the film was first announced. “It’s a story about people fighting, not physically, but mentally. It’s a story about the people who slip through the cracks. I hope to do it justice.” 

For strong words like that, his casting choices have certainly stirred up controversy. It began with the announcement of Xie Lian’s casting as the lead actor. Xie Lian has had a contentious career and quite a lot of history with Jun Wu himself. He also hasn’t been seen in Hollywood in years. Further complicating this was the announcement of supporting actors Mu Qing and Feng Xin, two other actors who have been known to fight on set when working together, and who have their own adverse history with Xie Lian. Finally, co-lead Shi Qingxuan, while an amazing actor in their own right, has never been known to act beyond light-hearted comedy and supporting drama roles and has faced their own bad press. Their brother Shi Wudu has recently come under fire for corruption in the movie industry, and their ability to get this role has been suggested to be nepotism, considering the close professional ties between Jun Wu and Shi Wudu. 

Still, if these movie posters are any sign, there may be reason to hope! Thanks to some superb composition, the posters are surprisingly packed with hints about the details of this movie. 

For example, the poster featuring Xie Lian pictures him sitting in an alleyway, on top of a heap of black garbage bags. There are a few telling items hidden among these trash bags, including what looks like an eviction notice, a court summons, and a handgun. The doorway that Shi Qingxuan is sitting in is, according to some reporting, a known homeless shelter for LGBT youths, with windows shattered. Feng Xin’s poster shows him rolling up his sleeve in preparation to punch, but the broken glass on the ground appears to be the remains of needles, and Mu Qing’s poster, if you look closely, has him not only bent over in despair but from wearing handcuffs. 

What does this mean for God of Misfortune? Well, it’s too early to say much about how the movie will turn out, but from these posters, it looks like a lot is going on.

Twitter - Messages - August 25th, 2019 1:15 PM

But really! what other movies have you worked on?

There are a lot. Too many to list that easily. Maybe you should guess instead, Xie Lian

That’s hardly fair! You know I haven’t watched many movies. 

How about this? There’s a movie I’ve worked on coming out right now. 

Try and guess which one it is. 

What do I get if I win?

you can go see the movie with me. 

And if I lose?

hmm…. If he loses, Gege has to go see the movie with me. 😉

This seems rigged, Hua Cheng.

no idea what you mean

(🤞)

Now it really seems rigged!!! Hua Cheng

In any case, I accept! 

I guess this means… we should go to a theater, and I’ll guess from the posters there? 

Doing advance research is cheating. I’m putting this rule into effect now. 

no, it’s not that…

I’m just not sure how to figure out what’s in theaters otherwise.

Maybe I should go find a newspaper

…

You don’t have to do that. I’ll meet you there. 

Wait, Hua Cheng?

If you want to go and see a movie with me, who am I to deny you? 

I

Okay!!! It’s a date. Which theater?

😊

Downtown Los Angeles - Outside the Alamo Drafthouse Theater - 2:30 PM

Xie Lian bikes to the theater. 

It takes a while, as riding on the streets is always dangerous, but it’s easier than taking a taxi or bus. He and Hua Cheng agreed to meet there around two o’clock so that Xie Lian could make his guess before they proceeded to the movie. 

He’s a little nervous, to be honest about it, as he approaches the theater. Not of spending time together, because Hua Cheng is always easy to talk to, but that he might offend Hua Cheng by not being able to guess correctly. He knows that Shi Qingxuan would consider offending Hua Cheng a terrifying possibility. Even Mu Qing and Feng Xin, though they would probably both protest it, seem to be wary of him. Shi Qingxuan considers the incident to be very salacious gossip, though they don’t seem to want to earn Mu Qing and Feng Xin’s ire by telling the story to Xie Lian. 

Maybe he’ll just guess the most complicated-looking costumes if he can’t figure it out any other way. It may not be any more correct than the others, but flattering Hua Cheng in the process can’t go amiss. 

Of course, it turns out he doesn’t need to worry. He sees the poster as soon as he pulls up in front of the building. 

It’s impossible to miss and undeniably gorgeous. The woman taking up most of the poster is wearing an elegant maroon dress that immediately catches the eye. Xie Lian can’t quite tell what the poster is about, though it looks like one of the space adventure films that has grown so popular recently. 

Then he finds the bike rack, and Hua Cheng standing next to it. 

“There you are,” Hua Cheng says as Xie Lian pulls up and hauls his bike up to lock it. “How was your ride?” 

“Oh, you know,” Xie Lian says with a shrug. His hair and clothing must be disheveled from the ride over, but Hua Cheng has seen him in less flattering states thanks to filming. He combs fingers casually through his hair, then pulls away. “What made you get here so early?” 

“I had to buy our tickets, of course,” Hua Cheng says. 

Xie Lian blinks. “Ah… Hua Cheng, you didn’t have to!” 

“I know,” Hua Cheng says with a casual shrug, “but I am the one who invited you out. It’s no trouble to repay you for humoring me like this.” 

“It’s not humoring you,” Xie Lian says, but Hua Cheng only shrugs. 

“And it’s not troubling me, either. Now, do you want to see the posters?” 

Now, Xie Lian has cause to smile. “Actually,” he says, “I have a guess.” 

“Oh?” Hua Cheng’s eyebrow raises. 

“Yes.” Xie Lian nods and pulls Hua Cheng along, leading him to the poster. He gestures at the entirety of the image. “This one?” 

“Hm,” says Hua Cheng, looking at the poster. 

Xie Lian smiles. “I’m right, aren’t I? You really will have to use those tickets after all.” 

This time, Hua Cheng’s lips twitch. “I suppose that was the agreement,” he says. “How is it that you can tell?” 

“It was chance that I spotted the poster,” Xie Lian admits. “But the way everything looks, it all reminds me of the things you said when I got my first fitting. Do you remember?” He gestures to the picture. “You were talking about butterfly wings. The dress just… reminded me of that, I suppose.” 

“That does sound like something I would say,” Hua Cheng agrees dryly. “In fact, you could say it’s something of my signature. When directors allow me to get away with it, that is.” 

“I think it looks wonderful,” Xie Lian says honestly. He finds it more accurate the more he gets to examine the costume. It must be a work of art in person, but also the poster makes it look incredibly lovely, gauzy and light in a way that Xie Lian is learning to associate with Hua Cheng’s particular talents. 

Xie Lian has learned, over time, to differentiate expensive from economic from cheap out of necessity, but he’s never had much of an eye for fashion. He can accept his own failings in that regard— he’s always relied on others to keep him from owning five different versions of the same sweatshirt and little else. This, however, he can see the sheer elegance and personality of with just a glance.  

“Hm,” Hua Cheng says, rather neutrally. “We’ll see what your opinion of the rest of the movie is, then.” 

“The rest of—?” 

Oh, right. 

“Well then, let’s go,” Xie Lian suggests, taking Hua Cheng’s arm to begin leading him toward the doorway. “We wouldn’t want to miss the showing you already paid for.” 

Hua Cheng follows quickly after Xie Lian’s tugging lead, though as soon as they pass through the doors, they switch positions, with Hua Cheng extracting his arm from Xie Lian’s grasp only to take him gently by the elbow and start to tug him along. Xie Lian expects to be led in the direction of the ticket-taker but is surprised instead to be led off towards the concession stand. 

“Ah, Hua Cheng, why are we…?” Xie Lian asks. 

Hua Cheng turns back towards him and raises an eyebrow. “We are about to go see a movie,” he says. “Don’t you want anything?” 

“Well, I’m fine without any snacks,” Xie Lian says quickly. “These things are always a bit overpriced, aren’t they?” 

“Hm?” Hua Cheng glances up at the prices, then shrugs. “I suppose. It can be my treat, then.” 

“That isn’t really what I mean…” Xie Lian says, but Hua Cheng shrugs. 

“I am getting popcorn,” he says, already reaching out for one of the pre-prepared bags. “And I will be getting candy and a drink. And you will be sharing them with me, so you might as well tell me what you like.” 

“Really, Hua Cheng, you don’t need to have all that just to watch a movie, right?” 

Hua Cheng shrugs. “No,” he says. “But isn’t it part of the movie-going experience? If you want to, you should enjoy things now and then. I can afford it, and you’re with me, so you can afford it too. When I was a child, I always wanted to have snacks when I went to the movies. Now I can, so I do.” 

“You’re not worried about it being unhealthy?” Xie Lian asked. 

Hua Cheng laughs. “It’s not all the time,” he says pragmatically. “Why not make a special occasion feel this way?” 

“Is this a special occasion?” Xie Lian asks, but he feels like he already knows the answer to that. Of course this is a special occasion. Getting to spend time with Hua Cheng… It’s the kind of thing he’d never expected, but it’s immediately become one of his favorite ways to spend his time, a breath of fresh air in between his warehouse job and looking after Ruoye and the constant grind of auditions. Hua Cheng has gotten closer to him in a few short months than anyone really had in years. 

Is it just because Hua Cheng was still his fan even when no one else remembered who he was? Xie Lian bites his lip at the thought. He doesn’t think so. Hua Cheng doesn’t seem like the type to cozy up to a star just to bask in their fame. He wouldn’t make it far in Hollywood if he did. And besides, Xie Lian isn’t really famous anymore. 

Maybe…

Xie Lian remembers sitting on a concrete step in the dying light of the day. Maybe it’s as simple as that— Hua Cheng understands something about Xie Lian that no one else in Hollywood seems able to. Maybe it’s something that no one else in Hollywood really can . 

“I think so,” Hua Cheng says. He’s still lighthearted about it, passing over Xie Lian’s sudden contemplative mood. “After all, I convinced you to come with me to the movies.” 

That’s enough to make Xie Lian blush. “Hua Cheng!” he scolds. “That doesn’t mean it’s a special occasion.” 

“You’re the one who never goes out to the movies or checks the news,” Hua Cheng counters, leading them up to the register. He taps at his watch— Xie Lian watches, baffled, as the concierge seems to take that as some kind of payment. Ah, technology has really escaped him!— and accepts a cup as it’s handed to him. “So if you’re coming here it really is a special occasion. So! What kind of soda would you like?” 

“You really aren’t going to take no for an answer, are you?” Xie Lian says, shaking his head. But he shakes his head and looks at the machines, these too covered with fancy touch-screens. It seems a far cry from the theaters he remembers. It really has been a long time since he bothered with things like this. “Do you think they have seltzer?”

“I suppose they must,” Hua Cheng says, shaking his head like Xie Lian has given him an answer that disappoints him, but that he expected. “But you’re welcome to share my soda instead.” 

A soda sounds far too sweet for Xie Lian’s tastes, but the casual offer warms him, and Xie Lian smiles at Hua Cheng even as he takes the cup. It takes some hunting through the menus, and he isn’t able to find quite what he wants, but with Hua Cheng’s help, he can eventually settle on something that isn’t too sweet. 

The more they go through the movie theater, the more he sees that they really have changed since the last time Xie Lian had the chance to visit. He remembers sitting in theaters as a child, and none of them seemed quite so grand as this. Certainly, there were none of these large, comfortable reclining armchairs with their individual controls. He thinks he remembers the floors being much stickier, as well. But the screens seem larger, the sounds louder as well, and everything is just… designed more to impress. It doesn’t quite stand up to some of the red carpet screenings he’s gone to, of course, but it’s much nicer than he expected, even if most of it is simply glitter on top of the same frame. 

Xie Lian tries to hold off on the popcorn too, but Hua Cheng insists on handing the bag to him to hold, and from there, it’s easy to just pick up a few pieces and eat, as the previews start. Hua Cheng has a lot of commentary on the previews and advertisements that never fail to make Xie Lian laugh. Some of it is about who worked on what film and their levels of competence, of course. But some of it is just fun. He makes Xie Lian nearly choke laughing by predicting the dialogue of three trailers in a row in his wry way that proves hysterical. 

Just as engaging as Hua Cheng’s voice, however, is Hua Cheng’s presence. With the broad arms of the seats, they’re not quite in danger of bumping elbows, but every time Hua Cheng reaches over to take some popcorn, Xie Lian finds himself aware of how close they are. How easily they might accidentally bump fingers. 

He is very careful with his hands, after that. 

When the movie starts, Xie Lian can’t help but give Hua Cheng a beaming smile, and Hua Cheng gives him a small grin back, then nods towards the screen. 

It’s very much the kind of movie Xie Lian used to act in, a movie like Split the Sun was; all flashy and quippy and very dramatic and a little fantastical. Xie Lian can follow along with the story easily enough, but he finds himself distracted by the designs. He’s looking at all of the costumes, trying to puzzle them over from Hua Cheng’s point of view. How did he decide what colors to use? What materials? Are they real metal, or are they plastic? And more than that, he catches the motion of it, the rippling of the beautiful dress. Did they have to do multiple takes for that, or was there some method they used to ensure the dress moved precisely as they wanted it to? He has so many questions about it all, and it’s only the quiet theater around them that keeps him from turning and asking all of them. 

Otherwise, it’s an okay movie. Xie Lian can watch it enough for the spectacle and not focus too much on the craft of it, which he remembers being his problem in watching films before. Maybe it’s just been long enough that he’s able to distract his critical eye, or perhaps having a new perspective makes it easier for the film to keep his interest. It certainly helps him take his mind off the flashing of the lights and the overly-loud sounds of the theater.

By the time the credits roll, Xie Lian finds himself blinking a little and feeling stolen out of time. He and Hua Cheng dispose of their containers in silence and emerge, blinking, into the sun once again. The heat of the day washes over Xie Lian like a heavy blanket, a welcome warmth after the chill of the theater raised gooseflesh on his arms. 

Hua Cheng stretches, his hands up over his head, a gesture that makes his shirt ride up ever so slightly. Xie Lian flushes and turns away, feeling the heat of the day in a sudden rush. 

“So,” Hua Cheng asks. “What did you think?” 

“I can see how you took Split the Sun as inspiration,” Xie Lian answers honestly. “The costumes move the same way, I think. Especially in the slow-motion shots.” 

Hua Cheng smiles. “I’m glad you spotted that,” he says, stretching his arms out in front of him this time. “Most people are surprised when I mention my influences. But you’re right, it comes through most clearly in the motions on camera. Obviously, I’m not in charge of cinematography, but I try to think of those things when I’m designing. So whether it’s a taffeta evening gown or traditional hanfu, the effect can be similar even if the pattern is completely different.” 

“Like a butterfly,” Xie Lian says, remembering the pictures in Hua Cheng’s studio. 

“Exactly,” Hua Cheng says with a nod. “But what about the rest of the film? Surely you had thoughts on that?” 

“A few,” Xie Lian says, flushing. He tugs at his hair, trying to pull it away from his face for lack of anything better to do. “I was mostly interested in the work you did, though.” 

Hua Cheng’s smile is Cheshire-cat wide. “Well,” he says. “I’m afraid the rest of my work isn’t in theaters anymore, but we’ll have to arrange for you to see it sometime.” 

The flush feels like a permanent fixture on his face, by this point. “Did you mean stopping by your workshop again?” he asks. “Not that I wouldn’t enjoy working with you again…” 

“That can be arranged, I’m sure,” Hua Cheng says, “but I have the original sketches still at home if you’d prefer. And we can always watch the movies, as well.” 

“Do you have the original sketches for this one, too?” Xie Lian asks before he can stop himself. Hua Cheng nods, and Xie Lian pauses, biting his lip. “Then, should we go and see those now?” 

“Of course,” Hua Cheng says immediately. For a moment, Xie Lian can see a flash of relief. Is he just as glad as Xie Lian is to have a reason not to part? No, it’s best for Xie Lian not to think of it that way. He’s pleased to have the opportunity to deepen their friendship. 

It turns out that Hua Cheng also biked here, so they make their way carefully through the streets of L.A. and up to Hua Cheng’s apartment. By the time they arrive, the warmth has become full-on heat again, so entering Hua Cheng’s air-conditioned building is a blessing, though Hua Cheng doesn’t seem at all affected by the changes in temperature. 

“Watch out for E-Ming,” he reminds Xie Lian as they step inside, but Xie Lian is already kneeling down to greet the cat running towards the door. “Hello,” he croons, scratching the little black cat. “How lovely to see you again, E-Ming.” 

“He’s a pest,” Hua Cheng warns as he closes the door. “Let me dig out the pictures.” 

“I’m still sure that’s not true,” Xie Lian says, and devotes his attention to petting E-Ming until he vibrates with his purrs. Then he gets up and wanders further into the house. It’s incredible to him that he’s been to Hua Cheng’s apartment enough to find it familiar, and it makes him feel a little guilty that Hua Cheng is familiar with his own in passing. It’s nowhere near as beautiful, though it’s enough for him, at the moment, to have a place to sleep and to make food and a roof over his head. If he’s honest, he can’t imagine finding a flat like this for himself in L.A. again, not when he knows what it’s like not to have a place to live. His current apartment might not be especially modern, beautiful or efficient, but it suits him. 

Though he could see himself spending time with Hua Cheng here. That’s a thought that he holds very, very close to his chest. 

By the time he wanders into the living room, E-Ming at his heels, Hua Cheng has pulled out a sketchbook and laid it on the table. “Ah, there you are,” he says as he waves Xie Lian over. “I’ve found several sets of sketches.” 

Xie Lian sits on the couch, where E-Ming jumps up next to him within comfortable petting range. Xie Lian leans over to look at the various pages that Hua Cheng has spread across the low table and gasps. “Hua Cheng, these are gorgeous!” 

Hua Cheng smiles. “The first sketch is always as extravagant as I can make it,” he says, clearly amused if the glint in his eye is any indication. “It is what I would make, if time, money, and the nature of fabrics weren’t any sort of constraint. Then, once I’ve shown that to the director, I begin to refine it, make notes about fabrics, that sort of thing.” 

Whereas the first page of sketches that Hua Cheng showed him was simply a gorgeous drawing of a silhouetted figure in a dress, the next page is almost more notes than drawing. Arrows are going all over the page, from little paragraphs to parts of the outfit, and there are miniature sketches, with notes that Xie Lian can’t quite understand about stitching and fabric textures and thicknesses. Hua Cheng points them out one by one. 

“At this point, I had an idea of what the required stunts would be, so I was able to take into consideration what I would need to allow for in the design. So I hemmed the dress high enough not to catch on any shoes while running, and I kept the weighting in the hem cumbersome enough that it wouldn’t be painful to smack into anyone’s shin. That’s easy enough, with a light fabric like this. The real trick is making sure that it’s distributed evenly enough that it doesn’t show up. It’s a loose skirt, too, so I didn’t have to worry about any restricted movement. The light, loose sleeves allow some protective padding to be hidden under them for the stunts.” 

“I know how much thought you put into this sort of thing, but it’s still amazing to hear,” Xie Lian says, touching one of the swatches of fabric stapled to the paper. It feels pleasantly textured, light, and flowy under his fingers. 

Hua Cheng only shrugs. “As I’ve said, it’s my job. And in movies like that one, protection is important for the main actors and their stunt doubles. If in my design choices can prevent that sort of injury, why shouldn’t I?” 

“I’m sure you’ve had directors who have fought you on that, though?” Xie Lian asks, looking down at the design. 

Hua Cheng scowls. “Of course. And there are plenty of executives who don’t understand what they’re asking or why things can’t just be re-shot with this outfit instead of the other one. But I’ve worked on some impressive projects, as well. And some, like God of Misfortune, don’t require too much thought in that department, but just pure aesthetics.” 

“Will you show me one like that?” Xie Lian asks, still paging through the drawings. There are so many of them, and as he progresses through additional sketches for each design, he can recognize it more and more from what he just saw on the screen. It’s fascinating, seeing the pieces that stay the same and the ones that change as the design is reworked. 

“I’ll save one for the next time we meet,” Hua Cheng says with a smile as he collects all the papers to put away. “I wouldn’t want to run out of reasons to spend time with you too quickly.”

Downtown Los Angeles - Essayist Agency - October 14th, 2019, 2:00 PM. 

Spring stretches into summer stretches into fall, which begins slowly to edge as close to winter as California ever gets. It’s chilly for Los Angeles, which means that Xie Lian occasionally finds himself wishing for a jacket when he bikes to work for an early shift. He tries not to turn on the heat in his apartment, wary of spending too much money. Filing for bankruptcy may have canceled out the debts his parents left him, but it means Xie Lian can’t count on the royalties for his past movies for some years yet. And Ling Wen may have negotiated a very reasonable contract for him with advance payment, but what he makes still depends on what the film makes. He can’t count on there being money coming in after it, especially when none of his auditions have resulted in a callback. So he works his day job, he tries to save his money, and he waits for life to move on. 

It’s easier than he expected. Now that filming is done, he doesn’t exactly talk to Jun Wu, Mu Qing, or Feng Xin, but Shi Qingxuan has remained surprisingly invested in staying in contact. They text him every so often to drag him out to this party or that restaurant, or even just to send him silly pictures. It feels like the most comfortable thing in the world. Xie Lian is incredibly grateful. 

He’s also grateful for Hua Cheng, who doesn’t seem to be running out of reasons to spend time with him at all. They meet at the cafe regularly now. Hua Cheng drags him out to movies. Hua Cheng shares more memes with Xie Lian, and Xie Lian tries to find ones among the few that Shi Qingxuan has sent him that Hua Cheng might not know about (it’s difficult, but he manages it occasionally. One time he startled a full-on snorting laugh out of Hua Cheng by saying “mood” in the middle of a work rant of Hua Cheng’s). They trade pictures of their cats. Hua Cheng talks Xie Lian through a terrifying night of thinking that Ruoye has eaten soap. Xie Lian visits Hua Cheng’s apartment occasionally. 

He’s too nervous to invite Hua Cheng over to his own house. It’s too shabby for guests, and seeing him here will bring up questions that he’s not sure how to answer yet. He gets the feeling that Hua Cheng knows, or at least suspects, how his years of “retirement” have treated him, but it’s still hard for him to think about. In the months since filming wrapped on God of Misfortune , he’s been able to shove all those unpleasant memories back into a box and ignore them again. He doesn’t mind. 

Maybe it’s because of this that it comes as a surprise when Ling Wen tells him about the press tour. 

“To generate buzz for the film, the studio is sending you to several talk shows, radio shows, and so on,” Ling Wen tells him one day in her office. She hands him a piece of paper. Xie Lian just stares at the list of dates and locations. It seems like there are too many. 

“And they’re sending me?” Xie Lian asks weakly. 

“You are the star of the film,” Ling Wen says. “Do you have conflicts with any of these dates? Most of them will be in the Los Angeles area, but there are several interviews scheduled for before and after the film’s release that will involve travel. In preparation for awards season, of course.” 

“I…” Xie Lian stares at the paper, trying hard to remember. He can’t think of anything on his schedule right now, even though he’s sure he has work, at the very least. “They don’t think I’m too… controversial?” 

“You are very controversial,” Ling Wen agrees. Her voice is very bland as she says this, like she knows just how much of an understatement that is. “But you also haven’t done many interviews since you were signed on as the lead for this film. It seems like they’re willing to take the risk that your presence will draw buzz for this film.” 

“Buzz of any kind, huh?” Xie Lian mutters to himself under his breath. When Ling Wen gives him a questioning look, he only shakes his head. “Never mind. Okay. Press tours. I’m not going to talk to them about what I’ve been doing the past few years. Even if they ask.” 

Ling Wen purses her lips. “So noted,” she says, typing something into her computer. “Now, for the things they do want you to talk about...” 

Greater Los Angeles Area - Xie Lian’s Apartment - November 28th, 2019 3:00 AM

Xie Lian wakes up at three AM on the morning of his flight. 

For a few moments, he stares at his clock, wondering if it would be worth it to try and go back to sleep. In the end, he rolls out of bed. It’s only a few hours before he has to leave, and maybe if he gets up now, he’ll be tired enough to rest on the flight. 

So he works his way through stretches and exercise, only forgoing his usual run because of the hour. It’s cold here in the early hours of the morning, and even the sound of traffic has died down. It feels a little bit like being the only person in the world. 

Maybe it should be lonely, but Xie Lian appreciates the quiet. It feels like the last moments of real rest he’ll get for the next few weeks. Maybe ever. If Ling Wen is truthful about the buzz these press tour interviews are generating, anonymity will be a dream of the past. 

For now, he finishes up his exercises and begins to shower. All of his luggage is carefully packed, but he double-checks it anyway. There’s not much to bring, though he suspects Shi Qingxuan will have packed extras for him because they don’t consider Xie Lian’s choices of a few sets of clothes and his toiletries enough. And Mu Qing and Feng Xin… Xie Lian hasn’t been on a press tour with them in a long time. They’re sure to be asked about their working relationship and Xie Lian about everything… 

Xie Lian steps out of the shower and pulls on a towel. He stops in the bedroom, to find his phone still lying on his bed, screen dark. Biting his lip, he taps at the screen to bring it to life. There are no messages— his fellow actors are sure to be getting as much sleep in before their own flights, and Hua Cheng’s work will keep him here in L.A. 

Xie Lian pulls up the most recent message from Hua Cheng— a picture of Ruoye and E-Ming chasing each other around his apartment, captioned ‘they’re getting along perfectly.’

Xie Lian smiles down at it and sinks onto his bed, ignoring the way his hair drips against his T-shirt. He wishes, suddenly, that he had a picture of Hua Cheng on his phone. It would be nice to see his face right about now. 

Instead, Xie Lian types out a quick message. 

XL: Woke up earlier than I meant to for my flight… wish me luck! 

He sets it down again, ready to towel his hair properly dry, when the phone pings at him. He picks it up again and opens it to find a message awaiting him. 

HC: Good luck, though I know you won’t need it. You’re very prepared. 

XL: Hua Cheng! I didn’t wake you, did I? I’m sorry! It’s too early! Go back to sleep!

HC: I often stay up late to work. 

HC: And I couldn’t miss the opportunity to wish you a pleasant flight. 😉

XL: I told you, it’s not late, it’s early! 

HC: It’s too early to be early yet, and you’re awake, aren’t you? 

XL: …

XL: Well, thank you. It’s too bad you can’t come with us on this trip, Hua Cheng. I think you would be very good at giving interviews. 

HC: I’m banned, actually. 

XL: What? 

HC: From giving interviews. 

XL: How? 

HC: I simply comment on how the acting crew and the producers treat their film staff, that’s all. But studios don’t like things like that coming out in interviews. So they don’t let me very often. 

XL: That’s… terrible, Hua Cheng, I’m sorry. 

HC: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ There’s always twitter. And I’m too good for them to fire me. 

XL: Ahaha, you’re fearless. You always speak your mind, don’t you? 

XL: I wish I could be that brave. 

HC: You’re plenty brave 

HC: You’re the bravest person I know. 

XL: Thank you. I just wish… There are a lot of things I wish I could say, but things are very tenuous now. I’m not sure if it would do any good for me to say them. 

HC: Do you feel strongly about them? 

XL: Yes. 

XL: I think I do. I’ve been thinking about them for a long time. 

HC: Then you should say them. Even if it’s frightening, the people who respect you, who see how good you are, will listen. 

XL: … I think I will. 

XL: Maybe not now, but eventually.

XL: Thank you, Hua Cheng. 

XL: I’ll think of it as being like you. 

HC: It’s easier to give that advice than to live it, but I promise— if you do it, then I will too. 

XL: Hua Cheng?

HC: Never mind. I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?

XL: Oh! It’s getting close to time. I should get dressed and let you get some sleep. 

HC: Again, have a safe flight, Xie Lian. I look forward to seeing your interviews. 

Xie Lian smiles down at his phone. The bubbly feeling in his stomach has died down, the nervous energy replaced by something warmer. Hua Cheng is right, he thinks. And he’s pretty sure Hua Cheng will understand when he eventually says it. Hua Cheng has opened up about his own past, hasn’t he? He’ll get it, even if no one else does. 

And as for the other thing he wants to say…

Xie Lian buries his head in his towel and rubs vigorously, trying to ignore the heated feeling in his cheeks. He won’t see Hua Cheng for a few weeks. He has that long to make a decision, maybe longer. He has a feeling that he’s going to want all of it. 

Twitter - Celebrity Spotting - November 29th, 12:21 PM

Search: Xie Lian

Latest

Cinnamon Latte @coffeeismylife ᐧ 12m

[A blurry photo showing two people’s backs. Both are dressed in light-colored clothing and are wearing sunglasses]

aaah just saw this at the airport and I think??? Shi Qingxuan?????

Doyleist Readings Only @theauthorisntdead ᐧ 12m

    Replying to @coffeeismylife 

        Aaaaah!!! Lucky! 😍Who’s that next to SQX? A manager?

         Cinnamon Latte @coffeeismylife ᐧ 12m 

        Replying to @theauthorisntdead

            Aren’t they in that movie with Xie Lian that’s coming out soon? Maybe that’s him

         Cinnamon Latte @coffeeismylife ᐧ 12m 

        Replying to @theauthorisntdead

            whoever he is sqx is #fashiongoals

Doyleist Readings Only @theauthorisntdead ᐧ 12m

    Replying to @coffeeismylife  

    riiiiight. Who even manages to look that on point at the airport. Xie lian or whoever just kinda looks like a hobo next to him

Twitter - Xie Lian’s User Page - December 10th, 2019 2:21 PM

Xie Lian @fangxin ᐧ 1h

     I think I’m supposed to share this… I had another interview with Celestial Array today! Please enjoy it. 🙏

    ✨ Shi Qingxuan ✨ ☑ @theyoungershi ᐧ 20m

    Replying to @fangxin

        You forgot the link!!! Xie Lian next time just quote tweet me lol (hllps://celestial-array.com/…)

         Xie Lian @fangxin ᐧ 20m

        Replying to @theyoungershi

            How do I do that? 

     Hua Cheng ☑ @ tanhua ᐧ 40m

    Replying to @fangxin 

        I think they need to ban you from doing interviews, not me. Good work~

         Xie Lian @fangxin ᐧ 39m

        Replying to @fangxin

            Ah, Hua Cheng! You’re being mean, it wasn’t that bad, was it? 

             Hua Cheng ☑ @ tanhua ᐧ 38m

            Replying to @fangxin 

                🤔

Hua Cheng ☑ @ tanhua ᐧ 38m

    Replying to @fangxin 

        you did your best.

Xie Lian @fangxin ᐧ 38m

    Replying to @fangxin

        Thank you, I think

✨ Shi Qingxuan ✨ ☑ @theyoungershi ᐧ 20m

    Replying to @fangxin, @tanhua

        👀👀👀

     Hua Cheng ☑ @ tanhua ᐧ 38m

        Replying to @theyoungershi

            You’re half to blame for this. Mind your own business. 

Celestial Array Website (Interviews) - Xie Lian and Shi Qingxuan EXCLUSIVE: Working together, their careers, and more! - December 10th, 2019 11:00 AM

Today, Yanli is joined by actors Shi Qingxuan and Xie Lian! We’re thrilled to have these actors back with us to talk about their latest project, life on set, and more! Watch the video or read the transcript below to get exclusive details about what life was like on the set of God of Misfortune , which will be released to theaters in six days. 

TRANSCRIPT: Interview with The Celestial Array

[On set at Celestial Array, Xie Lian and Shi Qingxuan are sitting on the same couch across from Yanli. Xie Lian is wearing a rather simple white t-shirt, and Shi Qingxuan is dressed in a rather elegant jacket and is sitting casually, leaning back against the couch. Xie Lian is sitting upright with his hands resting in his lap. Yanli gives them and the cameras a little wave.]

YL: Hello, and welcome back to Celestial Array! I’m thrilled to have Shi Qingxuan and Xie Lian both here with me today. Thank you both for being here. 

XL & SQX: You’re welcome. 

YL: We have a lot to talk about this time, so let’s dive right into it, shall we? You’ve just finished working on a new film, is that right? 

SQX: That’s right. 

XL: God of Misfortune. With Director Jun. 

SQX: It’s out in… what is it, Xie Lian? A week, right? 

XL: Um… 

YL: Right, December sixteenth. There’s been a lot of buzz around this film. 

SQX: [Laughs.] A lot of buzz around us, you mean! 

YL: You two, especially, yes. This is your first time working on a film like this, isn’t it? How was that experience? 

SQX: A bit nerve-wracking, to be honest. I love the work I’ve done with television and with comedy, but I’ve wanted to branch out for a while. And this was the perfect opportunity to do so. It’s much more severe than the films I’ve done before, and working with Jun Wu, well, the stakes are very high. 

XL: I think they did a really fantastic job. 

SQX: Aww, Xie Lian. You’re sweet. Thank you. 

YL: Is there anything in particular that drew you to this role? 

SQX: Ah, this is where you angle about the gender question! [Laughing.]

YL: Is that insensitive of me? I’m sorry. 

SQX: Ah, it’s fine, it’s fine! The truth is, playing a genderqueer character was a big part of the draw for me. There aren’t a lot of chances to play a role like this and even fewer chances for an actor like me who shares the character’s identity to take them. It’s actually kind of intimidating; I felt like I had to do a lot of research going into it. But I’m happy with the way the director listened to me about the script. I think I’ve represented myself and other people like me to the best of my ability. 

YL: I’ve only seen the trailers so far, but it sounds like feedback has been positive. 

SQX: Ah, has it? Good to know! I can’t pay attention to them, honestly. I let my brother tell me when something’s doing really well or really poorly. 

YL: Gender identity isn’t the only topic that’s explored in this film, is that right? 

SQX & XL: That’s right. 

XL: A lot of the characters are struggling with identity.

SQX: Yep. For everyone in the film, that’s what draws them together. 

YL: As Qingxuan said earlier, it’s a bit more serious than the films that you two have done before, right? And the two of you come from pretty wealthy backgrounds. What was it like, preparing for a role like this? 

SQX: Well—

XL: Backgrounds aren’t everything. 

YL: Ah— Well, yes.

XL: [Leaning forward] People like to pretend, I think, that homelessness only happens to people who have somehow come to deserve it. It’s easier not to be afraid of losing everything when you feel that there’s the kind of person who that happens to, and that you’re not that kind of person. 

SQX: Xie Lian— 

XL: The thing is, it can happen to anyone if their luck turns the wrong way. It’s just that we’ve given some people a little less net and a bit more rope. And it takes a lot of luck to get back on your feet again when we try to pretend that there’s a big difference between the people who are homeless and the people who aren’t. Ignoring the problem only makes it worse, and criminalizing it—

SQX: That does come up in the film. [They reach out and tug on Xie Lian’s sleeve. He startles, then sits back.]

XL: Right. It does. 

SQX: Xie Lian gets really passionate about this role. 

XL: [Shifts in his seat and looks away. For the moment, the room is silent. Then Yanli clears her throat.]

YL: Right, well. Speaking of roles, shall we move on to talking about what it’s like on set? This was your first film working together. 

SQX: [Elbowing Xie Lian]. That’s right! And it was so much fun. 

XL: [Gives a weak smile, but nods.] Shi Qingxuan started acting while I was taking a break, so I wasn’t familiar with their work beforehand. 

SQX: Because he doesn’t watch movies! But I’d seen all of his, so I was looking forward to it. 

XL: They walked up to me very early on to say that. 

SQX: And now we’re amazing friends! It’s really cool getting to work with an industry veteran like Xie Lian. He’s such an expert. 

XL: [Shakes his head.] I was really out of practice at first. 

SQX: Maybe, but you got into it so quickly! And you were so intense, it was amazing to watch it! I was a little intimidated.

XL: You shouldn’t be. You brought a lot of energy both on set and off. It was lovely. 

SQX: [Fans their face.] Well, thank you. 

YL: That’s amazing. Xie Lian, you’ve worked with Mu Qing and Feng Xin pretty extensively, haven’t you? How was that? 

XL: Honestly, it’s been so long that it was like starting over again. We all had to figure out how to work together again, but in the end, we settled into something very comfortable. 

SQX: Those two love to bicker, but it’s really entertaining. Like an old married couple. 

XL: Would you call it that? 

SQX: Yes! 

YL: So it sounds like there wasn’t much tension on set. 

XL: There’s always an adjustment period. But I think we work well together. Everyone did a fantastic job in this movie. 

SQX: It will really tug on your heartstrings. So go watch it! December—

XL: Sixteenth?

SQX: December Sixteenth! 

Los Angeles - Hollywood Boulevard - December 16th, 2019, 6:30 PM

“Xie Lian!” 

Xie Lian has to pause outside of his car for photographs as he’s mobbed by so many flashing cameras he can barely see. There are reporters, lingering on the edges, ready to swoop in with questions as soon as they can. Xie Lian is grateful for the welcome sound of Shi Qingxuan’s voice over the clamor of the crowd. They’re waiting a few steps up the sidewalk, resplendent in a beautiful rose gold tux. 

They sling an arm around Xie Lian’s shoulder to greet him with a quick side hug, which Xie Lian returns. 

“You look wonderful,” he tells them as they step back to smooth down their suit and hair. 

“And you! I’ve seen old pictures, but you do clean up nicely. It’s such a change after all the grunge on those costumes,” they say and reach out to straighten Xie Lian’s lapels. 

His rented suit is fitted, courtesy of the studio. They paid for his ride to the movie theater, too. It still feels like a dream, or maybe like a hallucination, to be here. He has been in this world, the world of red carpets and paparazzi, for a third of his life, he reminds himself. It isn’t so strange. 

But in a way, that makes it even odder. His family isn’t here to watch this movie. Mu Qing and Feng Xin didn’t arrive with him, and they didn’t run over to greet him when he did. Xie Lian has a Reputation now, and he’s sure some of the red carpet reporters are here to ask him about that and not about God of Misfortune . 

This part is a great deal of why he left and took so long to come back. 

Shi Qingxuan nudges him in the arm and catches his eye. “Come on,” they say. “Let’s do our interviews together, shall we?” 

Xie Lian doesn’t have a chance to nod before they’re setting off down the red carpet, and he’s forced to follow. 

There are many more photographs, of course. Xie Lian catches glimpses of the other cast and crew in, and among the crowd and exchanges nods with them, but Shi Qingxuan is on a mission, it seems. They lead the two of them over to the mill of media and pick out one to approach. 

More importantly, they seem to be picking out ones to avoid. Xie Lian remembers some but not all of the logos on display on microphones, and he notices the way Shi Qingxuan deftly dodges past the TMZ one. Instead, the two of them wind up in front of a string of local and national news stations, repeating the same answers to their questions. Xie Lian is grateful to have practiced the answering, the polite smiles, on the press tour leading up to this release. It doesn’t feel quite so awkward to say now, to the row of eager microphones. 

“It’s a wonderful project,” “I have immense respect for Jun Wu as a director,” “I’m looking forward to seeing this movie in its final form,” and on and on. Each interview, he ends up being asked that inevitable question; “What brings you back to acting? Are you here to stay?” 

His answer is a non-answer, of course, and some of the reporters try and prod him further, but Xie Lian just practices his smile. “It was time to give it another try, and I’m very grateful to Director Jun for giving me a chance. I hope this is only the beginning, but of course, that depends on how things go tonight.” 

Shi Qingxuan is a blessing. They joke with the reporters, flashing dazzling smiles, and manage to maintain a constant string of witty lines. They dodge questions about their brother with admirable grace, but Xie Lian can see the tension in the set of their mouth every time they give a breezy laugh when a question hints at nepotism and say, “I hope my work can stand on its own.” 

After a few rounds of this, they make their way properly inside, and Shi Qingxuan lets out a long sigh. “There,” they say. “That’s that finished. I’m getting a drink. Do you want one?” 

“No, thank you,” Xie Lian says. “I suppose I should say my hellos. I’ll see you later?” 

“Of course! Don’t get yourself into too much trouble,” Shi Qingxuan says as they disappear into the crowd. 

Xie Lian looks around at the milling crowd. Plenty of people are collecting refreshments and food before they make their way into the theater. There are plenty of faces that he recognizes, from the set or from the past, just vaguely. There are also plenty of people who clearly know who he is. Xie Lian can feel the stares, can see the whispers as they’re passed back and forth. None of them approach him. 

He knows the reasoning for it, but he doesn’t let it force him to the edges of the reception. He makes his way through the crowd, exchanging nods and greetings with anyone who glances his way, even if they don’t return them. He thought he was past the mixed emotions after all this time, but once again, he remembers how overwhelming this all is. 

It feels like he’s walked ten years into the past. The crowd moves around him in an ebb and swell that's nearly dreamlike, and the chatter all blends together into an incomprehensible mass of noise. He is sure he should find more faces familiar, but everywhere he looks, he can’t think of names to put to the people. Some of them probably rose to fame after his career ended. He only ever kept up with movies out of professional interest while he was still acting, and he never bothered with it while he was homeless. What use did he have for an industry so corrupt, after all? 

He doesn’t regret leaving it behind for so many years, but it will make things awkward now. He’ll have to reintroduce himself to so many people and deal with their expressions as they connect him with the stories they’ve heard. He’s ready for it. If he wasn’t, he would never have come back. 

He’s just about to start hunting through the crowd for any distinctive figures when a familiar face appears in front of him. 

“Xie Lian,” Director Jun says with a smile. It brings out the faint lines at the edges of his eyes and mouth. Those lines aren’t something Xie Lian remembers from his childhood. It’s strange to see them on a man who still looks so young. In all of his memories, Jun Wu looks more like a god than a man in all of Xie Lian’s impressions of him. Even when he punched the man in the face, he never thought, in all of that, that he could actually knock him down. 

He knows better now, and he lets the memory slide away. “Director,” he says with a nod. “Congratulations.” 

“I believe you are the one I should be congratulating,” Jun Wu says. “Have you been following much of the press about the film?” 

Xie Lian shakes his head. He’s let Ling Wen take care of most of the details about the press and trailer releases. She’s happy with the amount of work it’s brought in, and he’s had a few auditions already, but aside from that, he’s left it well alone. He’s always preferred to leave his projects alone once completed so he can move on to the next. 

Jun Wu only nods, as though this is what he was expecting. It probably is. Xie Lian has, he thinks, done plenty of growing up in the past year, but his habit of not following much of the news and hearing it from the people around him is something that’s remained much the same. 

“There is a great deal of anticipation for the movie, and none more so about the possibilities of your performance,” Jun Wu says. He smiles gently. “Of course, that is no surprise, given your notoriety, but I have no doubt that you have performed well. You will sweep them away.” 

The butterflies are back in Xie Lian’s stomach in full force. Maybe he can slip away from the movie, he starts to think. He’s confident enough about his acting. The problem has never really been acting. From the first day of shooting, he’s been confident in his ability to do his job. It’s watching this story, so much of which feels like it has become his own and hearing the audience react to it… That seems to him like being stabbed a thousand times over. Still, he does manage a smile for his director, though he doubts it comes out particularly full. “Thank you, Jun Wu. It means a lot that you asked me to join.” 

“I would not have anyone else, young man,” Jun Wu says. He nods regally to Xie Lian and then moves on. 

It has always seemed likely that Jun Wu knew exactly of Xie Lian’s circumstances before his return to the world of acting, but now… Xie Lian doesn’t know what to think of that. Is this role the only thing that made Jun Wu wish to bring him back, knowing his circumstances? It doesn’t bear thinking about it. Instead, Xie Lian casts his attention around, looking for other familiar faces. 

Instead, he’s distracted by a tap on his shoulder. He spins to find Hua Cheng standing there in his own black-and-white tux. It’s probably something made just for him because it fits beautifully, even better than Xie Lian’s, and his hair is loose, in definite contrast to Xie Lian’s own high bun. 

“Hua Cheng, I didn’t realize you would be here!” he says, stepping forward. He nearly hugs the taller man before catching himself. It’s probably not something Hua Cheng would appreciate, especially not in front of the press and all their coworkers like this. Instead, he stops short and holds out his hand. 

Hua Cheng raises an eyebrow but accepts the shake. “I don’t usually come to these,” he says. “But I thought this movie needed the support. And I am a fan of the lead actor.” 

Xie Lian laughs nervously, but Hua Cheng’s casual manner does help, a bit more than Jun Wu’s solemn reassurances. “Be honest if you don’t like it,” he says. 

Hua Cheng shrugs. “If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have signed on,” he says. “And I did that even before I knew who the lead actor would be. Jun Wu managed to keep that one very quiet.” 

“I can see why,” Xie Lian says. “It seems like people weren’t happy about that.” 

“That’s their loss,” Hua Cheng says. He sounds utterly unconcerned about it. “It’s certainly not your problem.” 

Xie Lian doesn’t quite agree with that, not with the things he’s done, particularly to Jun Wu, but he doesn’t argue, just smiles. “Should we sit?” he asks. 

Hua Cheng leads them inside and finds them a seat. He ignores the buckets of popcorn and the drinks, which Xie Lian does himself but is nevertheless surprised by. When Hua Cheng catches his surprise, he rolls his eyes. “I know exactly how much work it will take to get grease out of these outfits,” he says. “And the drinks are far too large. We’re here to watch the movie, not gorge ourselves. When I’m watching something less interesting, then it’s a better idea.” 

“You did that when we watched movies you worked on!” Xie Lian protests. 

Hua Cheng shrugs. “I don’t have to think they’re the peak of cinema to work on them. I just have to make something I’m proud of.” 

“And this is? Something you’re proud of?” 

Hua Cheng shrugs. His gaze settles on Xie Lian, so intense even in the dim theater that Xie Lian can feel his heart in his mouth. “I know I’m going to be proud of you.” 

Just hearing those words ties up his tongue so much that he falls silent while all of the pre-movie fluff begins to play. It’s strange to see himself on that screen, even just answering the interview questions. He doesn’t think he’s been taken out of context, but it’s hard to tell. Are the people here glad to see him, as Hua Cheng is? Or are they going to hate him? Once again, Xie Lian wonders if he should find some time to slip away, but Hua Cheng is sitting between him and the aisle, so he remains in place. 

The lights come back up. Jun Wu steps to the front of the stage. He’s making some sort of speech, Xie Lian knows, but there’s a buzzing in his ears that makes it hard to concentrate on what he’s saying. It’s a good thing that he didn’t have anything to eat or drink because otherwise, he’s sure he’d feel much worse about this whole thing. As it is, he’s just grateful that it’s going to be dark in the theater soon. 

But when Jun Wu steps off the stage and the lights go dark, it only gets worse. Xie Lian leans forward, bracing his hands on his knees as the opening shot fades in on a dumpster. The smell of rotting food is invading his senses already. Xie Lian takes deep breaths, then startles when a hand touches his wrist. 

It’s Hua Cheng’s; he already knows it before he even follows the arm over. Without even glancing towards him, Hua Cheng wiggles their fingers together and gives Xie Lian’s hand a comforting squeeze. 

It helps. It’s not quite enough. Xie Lian still has to hide his face occasionally when he comes on screen, and there are some moments he just has to wait to end. It feels like each new scene drags him right back down into that well of emotion. It’s incredible how, even almost a year later, things can still feel so fresh. 

Hua Cheng doesn’t let his hand go, no matter how tightly he squeezes. He holds on all through the movie. 

Celestial Array Website (Editorials) - Latest Jun Wu Film God of Misfortune Immediate Box Office Success - December 20th, 2019, 10:00 AM

GOD OF MISFORTUNE: More than Oscarbait

Author: Shen Yuan

Okay, I’ll admit it: Going into the theater for God of Misfortune on opening night, I did not have high hopes. 

I didn’t have rock-bottom ones, either— this is a Jun Wu movie we’re talking about here. But despite the man’s good reputation, he’s put out some duds before. Remember Brocade? That film tanked Quan Yizhen’s career, and since then, Jun Wu has been playing it safe on the movie front. He hasn’t taken many risks, and when I saw the synopsis and the release date for this movie, I had my head in my hands. I was ready for this to be just as safe. 

After Crash , we all know about Oscarbait, and God of Misfortune sure does tick all of those boxes, with a December release and a sappy synopsis about homelessness and finding where you belong. Coupled with nonstop controversy over the casting choices, from rivals Mu Qing and Feng Xin to upcoming young actor Shi Qingxuan (the younger sibling of the infamous Shi Wudu, who’s recently made the transition to directing himself) and the lead actor Xie Lian, I was ready for the best thing about this movie to be the shot composition and editing. 

And honestly, if you go through the movie describing every scene, it sounds exactly as schlocky and sentimental as you’d expect, and the other half of it seems just downright edgy. It looks like an inspirational thinkpiece. It sounds like a five pm news special. 

I bawled my eyes out. 

Seeing a script would not do this movie justice. This one is an intense watch. Nothing ever feels cliche or stagnant. Everything feels grounded in the real world and in real people. It’s painful but never quite hopeless until you’re in the theater crying with the lead over a grocery store rotisserie chicken at 2am. 

Speaking of the lead… I take back every negative thing I have ever said about Xie Lian (and I have said a lot of things). This man drives the movie. He sells every scene he’s in with a practically autobiographical authenticity. Everyone onscreen has chemistry, especially Xie Lian and co-lead Shi Qingxuan. 

That’s all I can say without spoilers, so if I haven’t made it clear yet: Go watch it. Bring tissues and a drink with electrolytes. Leave yourself an hour afterward to stare up at your ceiling and contemplate your existence. 

Good? All done? Welcome back. Now, to get into spoilers and details territory…

Instagram - @ruoyecat Account - December 22nd, 2019, 10:00 PM

▶55.6k 🗨400

[A tuxedo cat with amber eyes crouching down and sniffing at a new kitten. There are a few following clips, the first few of the new kitten pouncing at the black cat’s tail and chewing at its ears, followed by a few clips of the two of them playing, with the black one batting at the white kitten as it lies on its back. There’s a few of them stealing toys from each other. The final shot is both of them running toward the camera and trying to rub their faces on it.]

Ruoye

#ruoye is staying with a friend for the holidays! These two get along well, but according to their babysitter, they fight for his attention sometimes. E-ming is a sweetie!

3langart he really isn’t, but it’s adorable that he has you tricked

3langart luckily they’re both staying with me, so you can’t overfeed either of them

ruoyecat don’t be mean! I’m sure they’re both being very good.  

3langart I’ll send you the bill for my destroyed shower curtain.

shasha omg they’re so cuuuuuute!

Jemmajemma !!! whose cat is that? He’s so handsome. His poor eye though… 

New York City - Xie Lian’s Tour Hotel - December 31st, 2019, 10:07 PM

HC: Where are you? 

Xie Lian stares down at his phone, his heart panging in his chest. Hua Cheng… What's he doing messaging Xie Lian right now? 

XL: Still in New York. We have another interview tomorrow. 

HC: Where in New York? 

XL: Just at our hotel.

HC: Can you make it to Times Square? 

Xie Lian starts to write out an answer, then stops. He wishes Hua Cheng were here in person, so Xie Lian could give him the suspicious look that he wants to. Hua Cheng is good at sounding innocent even when he’s definitely not, and Xie Lian is slowly learning to notice it. These texts are definitely setting off all of his alarm bells. 

XL: Why?

In response, Hua Cheng sends him a picture of what is clearly him, standing in the midst of Times Square. Xie Lian nearly drops his phone. When he picks it back up, he’s accidentally sent a message of his thumb swiping across his screen. 

XL: hijpiko

XL: Hua Cheng!!!!!!

HC: 😘

XL: When did you get here?

XL: How? 

HC: A few days ago, for a business meeting. I wanted it to be a surprise. 

XL: I’m surprised!!!!

HC: So, can you make it to Times Square? 

Even if he hadn’t thought he could before, he would definitely want to now. They’re not discouraged from leaving the hotel, because he knows Shi Qingxuan went out to a party not too long ago, and they’re not planning on being back for hours (they invited Xie Lian, but he knows by now what kind of parties they like to go to, and he suspects that there will be entirely too much booze there for it to be his kind of party. Considering how quickly Shi Qingxuan let him be, they knew it also), so Xie Lian just stops in with their tour manager to tell them where he’s going before he leaves the hotel to hunt down a subway station. 

Xie Lian has never spent much time in New York, and he’s spent very little of his time in the city on the MTA. He gets lost among the maze of tunnels that make up the closest station, and it takes him an embarrassingly long time to figure out how to pay for his ticket and get through the gates onto the platform. It takes even longer than that for him to find a map and the right train, and even then, he nearly gets onto the wrong train. He wants to pull out his phone to check the time to send Hua Cheng a text to apologize for how long it’s taking, but he doesn’t dare take his attention away from counting down the stops until Times Square. 

The good thing about winter is that he can pull a scarf up around his face, and no one will bat an eye, even on a subway warm and overcrowded with people. He buries his nose in his scarf to try and avoid the smell of alcohol and vomit that already permeates the car and does his best to hold onto the pole and take up as little space as possible. People keep crowding into the car until they’re packed in so much Xie Lian thinks he can barely breathe. He’s beginning to worry about being able to get off at the right stop. 

Apparently, he needn’t have worried because the train car empties out as soon as they get close to Times Square. Xie Lian follows the shuffle of people up out of the subway and into a world filled with lights. 

He gasps—he can’t help it. There are screens everywhere, flashing overhead, and above it all, a giant globe, completely covered in lights pulsing in brilliant fractal patterns. It takes someone bumping into his shoulder to startle him out of his staring. 

He mumbles an apology and steps to the side. He should text Hua Cheng to let him know that he’s here, try and figure out where in this crowd they can meet up. He’s digging into his pocket, the pocket of the coat he bought specifically for this trip, when he sees a familiar face, standing head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd. 

“Hua Cheng!” he calls out, darting forward. “Hua Cheng!” 

Hua Cheng frowns, then lights up when he sees Xie Lian. He dodges around a few people, his smile bright as any of the lights around them. “You made it.” 

“I did.” Xie Lian pulls up just short of throwing his arms around Hua Cheng. He can feel a blush building in his ears and cheeks. “You didn’t doubt me, did you?” 

“I was beginning to wonder,” Hua Cheng says, his eye sparkling with mischief. He’s wearing his hair down today, the way he often does in public when he doesn’t want people staring at his eye patch. Xie Lian is struck by the urge to comb his fingers through it. 

“I missed you,” he says. Hua Cheng’s gaze softens. 

Someone jostles Xie Lian again, so hard he almost stumbles off the curb. He catches himself quickly, then realizes that Hua Cheng’s hand is on his shoulder. 

“Thanks, Hua Cheng,” he says. Hua Cheng nods, still staring at the person who presumably had sent Xie Lian staggering. “It’s really crowded here, isn’t it!” 

Hua Cheng nods again. “You’re not feeling too claustrophobic, are you?” 

Xie Lian shakes his head. “Not at all,” he says, pressing close in against Hua Cheng’s side. “Though I’m worried we might get separated. There are so many people around and so much to look at. Before we realize it, we could lose each other completely.” 

“Don’t worry. I’ll look out for you, Xie Lian,” Hua Cheng says. 

“Of course. But it’s better not to get separated in the first place, isn’t it?” He slips his mittened hand into Hua Cheng’s and squeezes. His heart gives a little rabbiting thmp-thmp as he watches Hua Cheng, whose eye widens. Then he squeezes Xie Lian’s hand back and grins. 

“You’re right, of course. You think of everything.” Hua Cheng says. 

Xie Lian hides his grin by burying his face in his scarf and squeezes Hua Cheng’s hand right back. “You seem like you know the best things to do, so lead the way,” he says. 

The hand-holding quickly becomes entirely necessary as they struggle their way toward the edge of the square. People are tightly packed and moving in every direction, and Hua Cheng’s bright red coat, usually so noticeable, is dimmed by the darkness and the screens flashing around them. It’s like nowhere Xie Lian’s ever been, even as an actor, and he wants to relish in it, even though it threatens to become overwhelming. He squeezes Hua Cheng’s hand again, and the man glances back toward him. 

“Here we are,” he says. “What do you want?” 

“Fried dough,” Xie Lian answers immediately. Hua Cheng laughs. 

The line takes them a while, and Xie Lian’s fingers in their mittens are cold— his entire body is cold, really—but the warm dough works wonders. He sprinkles cinnamon and powdered sugar liberally on it. Hua Cheng sips at something he bought in a glass and watches as Xie Lian lifts it to his face. 

“Careful,” Hua Cheng warns, “you don’t want it to—” poof! “—go everywhere.” 

There’s powdered sugar all across his jacket, his mittens, his gloves. Xie Lian coughs in surprise, then laughs. “You could have told me not to breathe out! Or in!” 

Hua Cheng is laughing too. “I did try,” he points out. “Here, I’ll hold it while you clean up.” 

Xie Lian obligingly hands it over and uses his mittens— they’re a fuzzy lost cause; they’ll just have to be washed to get all the sugar out— to clean the powder off of his face. “Hua Cheng, do you want some?” he asks halfway through wiping away the smears. 

Hua Cheng shrugs and takes a bite, then tears off another piece and hands it back. “Be more careful this time,” he advises. 

“I know,” Xie Lian says and suits words to actions. 

It really is excellent, with the hot crispy dough and the sweetness of the sugar and the hints of cinnamon. Xie Lian finishes it quickly and then pulls off one glove to hold Hua Cheng’s hand again. 

“Your hand will get cold,” Hua Cheng warns him. 

“No, your hand is warm enough,” Xie Lian says, earning himself another squeeze. This time, Hua Cheng tangles their fingers together as he leads their way through the crowd. This time, they’re moving closer toward the “ball,” and Xie Lian can feel the press of people squeezing even tighter. Hua Cheng finally singles out a spot and draws Xie Lian even closer to him until they’re nearly touching down the whole length of their sides. 

“There,” Hua Cheng says, pointing with his free hand. “You can see the stage well from here.” 

“Maybe you can,” Xie Lian says, going up on his toes and using Hua Cheng’s hand to balance. 

“Should I pick you—” 

“No!” Xie Lian says quickly. “I have a good view, don’t worry.” 

“If you’re sure.” 

“I am,” Xie Lian says, primly, and transfers his hand to Hua Cheng’s shoulders so he can continue to balance on his toes. 

It’s getting close to the time now— the countdown is in minutes, resting at about five. Xie Lian shifts, occasionally dropping back down to flat feet. Hua Cheng keeps taking sips of his glass, occasionally offering it to Xie Lian. 

“What is it?” Xie Lian asks. 

“Champagne.” 

“No, thank you,” Xie Lian says. 

“You still don’t drink?” 

Xie Lian shrugs. The truth is, he thinks that adding any alcohol to his system now would be too much. He’s already been feeling bubbly and lighter than air. If he feels any more like this, he’ll start floating off the ground or maybe get sick, and while he’s sure Hua Cheng would be understanding, it’s not what he wants to do in front of him. 

Hua Cheng finishes his cup off, then tucks it into a pocket on his coat. 

“You know,” he says, looking toward the stage, and the countdown lit up on all of the screens. “I hated the New Year as a child.”

“The American one?” 

“All of them,” Hua Cheng says. Xie Lian watches the flashing lights glint off Hua Cheng’s eye. “It all seemed futile to me. Winter was the time of year when the world seemed closest to its true self. Everything was cold and dead and dying. I remember one of the shelters I stayed at, they had a television, but they would play nothing but nature documentaries. I watched one about the tundra, about how animals always had to kill each other to survive. That seemed truer than celebrating another year with fireworks or lion dancing.” The corner of his mouth quirked. “It didn’t help that I never got any red packets.” 

“What changed it?” 

Hua Cheng shrugs. “Nothing, really,” he says. “But I wanted to try it with you. To see what all the fuss was about.” 

“Hua Cheng…” 

00:30 flashes up on the big screens above them. Hua Cheng’s face is bathed in the colors of it as he looks away from the stage and meets Xie Lian’s eyes. There’s something in his gaze that makes Xie Lian sway forward. 

The crowd around them is cheering and jostling forward, and Xie Lian is getting bumped, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t want to move anywhere but closer to Hua Cheng, right now. 

“We should watch, Xie Lian,” Hua Cheng says, quiet enough that he nearly can’t be heard over the noise around them. There’s so much sound around them; it almost seems to cancel itself out into silence. 

Xie Lian tears his eyes away. 

“Ten!” The crowd cheers around them. He retakes Hua Cheng’s hand. “Nine! Eight!” He goes up on his toes, wobbling, and is steadied when he leans in against Hua Cheng’s steady presence. “Seven! Six!” 

“You know, it’s a tradition,” he says, breathlessly, “to kiss someone on the stroke of midnight.” 

“Three! Two! One!” 

The ball drops. 

It’s magnificent, really. People all around them are shouting, cheering. He hears “Happy New Year!” on repeat as they’re bumped. 

When he turns, Hua Cheng is staring with an indescribable look on his face. 

Xie Lian stays up on his toes, but a hand on his cheek tilts his face, and he obliges. They lean in towards each other, breaking their handhold to wrap arms around each other— Hua Cheng’s at Xie Lian’s waist, Xie Lian’s hand gripping hard at Hua Cheng’s shoulder. 

Twelve and a half seconds after midnight, they kiss.

Greater Los Angeles Area - Outside Xie Lian’s Apartment - January 13th, 2020, 7:00 PM

It’s his phone buzzing that first alerts Xie Lian to something being up. He rarely gets message alerts because Ling Wen prefers to call, and Shi Qingxuan has apparently decided that publically “at-ing” Xie Lian on Twitter is most amusing for them, though he still gets the occasional ding from his phone when they post pictures to Instagram. The one who texts him most often is Hua Cheng. 

Which is why Xie Lian drops out of the post-run stretch he’s doing to fumble for his phone. It has been a busy few weeks with all of the promotional touring he’s been doing, but he’s grateful to be back in Los Angeles where he can take some time to rest. It may be hot here still, and his apartment may be much less luxurious than the hotels he’s been spending many of his nights in, but it’s neat and familiar. He’s learned better than to take home, any home, for granted. Besides, now that he’s here, he’s got his friends all gathered in one place, and he has Ruoye to keep him company even when they’re not.  

Not that there’s much rest to be had. Ling Wen has a list of auditions for him that’s growing by the day, and it’s reached the point where he won’t be able to do all of them. The idea of having enough invitations to audition, or even outright invitations to a part, that he can afford to be picky is humbling. 

He’s still not sure whether he’ll upgrade once the money from God of Misfortune comes to him. He doesn’t want to risk losing everything again, on the one hand. On the other, it would be nice to be closer to Hua Cheng, if only because bringing Ruoye across the city in a cat carrier on a bicycle is painful and rather distressing for her whenever he needs to leave for a few days. 

He hasn’t seen Hua Cheng except to pick up Ruoye again since he landed in LA. They’ve both, it seems, been busy. It’s understandable, but it’s still a little lonely. Maybe Hua Cheng finally has some time off coming up? 

But as he swipes open the phone, he realizes that it must be something else. 

HC: Congratulations on your nomination. 

XL: My what?

As he stares down at it, he realizes that there are a few more notifications on his phone, including a missed call from Ling Wen. She’s left a message, but she doesn’t appreciate being left waiting for very long. He fumbles his way through getting a voicemail. 

“Hello, Xie Lian,” Ling Wen says as the message begins. As always, she’s all business, but there’s something light to her tone that Xie Lian doesn’t think he’s ever heard from her before. It even sounds a bit like she’s pleased? “I have to remind you that I am not your publicist. However, several news agencies have reached out to me, hoping to get a statement from you regarding your recent nominations. I can put them in contact with you, or—and frankly, I prefer this— you will call me back, and I will take a statement to report to them. Please respond either way soon. And welcome back.” 

His— what? 

Immediately, he dials Ling Wen back. 

“ Wei ?” she answers the phone with, then. “Ah. Xie Lian, good. I take it you received my message? Congratulations are in order.” 

“Ah, thank you,” Xie Lian says, toeing off his shoes and pacing past his doorway into his kitchen, where he stares at the table. “What was it—” 

“Right,” Ling Wen says. “The statement. Two would be appropriate, I suppose. Do you have any preferences for outlets I should avoid?” 

Xie Lian winces. “No, Ling Wen, I meant—I missed what I’ve been nominated for?” 

There is a long pause. “You have not seen the news?” she asks. “They surely sent out the notices as well… The nominee lists for the Academy Awards were released today.” 

“Oh.” Xie Lian slumps back in his chair. “I haven’t checked my email,” he says weakly. “Which…?” 

“Best Actor in a Leading Role,” Ling Wen answers promptly. “And God of Misfortune has been nominated for Best Picture as well.” 

“Oh,” Xie Lian repeats. He can’t quite seem to get anything else to come out of his mouth. 

“It is quite an honor,” Ling Wen says. “Should I put any of the journalists in contact with you?” 

She does not sound like she thinks this is a good idea. Given his track record, Xie Lian agrees. He probably does need to hire a permanent publicist instead of relying on XianXia’s publicist for the film, especially if he wants to continue this acting thing.

“No,” he says as he finally unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “No, I’ll just give you the statement. You can tell them… tell them that it’s unexpected but that I’m grateful, and I’m glad that Jun Wu gave me the opportunity. And to congratulate everyone who helped make this movie what it is.” 

“Very well.” There’s a scribbling pen underlying Ling Wen’s words. “Congratulations again, Xie Lian.” 

And without another word, she hangs up. 

Xie Lian sits in silence for a while longer, staring into the distance. An Academy Award. Two Academy Awards, sort of. It’s one of the industry things he’s been aware of for some time, but that he never quite cared about when he was younger. He’s not so sure what to think of it now. 

It’s probably good for his career, even if he isn’t quite sure how he personally feels about it. Maybe a bit like he’s an imposter who’s stolen the nomination from someone else. 

There’s still a chance that he won’t win, of course. It seems unlikely that they’ll choose him, with his reputation, and with this being his first film back. But everyone else who worked on this movie deserves to be recognized for the hard work they’ve done. Best Picture makes sense. Jun Wu has to have been nominated before, hasn’t he? It’s well-earned. 

His phone buzzes again in his hand. 

HC: On your Oscars nomination. 

HC: I’m glad that this is the film you were nominated for, you know. 

XL: Why is that? 

HC: Because I’ve never seen an actor understand this quite like you do. 

Xie Lian presses one hand to his mouth as he stares at the message. He takes in a shaky breath. 

XL: Hua Cheng, I

XL Never mind. I typed the wrong thing. 

XL: Thank you.

HC: It’s okay. 

HC: Don’t log onto twitter, though. It’s a madhouse. 

That, at least, makes him laugh. 

XL: I think I’ve learned better. 

XL: I’ll get Shi Qingxuan to show me how to finally turn off notifications, they said there was a way to do that. 

HC: That’s a good idea. 

HC: Xie Lian

XL: Yes?

HC: you deserve it. Even if you don’t win, you deserve it. 

XL: And… there’s always next time, right? 

Xie Lian holds his breath, clutching his phone in both hands. He watches as a little row of dots appears, then disappears, then appears again. 

HC: Or you can get two. 

He laughs. He can’t help it; he’s filled with such relief. It feels like by telling Hua Cheng, he’s finally given himself permission to believe that this can be happening to him. His stomach is squirming pleasantly as he smiles down at his phone. It’s incredible what a difference it makes, having someone always on his side. 

XL: Or I can get two.

HC: Do you need an outfit? 

XL: oh!

XL: I forgot that’s a part of it

XL: Aaah, it’s too late to go to the designers, isn’t it. 

XL: I’ll figure out something. Maybe rent a suit.

HC: Actually, if you wouldn’t mind, I have a side project that might fit you. 

XL: Really? 

HC: If you don’t mind wearing something that’s not designer on the [red carpet]. 

XL: I would be honored to wear Hua Cheng’s work! 

HC: Then come to my place whenever you’re free. I’ll get you fitted. 

Downtown Los Angeles - Hua Cheng’s Apartment - January 22nd, 2020, 3:45 PM

The route to Hua Cheng’s apartment is familiar, but Xie Lian still finds himself hesitating a few times along the path. He’s stopped by the store on his way here to pick up some of the dried sardines he’s noticed Hua Cheng likes, but it doesn’t feel like enough compensation for all the effort he’s going through to get Xie Lian a suit. 

He pauses just outside of the doorway, hesitating. Maybe he should just… tell Hua Cheng not to bother, that he’ll work something out. But then again, Hua Cheng is the one who offered, and he really won’t have many chances to find something else… 

A scratching sound interrupts him before Xie Lian can worry about it any further. He can hear a quiet meow from the other side of the door and then footsteps. 

“E-Ming, stay inside,” Hua Cheng is saying as he opens the door. He’s shoving the cat back with one foot, but he lifts his head long enough to wave Xie Lian inside. “Hurry, or he’ll make a dash for it,” he advises. 

“He's just friendly,” Xie Lian says as he steps inside the door. Hua Cheng closes it behind him, and Xie Lian crouches down, reaching out a hand toward E-Ming. The cat immediately butts his head against it, purring up a storm. “See? Hello, E-Ming,” he says, scratching him behind the ears. 

“Every time you come by, he acts like he’s been starving,” Hua Cheng snorts. “Here. Come in, I have tea if you’d like it, and then we can get started.” 

Xie Lian slips out of his shoes, then holds the bag out to Hua Cheng, who takes it with a raised eyebrow. “Here,” he says. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to thank you for taking this on. You didn’t have to, and I’m really grateful.” 

Hua Cheng looks inside, then pulls out the sardines. “Thank you, Xie Lian, but it’s really no trouble,” he says. “You’re giving me a chance to show off my work. Really, I’m the one who should be grateful.” 

Before Xie Lian can respond to that, Hua Cheng tips his head in the direction of the kitchen. “Let’s have these with tea,” he suggests and starts moving. 

They pass through the living room on their way there, with E-Ming trailing them and weaving between their feet when they walk too slowly, as Xie Lian discovers when he draws almost to a halt.

“Hua Cheng!” he says, stepping forward and nearly tripping over the cat as he does. “This looks amazing.” 

On a mannequin, there’s a white suit. It’s impeccably cut, with a mandarin-style collar on the shirt underneath, and a suit jacket that’s covered with delicate embroidery, flowers, and vines that branch across the bottom of it in pale pinks and peaches. It must have taken forever to make, Xie Lian thinks. He can see so many intricate little details worked into the fabric, even from across the room. 

“Do you like it?” Hua Cheng asks. 

“I love it,” Xie Lian answers honestly, circling around the stand to take in the details. There’s even more to see on the back, he realizes and stops to observe that, too. “This looks like it should be in a museum! I can’t believe you’re letting me wear it.” 

“I know you’ll do your best to take care of it,” Hua Cheng says. “But we’ll see to the fitting later. For now, I really did promise you tea.” 

“And I offered you sardines. There should be some fresh dumplings,” Xie Lian agrees. He finally steps away from the coat, and the warring urges to touch it and to leave such a beautiful outfit pristine. 

Hua Cheng’s house is just as stylish and expensive as always, the kind of place Xie Lian might have lived before… everything. 

“I love the way your house looks, Hua Cheng,” Xie Lian tells him. “You put such care into it.” 

“It’s nothing,” Hua Cheng says, waving his hand. “Though I’m glad you enjoy spending time here. Have you thought about moving?” 

“Me?” Xie Lian echoes. “Why?” 

“Yes.” Hua Cheng hands over a cup of tea. “Now that you’re famous again, don’t you think you might like somewhere that has more security?” 

Xie Lian laughs, a little embarrassed. “I didn’t think of it like that,” he says. “I’m not really famous yet… and besides, no one would think of an actor living in a place like that, would they?” 

“Not yet, perhaps,” Hua Cheng says. “But they’re going to notice you, and rightly so. You should be prepared for that.” 

“I don’t really know the first thing about looking for a place,” Xie Lian admits. “So, I might have to ask you for help.” 

“Really?” 

Xie Lian nods. “I lived with my family, and our house was taken care of, or our [family retainer],” he explained. “Aah, it’s really extravagant when described that way, isn’t it. It was, I suppose. In any case, I never had to handle it for myself. I got lucky when I found my place, but I’ve never had to get an apartment as an actor before. It’s hard to imagine the press paying any attention to me nowadays.” 

Hua Cheng taps at his glass. “Well. There may not be a pressing need to move just yet. But if anyone starts to trouble you, come to me. I have a spare room that’s yours whenever you need it.” 

“Really?” Xie Lian asks, surprised.

“Of course. I’d hate to see you getting harassed.” 

Not for the first time, Xie Lian thinks that Hua Cheng is the one who should have been an actor. Sitting there in his kitchen, with the light around him illuminating him like he’s on a set, he looks beautiful, ethereal. His hair curls around his ears and over his eyepatch, and he’s smiling at Xie Lian like there’s no one else in the world he’d rather be looking at. It’s a beautiful expression, and Xie Lian can’t begin to guess what's behind it. He wishes that he knew, wishes that he could find the right combination of words to unravel the secret of Hua Cheng’s heart. 

That night in New York still sets a whole storm of butterflies loose in Xie Lian’s stomach and his bloodstream, even just as a passing thought, but Hua Cheng is so— so inscrutable. Xie Lian catches a look in his eyes sometimes, something that makes him wonder, but where do admiration and fondness end and love begin? 

Even just the thought makes Xie Lian blush. He takes a sip of his tea to busy himself. “Thank you,” he says. “I hope I won’t need it, but I’ll trouble you for your hospitality if things somehow become bad.” 

Hua Cheng’s smile widens, enough to crinkle his eye at the edges. “It wouldn’t be any trouble,” he insists. “I’m sure Xie Lian is a very polite house guest.” 

“As long as you’re sure,” Xie Lian demures, but he bows his head in thanks. He has to admit, he wants to picture what living with Hua Cheng might be like. What waking up and sharing breakfast with Hua Cheng would be like, or just talking until the morning… 

He drains the last of his tea and decisively sets his cup down. “Thank you for the tea,” he says. “Should we… get started?” 

Hua Cheng sets his own cup aside. “Of course,” he says. He gets to his feet and gestures Xie Lian toward the room where the mannequin is set up. 

The suit still looks just as good as Xie Lian thought. He steps up and looks the entire thing over, lingering on the details like the buttons and the embroidery. It might seem a little too adventurous for this award ceremony, but it is nevertheless so beautiful that Xie Lian can’t find himself minding. Shi Qingxuan is sure to go for something even more outrageous, so he won’t stand out compared to them. And the thought of wearing something that Hua Cheng has designed, even if it’s not specifically for him, makes his heart feel light. 

“I hope I can do this justice,” he says, though he doesn’t dare to touch it just yet. “And keep it safe. It looks like this took a lot of work, Hua Cheng.” 

“Only a little. It was done for fun, so the work hardly matters,” Hua Cheng says, waving it off. “Now, if you can change into the pants and shirt— I’ll still need to check the fit.” 

He takes the jacket off the mannequin, leaving a Chinese collared shirt and pair of slacks that he hands off to Xie Lian. “The bathroom is that way,” he says, gesturing Xie Lian off.

“I remember,” Xie Lian says and shuffles down the hallway. He has to close the door in E-Ming’s face to keep the cat from coming in with him. It feels awkward changing into clothes that are this nice just to stand around in someone’s living room, and it’s even more embarrassing to leave his own worn-out things just sitting by Hua Cheng’s sink, but it’s better than bringing them back out in the living room. He tucks his hair up into a bun, self-consciously checks his face, and then steps back outside. 

Hua Cheng has set up a little table with some assortment of tools, namely a measuring tape and a box of pins. He glances up at the sound of the door and smiles. “It looks lovely,” he says. 

“It’s your work, so of course it does,” Xie Lian retorts. Then he holds out his arms. “It seems to fit well, I think? The legs are a little long…” 

“I can fix that. You’re right, the fit isn’t bad,” Hua Cheng says, looking him over with a critical eye. “It shouldn’t take too many modifications. He smiles. “You’re smaller than I expected. It must be from fitting you for those oversized sweaters. I think you’re always small and cuddly.” 

“I don’t think I’m that small,” Xie Lian smiles. “Just small compared to you.” He steps closer, going up briefly on his toes to prove his point. Hua Cheng retorts by ruffling his hair, then pulling out his box of pins while Xie Lian tries to neaten it again. “Let’s get started,” he says. 

Being fit is a much different process from being measured. It’s a little more lingering, even though Hua Cheng’s hands don’t go quite the same places as before. Xie Lian got fittings done by his assistants throughout the movie, but never by Hua Cheng himself. If anything, it makes things even more flustering. Hua Cheng tugs and pinches on the fabric, rolling it up occasionally as he pins things into place or asks Xie Lian to move to get a sense of the fit. It’s hard enough on his legs, but the shirt is worse, as he can feel the warmth of Hua Cheng’s hands through the fabric. It puts them closer together, too. 

Xie Lian keeps still and quiet, but taking the opportunity to watch Hua Cheng as he works is invaluable, so he turns his attention to that. Hua Cheng’s lashes and hair occasionally hide his eye, but the look of concentration on his face is unmistakable. So too is the light flush that paints his cheeks when he looks up and catches Xie Lian looking at him. 

There’s a moment where he rises, not quite to his full height. Their Hua Cheng’s eye is locked with Xie Lian’s own, their heads are close together. Xie Lian breathes in, and Hua Cheng blinks. 

“So?” he says, turning away. “What do you think?” 

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” Xie Lian says, his brain buzzing. He wants to reach out to kiss Hua Cheng again, but it doesn’t seem like the right moment, not with Hua Cheng turned so deliberately away. Did he do something wrong? Or… 

Hua Cheng turns around with the coat in hand, his face still noticeably red. Xie Lian smiles, his heart skittering with fondness. Maybe he’s not the only one who’s nervous here. 

“Here,” Hua Cheng says. “The last part.” 

The coat goes on over the rest, and sure enough, it feels like it fits just fine to Xie Lian, but Hua Cheng still has a few adjustments to make to it before he’s satisfied. Xie Lian is sure those adjustments will be evident once he’s wearing the finished suit, but at the moment, it’s hard to tell how it will feel when he has to be careful of disturbing pins while he moves. 

“There,” Hua Cheng says, taking the coat and waving Xie Lian off. “I’ll make the adjustments and have it to you in a few days.” 

Xie Lian shuffles off to change, admiring the outfit briefly as he takes it off. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, but he’d had no idea Hua Cheng was accomplished enough to make something this dressed-up. It’s comfortable, beautiful, and yet Xie Lian doesn’t remember wearing anything like it before. It might just be the style right now, but Xie Lian suspects he’ll be one of the most striking men there, aside from Hua Cheng himself. Xie Lian doesn’t know how he intends to dress, but he’s sure it will be gorgeous. 

When Xie Lian emerges from the bathroom with the shirt and pants folded as neatly as he can get them over his arm, Hua Cheng is writing notes on a slip of paper. He tucks it into the pocket of the jacket, then takes the rest of the outfit from Xie Lian. 

“I don’t think I ever asked,” Xie Lian says as he watches. “How did you learn to do all this?” 

Xie Lian can see the way Hua Cheng’s shoulders go stiff. He bites his lip. Was it really an invasive question? As the silence drags on, he begins to realize that it must have. However, when he opens his mouth to apologize, Hua Cheng turns. 

“It’s a long story,” he says, shrugging. “The short answer is that I struggled my way into several apprenticeships and jobs before gaining any recognition and working as an assistant designer. I did that for a few years before striking out successfully on my own, but again, then I had to fight for it.” 

“But before that?” Xie Lian asks carefully. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” 

Hua Cheng’s mouth goes thin, but he beckons Xie Lian over to the couch. Xie Lian sits, tucking his hands between his knees as he watches Hua Cheng, but Hua Cheng seems to be lost to his thoughts as he stares into the middle distance. 

“I did not grow up in a stable home,” he says into the room. “My family moved a lot, and we were homeless in between. I remember, when I was about seven or so, the place we were staying had a celebrity come and visit.” 

Xie Lian holds his breath, not daring to make a sound in case it interrupts Hua Cheng. He wants to reach out, but he isn’t sure that will be accepted, either. 

“I had just seen Split the Sun , and I recognized the actor that came. I thought he was the prince from the movie come to life, to steal me away. We were drawing, all the kids in the shelter, and he looked at my drawing and said that he thought it would make a beautiful costume and that he’d love to wear it one day.” 

Xie Lian bites his lip. He can remember a visit like that, barely. But time has blurred that memory, like so many others from his time acting. Still, he can’t help the embarrassed flush. What must he have sounded like, saying that to a child? He was so arrogant then. 

And yet Hua Cheng sounds quietly reverent as he remembers it. There’s a hint of a smile on his face. “I had never heard anything like that before, even when I was a child. I became determined to see it become true. So I learned how to draw and how to make clothing. Sometimes I ran away from home and from my foster families. Sometimes I stole colored pencils from schools or the store. Sometimes I stole fabric or plaster. But here we are now.” 

He turns to Xie Lian, his eye dark as it looks him over. Xie Lian swallows and rubs his suddenly-sweaty palms together between his knees. 

“Here we are,” he echoes. There’s a sinking feeling in his gut. How can he possibly live up to this… this beautiful picture Hua Cheng has of him? He’s not that hero. He was an arrogant child who destroyed his career and has only just had the grace to regain it, thanks to his old mentor. He has done so little to root out the things he so hates about this industry. And for what? 

He’s not as brave as Hua Cheng. How can he hold his head high when he’s hidden what happened to him? How can he consider himself a role model for that little boy? For anyone?

“I’m sorry,” he says, down to the carpet. “I’ve taken up too much of your time already. I should go.” 

Hua Cheng makes a sound of protest, but Xie Lian shakes his head, already getting to his feet. “I’ll see myself out,” he says quickly. “Just let me know when you’re done, and I’ll send over some payment. I’ll… see you around.” 

Then, without even stopping for his coat, he leaves.

Twitter - Xie Lian’s Userpage: Tweets & replies - January 25th, 2020, 5:00 PM

🏮 Shi Qingxuan 🏮 ☑ @theyoungershi ᐧ 10m

Happy red packet day!!!!! 🧧🧧🧧🧧🧧🧧 

    [an image of Shi Qingxuan spreading out his gift envelopes on a table accompanies the tweet. Shi Wudu is barely visible in the background.]

     Chaps @yeeeehaw ᐧ 2m

    Replying to @theyoungershi

    Omg so many

     Emma Wang @emmawang ᐧ 2m

    Replying to @theyoungershi

        How much did you get??????

     Xie Lian @fangxin ᐧ 8m

    Replying to @theyoungershi

        Happy new year! 🐀

        🏮 Shi Qingxuan 🏮 ☑ @theyoungershi ᐧ 8m

        Replying to @fangxin

            🐭🐭🐭 you too! 🍴🐟 I’ll deliver your envelope at the oscars 

         Xie Lian @fangxin ᐧ 8m

        Replying to @theyoungershi

            Oh, you don’t have to, really. But I’ll see you there! 

             Emma Wang @emmawang ᐧ 2m

            Replying to @fangxin, @theyoungershi

                 Isn’t Xie Lian the older one in this situation? Shouldn’t he be giving the envelope instead? 

             Tallahassee Fang @talfangirl ᐧ 2m

            Replying to @emmawang

                yeah but everyone knows the Shi family is loaded 

Los Angeles - Dolby Theater - February 9th, 2020, 4:15 PM

Preparing for tonight has been nothing less than dizzying, and now that Xie Lian is here, it’s even worse. He’s spent the past week in a daze. Has it been a week? He’s genuinely not sure anymore. Oh, he knows the dates of it well enough, but the time seems to stretch strangely in his mind when he thinks back on it. He’s not sure if it feels like it’s been more time or less. All he’s sure is that the Oscars seem to exist in a different universe from the rest of his life. Maybe it’s because of the way he arrived. He’s grown used to biking everywhere, of having to pack a change of clothes and make sure he’s presentable and not too sweaty at the end of it.

This time, though, Ling Wen refused to let him show up in any way that would start rumors. She’s probably on the verge of hiring herself as his PR agent, he thinks wryly. She certainly was not above forcing a rented car and chauffeur on him, even though he was going alone. And he does suppose that it makes sense. Driving the car himself and then walking would open him up to questions and fans, and while he doesn’t mind the fans, the questions from the press and paparazzi are the last thing he wants right now. He doesn’t need Ling Wen’s urgings to want to avoid them. 

Though thinking of fans doesn’t help, either, not when he’s running through his speech over and over again in his head. What if he loses? The thought is almost a relief, except… He wants to give this speech. He needs to say the words, even if the idea makes his stomach churn. Didn’t he rejoin this industry to try and change things? He may be terrible at interviews, but a speech like this is his chance to actually say something meaningful. 

Theoretically. If he can say it. 

He dodges past the crowds outside the building with a thin smile each time. He can’t avoid all the cameras, of course. Still, he does his best to walk behind people who are already answering questions, and he brushes the rest off with a few polite “excuse me”s and by carefully but pointedly continuing to walk when someone tries to waylay him with questions. He hears so many. “How does it feel to be a star again?” “What do you attribute your return to?” “Is there anyone in your life?” “How was it working with your co-stars?” 

He dodges past the people inside, passing with only a brief smile and a nod whenever he's noticed, and goes to find his seat as early as possible. From there, it’s easy enough to remain aloof. He’s been out of the industry for so long that there are plenty of faces unfamiliar to him, and the few he recognizes don’t always stop by to say hello. It’s the inevitable consequence of a career that’s unstable as his has been, and while it’s not really a good thing, Xie Lian is grateful for it at this moment. Most of the rest only wave to him, perhaps intending to talk later or simply sensing his desire to remain aloof for the moment. Mu Qing and Feng Xin, arriving in each other’s company, surprisingly seem to sense this because they only nod at him from afar as they settle into their own places. 

He thinks he sees Jun Wu, but before he can tell, someone settles into the seat next to him. 

“Xie Lian!” 

It’s Shi Qingxuan, of course. They’re dressed up in something that looks beautiful, though to Xie Lian’s untrained eye, he’s not sure what he would call it. 

They’re also waving a red packet in his direction. 

Xie Lian buries his face in a hand. “You didn’t have to,” he tells them, slightly muffled. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I just put a gift card to that cafe you like,” they say, and pull open his suit jacket to tuck the envelope into an inner pocket. “Spend it on that friend of yours.” 

Xie Lian opens his mouth to protest, but they’re already tugging his jacket flat again. “You look good!” they say, turning him by the shoulder so that they can look at him. “Where did this come from?” 

Xie Lian looks down instinctively, then flushes as he catches sight of the embroidered flowers again. “Oh… Hua Cheng made it for me, actually. I didn’t leave enough time to go to a designer for a suit.” 

Shi Qingxuan sighs. “I knew I should have reminded you. But this turned out lovely. Maybe I should ask him next year…?” 

They sound very doubtful about that idea, and Xie Lian can’t blame them. “I think you look amazing yourself,” he tells them. “We’re all supposed to be dressed formally, but I think you’ve outdone us all.” 

They grin, but don’t deny it. “Are you ready to win?” they ask instead. 

“No,” Xie Lian admits. 

Shi Qingxuan’s smile wavers, just a little. “I don’t think I am either,” They admit. “I know exactly what they’ll say if I do, and I don’t know if I want to hear it. And when I give a speech, I’m not sure they’ll want to hear it.” 

Xie Lian’s throat goes tight. “I think I know what you mean,” he says quietly. “But if it’s important to you, then you should say it.” 

Shi Qingxuan twists their fingers together in their lap but then nods sharply. “You know what? I think you do. You’re right. We’re going to win. And we’re both going to say it.” 

“We will,” Xie Lian agrees, though saying it makes his nerves erupt. He squeezes Shi Qingxuan’s hand. “I think you should go— your brother is waving at you.” 

Shi Qingxuan twists in their seat, then waves. “Yeah, that’s him! Remind me to introduce you two, after?” 

“Of course,” Xie Lian says, shooing them off. Then he returns to his seat, slipping his hand into his pocket to touch the index cards hidden there, and does not look at the stage. 

He knows he should be listening. Some of his castmates are up for these awards. But he hasn’t seen any of the movies in question— well, no. That’s not true. He’s seen a few. He recognizes the title of one of Hua Cheng’s films as the costume design award comes up. It was one that was very different from his usual style, a period piece that he’d said he’d taken on “just to prove I can do it.” And he’s done it well, Xie Lian is sure. They haven’t gotten around to watching it, but Hua Cheng doesn’t do anything he decides to do in half measures. 

But it doesn’t win, and Xie Lian lets out a disappointed sigh as the winners instead take the stage. He catches himself looking around to catch a glimpse of Hua Cheng. But he can’t manage it, no matter how he twists his head. 

But eventually, the time creeps upon him. The hostess— another person Xie Lian isn’t familiar with— announces the category. Then, she says a name. 

It takes him nearly five seconds to realize that the name is his. 

He hasn’t drunk anything remotely alcoholic, but Xie Lian still feels dizzy as he steps toward the stage. Qing Xuan jumps out of their seat to give him a hug on the way up, and he returns it, even as their weight makes him momentarily stagger. 

He manages the stairs without wobbling, somehow, and even better, manages not to drop the statue as it’s put into his hands. He has no idea how he must look right now as he turns out toward the audience and the lights and is momentarily blinded. Flustered, probably. 

There’s no time for envisioning butterflies and releasing them. There are too many to count, too many emotions competing with one another until they settle him into an acutely frantic sort of calm. All that he has left is to think, am I doing this?

Yes.

“Thank you,” he says, into the waiting microphone. He curls his fingers securely around the little statue and launches into the words he’s been practicing for weeks. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. Important things should be said three times, and thanks are the most important thing to give.”

“I’ve come to learn that you can never take things for granted. So… it’s even more important to appreciate what we have here and now. I wouldn’t be here if [Jun Wu] hadn’t had faith in me. I wouldn’t be here if my family had not wished the best for me. I wouldn’t be here if my fellow actors hadn’t been so much themselves on the cast of this movie. 

And…” 

He swallows. It’s still hard to see past the lights, but he catches a glimpse of a red suit and black hair, and his heart swells, and he thinks, yes, I can do this for him.

“Not many people know this, but shortly into the filming of King of Heaven, my parents both died after a long illness. I was devastated. I say this not to excuse what happened next but to explain. We’d spent a great deal on their treatment, and I hoped that King of Heaven would help. 

When it didn’t, I lashed out in my grief. And so I was blacklisted. 

The last money I had, I spent sending my parents to their family burial site back home. It was their final wish. The rest of it went to the medical debt, and the end result was that for three years, I was homeless.” 

Xie Lian can hear the ripples going through the room, though they surely must be happening only in quiet murmurs. He does not look down at them. He keeps his head high, and keeps going. 

“I was unlucky because every security net I should have had failed me. I was unlucky because I had never been anything but an actor, and with no home address and very few skills, I couldn’t get hired. I was unlucky because I had no one to reach out to for help.” 

“But, I was still lucky because I made it back here.” 

“Not everyone does. God of Misfortune is a true story, or it might as well be. I’m glad this is the movie I came back to. Films can do many things, but one of the most important is to bring light to stories that are otherwise forgotten in the dark. 

“A very dear friend helped me to realize this. He was once in a very similar situation to me. Without knowing it, I gave him the chance to escape, and he’s done the same for me. Without him, God of Misfortune wouldn’t exist the way it does to me. I wouldn’t be able to talk about the things that need to be said. So, Hua Cheng— I think you should know how many thank yous I owe you. A million times, thank you. And thank you all.” 

He stumbles offstage into a blur of people and speeches and everything else. He forgets who he shakes hands with, though he thinks he’s able to smile and return their congratulations with thank yous every time. Shi Qingxuan gives a delighted shriek and pulls him into another hug as he comes back to his seat, and Xie Lian laughs and hugs them back. 

“It was a perfect speech,” Shi Qingxuan tells him. 

Xie Lian blushes and ducks his head. “Thanks,” he mumbles down towards his hands. Shi Qingxuan must be giving him a knowing smile because they elbow him gently. It’s fine, they already know, and if they don’t quite understand it, they’re at least willing to support him in it. 

No one else seems to realize what he’s just done. The smiles and the claps on the shoulder he receives are all just perfunctory things— no one seems to quite know what to do with him yet, whether he’s back for good or whether this one good movie is just a fluke, but no one seems to think he doesn’t deserve it. Shi Wudu, sitting next to Shi Qingxuan, gives Xie Lian nothing more than a nod before turning his attention back to the stage. 

From there, everything seems to slide into a blur of voices and applause. He manages to resurface for Best Picture, as they are all called up onto stage once more. Jun Wu accepts the statue first, but rather than stepping forward, he gestures to Shi Qingxuan, who steps forward. 

“There is no category here for people who identify the way I do,” they say. 

It is a beautiful speech. Shi Qingxuan hugs him when he tells them that afterward, and laughs with a thrill of hysteria, as they all file off. 

Xie Lian doesn’t know what he’ll do if he sees Hua Cheng. Maybe he should have said something more obvious, Xie Lian thinks, biting at a nail. Maybe it was too sentimental. Maybe he should have saved all of it for after when he could say it to Hua Cheng’s face and not spend all this time waiting and worrying. 

Xie Lian doesn’t realize it’s over until the lights on stage start to go dim, and Shi Qingxuan jolts against his shoulder and starts to get up. “C’mon, Xie Lian! Afterparty!” They cheer, pulling him along. “I need a drink.” 

“Ah, I think I should find Mu Qing and Feng Xin,” Xie Lian mutters, drawing away. “Maybe I’ll find you in a bit?” 

Shi Qingxuan turns to give him a look but laughs good-naturedly. “Sure! I forgot, we’re already up past your bedtime, aren’t we?” Their eyes glitter in the bright lights of the hall. “And you have someone special to talk to.” 

Xie Lian knows his face is going red, but he keeps his expression smooth. He can’t exactly deny it after what he did up on stage! So instead, he nods and steps away under Shi Qingxuan’s delighted grin. “I’ll see you later.” 

The hall is a blur of people, and Xie Lian can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed by it. How is he supposed to find anyone in this mass of bodies? Feng Xin and Mu Qing might not even want to see him after all this is done. They haven’t exactly met up except for the press tours in the wake of the movie, and those were often stilted— Their agents tended to book Xie Lian and Shi Qingxuan, or Mu Qing and Feng Xin, rarely Xie Lian with his two old friends. Maybe a working relationship is all they want. They’re not working in any new projects together, as far as Xie Lian knows. 

Then he spots a familiar shape among the crowd and starts forward. Feng Xin and Mu Qing are clumped together against the wall, both holding glasses of champagne and scowling at each other. It’s almost a relief to see them arguing like this. They don’t look anywhere near blows, just grumbling the way they always do. It’s familiar in a way that settles Xie Lian’s nerves just a little. 

“Feng Xin! Mu Qing!” he calls out as he approaches and lifts a hand to wave. Both of them startle but turn quickly towards him. 

“I wasn’t sure I’d be able to find you two,” he says as he approaches. Both are fidgeting, and Mu Qing doesn’t seem to be able to look him in the face. “What did you think of the awards?” 

“They were,” Feng Xin starts, just as Mu Qing shrugs and mutters, “Nothing special.” They both cut off, then turn to glare at each other, then at Xie Lian. “You deserve it,” they both say at once. 

“I…” Xie Lian echoes, blinking at both of them. Mu Qing is rolling his eyes and sneering into the distance somewhere past Xie Lian’s shoulders. Feng Xin has his arms crossed over his chest tight enough that Xie Lian worries for the seams on his suit. He blinks again to clear the mist that has settled over his eyes. “Thank you,” he says helplessly. “I couldn’t ask for two people I’d rather work with on my return.” 

Feng Xin is biting his lip, and Mu Qing makes a scoffing sound. But both of them are darting looks toward him now, sidelong. Xie Lian steps forward and pulls both of them into a hug. 

There’s grumbling, and the two of them go stiff and almost pull away. But Xie Lian’s grip is firm, and after a few moments, he can feel two pairs of arms wrap around his shoulders and sides and pull tight. 

They’re all blinking a little when they finally pull away. Xie Lian knows it must have only been a few minutes, but it feels like it’s been hours. It’s easier to muster up a smile now as he looks at both of them. “So,” he says. “I’ll see you both later?” 

Mu Qing narrows his eyes at Xie Lian, a suspicious frown. “Where are you going?” 

“I have someone else to meet, that’s all.” 

Feng Xin is watching him with a twist to his mouth and a pinch to his eyes. “Hua Cheng?” He asks suspiciously. “When did you start hanging out with him anyway?” 

“I met him the day I got the script for God of Misfortune ,” Xie Lian says, evenly. He doesn’t let either of them dampen his smile. In some ways, it’s warming, how protective they are. It reminds him a little of his old friends. “I’ll send you a message when I leave, but I really should start searching.” 

And with that, he sets off into the crowd. He has some apologies to make—and hopefully, something more than that. 

Los Angeles - Dolby Theater - February 2nd, 2020, 8:56 PM

It doesn’t take much longer to lose Feng Xin and Mu Qing in the crowd, but it’s a while before he rounds a cluster of people. and catches a glimpse of a figure in familiar crimson. “Hua Cheng!” 

Hua Cheng smiles and steps up to meet him. He looks brilliant, even more beautiful than all the actors around them. His hair is swept to the side into a fancy braid, with a single braided strand hanging down by his hair, with the red bead that he always wears on beautiful display. Xie Lian tucks his hands behind him so that he won’t mess it up by touching it, even though it’s after the awards ceremony, and people won’t care so much. 

Xie Lian looks up at Hua Cheng’s smile and finds himself abruptly tongue-tied. “Hua Cheng, I…” 

Hua Cheng’s smile widens, and he shakes his head. “Not here.” He takes Xie Lian by the hand and begins to gently lead him away. Xie Lian has to lengthen his stride to keep up. He’s not exactly short, but Hua Cheng has a lot of leg to his height, and he’s walking rather quickly. 

After a few moments of dodging through the crowd, Hua Cheng leads them through a discrete side door into a rather dull hallway. Xie Lian can hear the sounds of dishes clattering and voices from down it, but Hua Cheng leads him away from those too until he finds a stairwell and starts going up it. Along and along they go, until Hua Cheng picks what seems to be a random floor and pulls Xie Lian through more hallways until they come to what looks like an empty green room.

Hua Cheng steps inside, closes the door behind them, and backs away a few steps. 

“Hua Cheng?” Xie Lian asks. Now that Hua Cheng isn’t leading him along, he’s crossed his arms over his chest, and he’s staring at Xie Lian with unusual intensity. It doesn’t seem like he could look away if he tried, and Xie Lian feels something the same. It is as though the world is a stage, and Hua Cheng stands illuminated at the center of it, the only thing worth seeing. 

“You gave an awe-inspiring speech,” Hua Cheng says, his voice low. He steps forward, and Xie Lian can feel the weight of his attention like electricity in his blood. 

“You were the one who made me want to give it,” he admits. “It was for you.” 

“I know,” Hua Cheng says. His voice is so quiet, so gentle. “And I think you meant all of it.” 

“I did.” 

They slip into a kiss, one that is gentle and yet drives heat all through Xie Lian’s body. He breaks it only to step forward and wrap his arms around Hua Cheng’s chest. “Thank you,” he whispers. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” 

Hua Cheng hugs him back, and they stand there for a while in quiet comfort. 

“I’m sorry I left,” Xie Lian says because it seems like his tongue has come unmoored from his control, just a little. “I was just… I was scared, I think.”

“I know,” Hua Cheng says and kisses him again. 

“I know it’s not a bad thing. I know it’s important. I just…” 

Hua Cheng shushes him with a gentle hand through his hair. Xie Lian presses his face into Hua Cheng’s shoulder. “I know. You were so brave, Xie Lian. You’ve always been so brave.” 

Xie Lian laughs a little at that. “Not really. I think… I’ve been scared and angry, and self-righteous, and smug, and self-assured. But rarely brave.” 

Hua Cheng shakes his head. Xie Lian mostly feels the motion against the top of his head. “You were brave tonight. You were brave when you came back. You’ve been brave every time I’ve ever seen you.” 

“I think you mean anxious.” 

“But you do it anyway. That means brave.” 

“Would you do that? Talk about your childhood on stage?” 

Hua Cheng smiles. “I’ve been banned from giving interviews, haven’t I?” 

Xie Lian laughs again. They fall into silence, standing there, with the faint hum of voices filtering in from down below. Hua Cheng has taken to rubbing small circles on Xie Lian’s back, and Xie Lian rests his hand over Hua Cheng’s heart, feeling the steady beat of it beneath Hua Cheng’s jacket. Xie Lian’s stomach is full of butterflies again, and it makes him think of the pictures in Hua Cheng’s studio, of Hua Cheng’s sketches, and his delicate fingers. It makes him think of hot days at the cafe and cold nights at Hua Cheng’s apartment and stealing glances on set. It makes him think that this is the happiest he has ever been in his life. 

“What are you thinking about?” Hua Cheng asks. 

“Just… butterflies. And you.”

“Me too,” Hua Cheng whispers. “Me too.”