Chapter 88: Every Time a Flower Blooms, My Heart Stirs
Halftime break.
Shen Jixing casually covered the rose hidden among his long hair and asked Sikong Xiu coolly, “Will it pass the review?”
Sikong Xiu smiled, “It will.”
“I could just cut it all out, leave a single shot. As long as the atmosphere is right, that’s enough.”
“…”
Shen Jixing didn’t understand why a kissing scene needed to be filmed for so long.
He glanced sideways at the man playing with his white hair. “Just leave one shot—why are you pulling back?”
Let Shen Jixing seek him openly, claim him.
It seemed to wound the thin-skinned film king.
Zhou Yili was just about to touch the little rose, but the bud shrank back with a whoosh. “Hey, it dodges?”
Shen Jixing snatched back his hair. Zhou Yili could only answer head-on, “Of course, we need to leave a shot of you taking the initiative. That’s how it shows—”
“My noble status.”
At his words, several pairs of eyes landed on him.
Bear: “Bold!”
Little Mo: “Exactly—bold!”
Bear looked at Little Mo in confusion. “Aren’t you his assistant? Whose side are you on?”
Little Mo grinned. “We’re both marrying into Shen’s household now.”
“…”
Zhou Yili couldn’t be bothered with the two assistants whose intelligence lagged behind his own.
Marrying in—nonsense.
Shen Jixing could only marry him and call him husband.
With that thought, Zhou Yili nudged Shen Jixing’s knee. “Hey, can’t you take the initiative just once?”
He’d been proactive for three days now, and aside from the time Shen Jixing kissed him while giving him the hexagram star, there hadn’t been anything else.
Kissing him wasn’t shameful. Why couldn’t Shen Jixing kiss him more?
Shen Jixing seemed to understand what he was thinking. Like a little lion addicted to kisses, he replied calmly, “I didn’t say I couldn’t. Just tell me ahead of time next time—”
“You’re blooming again!”
Zhou Yili seized the moment, watching every reaction from Shen Jixing.
No anger, no sadness—only calm.
Shen Jixing was speechless for a few seconds, staring at the stubborn little rose, already irritated by this heartbeat detector.
Every flutter of his heart was laid bare.
Luckily, Zhou Yili didn’t know—
Suddenly, his chin was lifted. Zhou Yili was very close, as if he’d heard something faintly, his slender, jointed hand resting gently over Shen Jixing’s heart.
“Star, your heart’s beating so fast.”
…
Night was thick and silent.
The dark castle stood quietly beneath the full moon. The handsome, refined man slept in his wheelchair.
In his memory, that out-of-control vehicle would never stop, a devil’s maw crashing into him, ruthlessly crushing his young legs—
“Musi!”
Bo Yu woke from the nightmare, cold sweat on his face, instinctively calling, “Musi, come here.”
A tall, long-legged bodyguard in black walked in from the doorway, stopped before him, and was about to speak, “First—”
Bo Yu’s heartbeat was erratic, his face pale, nothing like his usual gentle elegance.
“Kneel.” He seemed not yet free from the nightmare that had imprisoned him for life, patting his numb legs, “Lean on me.”
The bodyguard hesitated.
But he dared not disobey. He obediently knelt, carefully leaning onto the legs covered by a thin blanket.
Those pale, cool hands, as in countless nights before, stroked the black hair of the person leaning on his legs.
He craved to be needed.
He sought a different kind of security.
But at the moment of contact, Bo Yu’s palm froze. His voice became sharp, “Who are you?”
The bodyguard, frightened, knelt immediately. “Sir, I am your new chosen bodyguard. Perhaps you’ve forgotten, Mr. Mu is no longer here.”
Mr. Mu is no longer here.
Bo Yu’s hazy amber eyes gradually cleared.
Musi is gone. Star is gone too…
“What are they doing now?” Unable to comfort the person at his knees, Bo Yu played with the amber beads around his wrist, trying desperately to soothe himself out of the nightmare.
The boy was always so good.
When he lay quietly on Bo Yu’s legs, letting himself be stroked, he’d gently grasp Bo Yu’s knee, silently giving him strength, though he said nothing.
Bo Yu, from his lofty perch, could read the boy’s gaze.
He wanted his master to stand.
To have the power to leave pain behind, the courage to be reborn.
That youth once sat beside a trash can amid swirling maple leaves.
Dirty from head to toe, he said, “It’s alright. From now on, I’ll be your legs!”
In the moment Bo Yu’s heart softened.
The bodyguard, trembling, said, “Young master is still filming in Snowfall Town. As for Mr. Mu… Young master found the one responsible and let Mr. Mu go.”
But he didn’t return, nor did he tell the master.
Bo Yu’s gaze suddenly grew cold.
Memories always repeat themselves, time pausing again at the crossroads.
The child he had raised so carefully still chose to stay away.
They went off to live freer lives.
Leaving him to perish alone in endless night.
“Sir, one more thing.” The bodyguard pulled out a delicately gold-trimmed invitation from his pocket. “Second master of Lan’an Sheng family sent this. Tomorrow is his nephew’s birthday. All the city’s elite are invited. Will you attend?”
Bo Yu’s status was exalted; he received more invitations than he could count. Everyone longed for some connection with him.
But every child he’d claimed for himself only wanted to leave.
“From now on, handle such things yourself. No need to ask me.”
Without Musi, he even needed to personally—
“Wait,”
Bo Yu stopped the bodyguard about to leave. “What’s the name of the Sheng family’s young master?”
The bodyguard glanced at the invitation. “Sheng—Sheng Que.”
In the deep, silent night, Bo Yu narrowed his amber eyes, a gloomy smile slowly curving his pale face.
He repeated softly, “Sheng Que.”
A friend of that blue-haired nouveau riche.
“Keep the invitation. Be there on time tomorrow.” Bo Yu wheeled himself toward the bathroom.
He thought, it was time to meet Zhou Yili.
…
The night after filming wrapped.
Since the next day’s scenes were set in the morning, they had to sleep in Snowfall Town.
The moment he finished, Shen Jixing hurried to remove his long hair, finally freed from the weapon that felt like a pardon.
Not an exaggeration.
He simply bloomed too much.
Sikong Xiu was nearly laughing himself into a Christmas Santa.
He even teased as filming ended, “Appearances can be deceiving, Emperor Shen.”
So cold on the surface, so erratic in heartbeat.
Shen Jixing never admitted how much he liked Zhou Yili, but every bloom was proof of his heart’s flutter.
“Relax, I haven’t told him,” Sikong Xiu said.
If Zhou Yili found out, his tail would be wagging to the heavens.
Shen Jixing shed all his makeup, bathed in the bathroom.
When he came out, he saw someone lying on his sofa.
Playing with the white hair he’d left there.
That hair fell to the floor, spread like a silky rug, and Zhou Yili was still persistently studying it.
“Stop playing with that.”
Seeing Zhou Yili’s hand about to touch the sensor, Shen Jixing immediately stopped him.
Zhou Yili tapped the sensor with his finger, teasing, “Then what should I play with?”
Shen Jixing walked over calmly, pulled him off the sofa. The resting area at Snowfall Town was small, so Shen Jixing pushed him onto the bed.
He looked at Zhou Yili with indifferent eyes. “Play with you.”
Zhou Yili: “?”
Those two words seemed oddly seductive; Zhou Yili’s ears flushed, betraying him.
Shen Jixing lowered his gaze. “Let me see your wound.”
As if the words were just casually spoken, but Zhou Yili clearly took them seriously.
“What wound? Look at me first.”
He bent his long leg and nudged him.
“…”
Shen Jixing’s gaze lowered for several seconds, not understanding how his cool, casual words could make Zhou Yili…
“You really are something,” he murmured, lashes trembling lightly.
Zhou Yili carelessly caught his hand, kissed his fingertips, pressed it to his waist.
“Actions speak louder than words.”
“…”
Shen Jixing calculated quickly in his mind. If he got rid of this man now, at least he wouldn’t squat there studying why the little rose bloomed.
His hand, cold as jade, slid down Zhou Yili’s waist, his expression slightly uneasy as he touched him softly.
“…”
Suddenly, Zhou Yili pulled him down, buried his head in Shen Jixing’s neck, letting out a low, sexy groan.
The coarse blue hair prickled Shen Jixing’s neck in tiny, itchy spots; Zhou Yili hid all his emotions.
He bit gently at Shen Jixing’s neck and whispered, “I knew it. You’re crazy about me.”
“So every bloom is your heart beating for me.”
The sensor was now on Zhou Yili’s wrist.