T: Shu Anruo - Tumblr Posts

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ for @xinxiins / continued from here

one thing that shu anruo secretly wishes people know about her is that she actually doesn't quite like having her name called. it would mean something is to be expected of her, and in this field she works in where mistakes could easily be done -- especially irreversible ones --, she thinks she has since developed a superpower of instantly recalling every single thing she's done in the past two hours to see what exactly she could've done wrong that would result in another round of angry finger pointing of some angry crew member every time she hears her name called.

"en, i hope you're not disappointed." an attempt of a joke slips out as she tries to keep her expression neutral at the sight of his smile, realizing a second too late that maybe her tone isn't exactly right enough to be considered as joking. her lips purse, wondering silently if her name has always sounded that nice, or does it only sound nice because it's him? and maybe -- just maybe -- she wouldn't be opposed to having her name called often if it's him--

"are you ready? or do you need more time to..." she waves vaguely, gesturing at him and whatever he's doing before pointing backwards with her thumb in the direction of the fitting room. "i've gotten everything ready in there, so we still have a few more moments to spare."

she blinks, somehow a pickup line flying across her mind -- she blames it on the fact that she's been researching pickup lines for the upcoming update on her weekly fanfiction work, and anruo is glad when she hasn't accidentally blurted that out instead, which wouldn't be too hard of a thing to do with the kind of smile that hangs on jinyue's face. "anruo... jiao wo anruo jiu xing..." she replies, nodding a little.

gaze slightly widened at his laugh, and she purses her lips again as if trying not to laugh too -- it's almost a little too easy to laugh when a cute guy is laughing -- though if she did have any thoughts of joining along, that thought is immediately shot down as she follows the direction of his gesture and catches sight of his manager. leng jing shu anruo... leng jing... with another small list of possible faults made in the past hour making itself apparent in her mind, she only clears her throat softly before finally leading the way with a certain blanketed puppy right along.

once they're inside, anruo's barely turned around to grab the clothes she's prepared for him, when her body reacts faster than her brain by already reaching out a hand when he all but collapses into the chair, somehow in fear that he is to pass out. fortunately, he isn't. unfortunately, she thinks he looks like he's close to. brows furrowed as she stares at him, her outstretched arm drops, before raises again. what would the characters in her novels do, when someone says they're not feeling well... what should she do...

"shi li le," there's only a heartbeat of hesitation, before she brushes away his bangs away lightly, the back of her hand placed against his forehead then, her other free hand on hers. "ni... hai hao ma?" it's a stupid question, just as her attempt of trying to gauge if he's had a fever is either. dropping her hands soon when she couldn't tell the difference, she only shakes her head. "do you want me to get your manager here? ...ta zhidao ma?"

"disappointed ? never ! actually, i'm grateful." ān jīnyuè sits up straighter, tugging the blanket up around his shoulders, and smiles warmly up at her, soft dimples punctuating each cheek. "everyone here works so hard --- xièxiè a ... " he trails off, pursing his lips thoughtfully, " ... how would you like me to call you ?"

the laugh at the insinuation that he needs more time to lethargically scroll on his phone is a genuine one --- no doubt befitting a compilation of his giggles that netizens seem to enjoy so much. "bù xūyào, bù xūyào !" he chuckles, standing slowly. the blanket, it seems, is going nowhere; it's as if he intends to remain wrapped in it until he's made to remove it. over in the corner, his no-nonsense manager ( who has a particular knack for ordering him about, despite being only less than a year older than jīnyuè himself ) is glaring daggers at him from behind a clipboard. jīnyuè laughs again and waves at him, then gestures to shu anruo, indicating that he means to follow along behind her.

it's only once they're inside the relative privacy of the fitting room that jīnyuè's smile falters ever so slightly, taking on a nature that's more apologetic than anything else. it's so, so stupid of him, and he knows it, but as he sinks into the nearest chair, he can't help but think about a fan fiction he'd read the other day over a glass of evening wine --- one in which the reader was meant to imagine themselves looking after him on a day just like this. it's just that ... he's never really had that, has he --- and in this moment, truthfully, there's very little he wants more than for life to imitate art.

āiyā ... ān jīnyuè, ān jīnyuè, nǐ zhège shǎbī ...

"bùhǎoyìsi," he murmurs, peering up at shu anruo with an expression that borders on guilty. "wǒ ... wǒ juédé bú shūfú jīntiān. i'm sorry if that makes more work for you. i'll make it up to you --- promise."

you see, the thing about being a writer is that one gets observant. and it's hard not to have her full attention on the only other person in the room. one, he's good looking. two, he still looks somewhat sick despite his reassurance. three, something about him -- is it the look on his face? dazzling smile and all despite his earlier confession of not feeling well, or is it something else that anruo couldn't quite place -- has her feeling like she wants to explore more. call it the writer's instinct. at least that's what she's convincing herself it to be when she reaches out once again, touching the back of her hand to his forehead again, "baoqian..." she mumbles, an apologetic tone taking place.

usually she would tell herself it doesn't really make any difference, taking pity for a celebrity for enduring long hours of work despite not feeling well, since almost all crew members on set go through the same thing, for a way lesser pay. but it doesn't make her feel any better to think that way, suffering is suffering, regardless of status. "i took a look at your filming schedule for today, if all goes well, you should be done by dinner time." she starts, pulling her hand away again, her hand too cool for her to tell if he's as fine as he insists, despite the sore throat. "but if it helps in the meantime... i have some honey tea with me. ruguo ni yaodehua, keyi gei ni shishi... zhishao haohe yixie!" she nods solemnly, eyes looking at him all earnestly as if trying to gain his trust.

slightly startled by the knocks, shu anruo turns towards the direction of the door. jinyue's manager's words pass through her brain without registering themselves on it, her mind too occupied with the feathery sensation of his fingers on her skin. if she were to write this down, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say it has light shivers traveling down her spine. such a tempting thought would be brushed away quick, if not for his next words that has her feeling like some kind of mush inside. it's merely an invitation -- no, not even that, she's supposed to doing her job and he's doing this, but those words, coming from him, has her yearning to get her hands on her laptop and type furiously away for another cliche but classic episode of prince-and-princess-running-away-from-a-boring-ball kind of story.

"zouba," anruo returns the smile, before moving to grab the set of clothes he's meant to change into, "let's get you changed quick, and i'll get you the tea. it's going to taste nice, i promise."

how embarrassing: to have just met someone ( a pretty girl, no less ! ) whom he'll be working with closely over the foreseeable future, and to be in this sort of state ! though ān jīnyuè is an actor, his intrinsic nature is honest --- so much so that, unless he's making a conscious effort otherwise, his face ( or, at a minimum, his eyes ) have a tendency to telegraph his emotions, even when he'd rather keep them private. and so, when anruo reaches out for him the first time --- and especially the second --- a series of expressions play across his face: first surprise, then a combination of gratitude and relief; by the time her hand settles against his forehead, he looks ... peaceful.

( ān jīnyuè knows a few things. first, he knows he did have a fever this morning; yán tuò had said it was 38.5c --- before scolding him for not taking proper care of himself, and forcing him to drink several cups of what ān jīnyuè could only guess was some sort of folksy home remedy. second, he knows he's taken enough paracetamol to mitigate it, at least for awhile. and third, he knows that neither of those things matter, because being on the receiving act of such a wholesome and genuine display of concern from a beautiful girl is enough to make him blush so fiercely that his face would inevitably wind up warm to the touch anyway.

by the time anruo pulls her hand away, ān jīnyuè is smiling. )

"bié dānxīn," he says, eyes flicking up briefly as if recalling the ghost of her touch against his skin ( god, he really needs to stop reading sappy romances on jjwxc. or get out more. or touch grass. or ... something. ) "wǒ méishì." a beat, and then, "xièxiè a, anruo ... "

( if the cameras were rolling, this is the sort of moment that might start rumors on social media. )

" --- tā zhīdào." ān jīnyuè puffs out his cheeks in a look of irritation. somehow, it manages to be charming. "he made me drink some folk remedy from his hometown. it was --- " he lowers his voice, as if afraid yán tuò might somehow overhear him speaking, " --- objectively one of the worst things i've ever had. and it didn't even work !" a chuckle. "wǒ de hóulóng réngrán tòng, āiyā ... tài tòngkǔle !"

from outside, there's a series of three raps on the door, punctuated by a sigh that's intentionally exaggerated. "ān jīnyuè !" it's yán tuò. "kuàidiǎn ! why are you so slow at getting changed ? don't you own so many clothes ?"

by now, ān jīnyuè's face is written in an expression of mirth; he's practically shoved a fist against his mouth to keep from laughing aloud, the fingers of his other hand brushing gently against anruo's wrist in a silent gesture of reassurance. "bùhǎoyìsi," he calls back, then winces, as if it hurt to project his voice. being acknowledged seems to placate yán tuò, who sighs audibly and stomps off.

ān jīnyuè's gaze turns back to anruo; he stands slowly, giving her a soft half-smile, then gestures towards the clothes. "anruo," he says warmly, "shall we ?"

shu anruo is not an adventurous person, at least not in physical practice and even then, very seldom it's due to pure voluntary self motivation to be so. she has always found safety and comfort in the same old familiar things, especially when it comes to food. however this job demands her to step out of her comfort zone, threatens to snatch her out of it. from something as small as meeting and working with strangers every day, to bigger ones like facing renowned celebrities and tolerating their snobbish attitude off cameras, or coming online to being swarmed by endless messages of "why did you dress laogong/laopo like this!", it seems as most things go unmentioned and unappreciated, and for someone who wishes to be invisible to put in more effort would prove to be growingly exhausting when it is returned with half-hearted nods or a simple brush-off.

very rare it is that someone, at jinyue's level of popularity and status, remains genuine.

to have him actually taking her up on her offer (and thanking her!) is already surprising --- she's worked with some artists who are way cautious of being poisoned, knowingly or unknowingly --- and to get offered in return? anruo thinks this might be her one of her luckiest day at work. not quite recalling what a jinhou cha is right away, she merely nods, silently betting on the fact that he doesn't seem like one to forget what he said.

suddenly remembering that she must be grinning like an idiot now just because of one silly promise that could easily be forgotten just like anything else, she barely has the mind to spare when she's now hyper-aware of what he's just done.

as a writer, she knows nothing is ever not intentional. as an actor, she thinks he should know every single thing, every small action is designed detail by detail for the best effect on screen. whatever else that isn't, is just dangerous. once he's out of sight and well inside the changing room, anruo cups her own face with her hands, feet stomping lightly as if that could shake the chills running down from her.

thousands of question marks float around her in pink clouds, and while she's busy convincing herself this is why good looking guys are always a mood booster, the door finally opens and reveals an jinyue, also known as the reason anruo thinks maybe her job isn't so bad after all, despite everything else.

"oh, it's meant to be like that," she answers rather casually, as if he's just dressed in a lousy hoodie and jeans. but she's staring (rather shamelessly), and she's glad she has her hair down today to conceal her ears that are burning. "it...fits you better than i'd thought." she manages, ignoring the words flowing through her mind that would be a little inappropriate to say out loud. this is not the cheesy f.anfiction she writes, but the outfit is tight at all the right places and ---

greeted with his grin, anruo finally remembers what jinhou cha is. "shuai..!" she probably needs it soon, or else she thinks her heart is going to combust. see? good looking guys are dangerous. they're not good for your heart.

"zhende hen haokan..." nodding while holding a thumbs-up, she steps closer to him. to examine his outfit, of course, "i think you're going to end up on the real time trending search again."

most people would've done little more than ask him if he's all right; very few --- outside yán tuò, that is, who's always doing his best impression of a stern older brother --- would go so far as to feel his forehead. the fact that anruo's done it twice, now, is truly unprecedented territory. but it's not unwelcome. of all the things ān jīnyuè wants in this world, someone who cares about him genuinely as a person, even the littlest bit, or for the briefest of moments, is perhaps his greatest wish of all. and so, he can do not much more than beam up at the apology. "méishì méishì !" he laughs, "don't apologize."

the offer of tea is met with an even brighter smile than before; after all, it's no secret that ān jīnyuè has a particular love of tea --- and honey tea sounds particularly wonderful today, when it feels like he must've somehow swallowed glass overnight. "é ? zhēnde ma ? if you're willing to share ... xièxiè a." his tone is warm and sweet, much like honey itself; though he's an actor, there's no faking the genuineness in it. "i'll bring you something from my collection, too ... jīn hóu chá. it's really good."

and then, ān jīnyuè does this ... thing: it's subtle --- just a light brushing of his fingertips against the small of her back as he steps past her in the small space.

( it's not until he's stepped into the privacy of the changing room that his brain catches up with what his body's doing, and he turns red as a tomato again, forehead hitting lightly against the wall with a soft thunk of embarrassment. )

--- admittedly, ān jīnyuè looks good in costume dramas; there's a reason he's been one of the most highly-sought-after male leads for some of the biggest-budget productions of the year. he was born to humble origins in this life, but to hear yán tuò brag, one might think his client may as well have been born a song dynasty prince. though, on this particular occasion, it seems the director has taken some liberties with his outfit's composition --- which is why when ān jīnyuè bursts out of the changing room a moment later, he looks on the verge of laughter, struggling to hold back and biting down on his lower lip as if for dear life.

"wèishénme ? " oh, if he starts giggling now, it's going to be bad; the outfit fits so tightly he can't help but wonder if the budget ran out right as it was being sewn together. the director knows her audience well --- and perhaps appreciates her male lead's figure just as much as they do; for this scene, it seems ān jīnyuè's chest will be on full display. "zhè ... zhè shì shénme a ? why ... aren't there ... doesn't this have more layers ? did i do it wrong ?"

he spends a moment examining his reflection in front of the mirror, lips pursed in thought. and then, he turns back to anruo and grins.

"anruo ... wǒ shuài ma ?"

"en! the costume design team was really proud of this outfit, you know. you're doing it justice." his response garners a little amused laugh from her. of course it's intentionally so, and the director knows her target audience well enough to know what fans would expect. and anruo herself would unapologetically fall into that category, and such an outfit already has her looking forward to how it would look like when it's finally on screen post-production. just the sneak peak she's gotten now already has her feeling giddy, if she even dared to admit.

it's not until they're standing side by side that she realizes just how tall he is compared to her, and she makes a mental note to ask him for a picture later. (because the outfit is amazing and she should get one in before the other crew members swamp him up and she loses her chance, that is!) maybe he'd even put an arm around her shoulders and she's get to lean it a bit closer and it'd definitely end up on her top picture of the year --

she glances away for a moment in case he needed any privacy -- not that it works, as she's back to staring at him again and coming to a conclusion in her mind that all those compilation videos of him doing whatever cute things does not even come close to seeing it in person. and she thinks she's going to be done for if she so much as think that he's cute once again (and how is it even possible to find someone blowing their nose out cute...) being a stylist means working with artists all the time, and there's plenty of attractive people, yet she still finds him the cutest of them all, and it hasn't even been an hour yet since they start talking.

"shengbingle yeshi haokande." anruo says matter-of-factly, turning sideways to face him and she debates if trying to convince him that she really means what she said is worthy of an effort, before deciding against it. he's probably heard enough compliments that hers would sound just like another unnecessary one. "the fans will definitely find it cute. once the behind the scenes footage gets released, i can already see videos of you dominating my w.eibo feed again." a teasing smile settles on her lips, as she shrugs a shoulder a little. she wouldn't complain if that's the case, and surely one gif or two would end up saved in her phone.

what he asked next catches her by surprise, not quite expecting it. (just what was she even expecting, in fact...) "i do...?" a pause, before she continues, a bit wary, "do... do you mean f.anfiction?" she's seen video clips of him admitting to having read those, but she's always had the benefits of doubt -- after all, who would willingly read such cheesy things sometimes? granted, she couldn't even read her own writings sometimes and -- wait, did he just say he wishes it to be real??!

anruo blinks, eyes darting sideways trying to make sense of his words. it oddly feels embarrassing, but at least with tons of those scrambled around the internet, the chances of him having come across hers is nearly none. with that in mind, she's a tad bit more relaxed. "it's not weird though. and i think there's a lot of people who would line up just to take care of you." herself included, even if the most she could now is just getting him that honey tea later. "i know i'm not at the place to say this but you don't have to apologize for being sick. you shouldn't have to."

what's fortunate is that she's saved from having to explain herself further, realizing that she's simply a nobody and shouldn't be commenting more than necessary when yan tuo enters the room. somehow disappointed that their little moment in the small room is disrupted, she barely shows enough energy to greet the manager. "not sure how that's fortunate, but sure." she mumbles, moving to grab the next outfit, having already remembered the shooting sequence. it's unfortunate, that they will only have one scene.

now she definitely needs to get a picture with this outfit as soon as she could.

" ... meant to be like this ? so ... it's ... it's intentionally so ... ?" ān jīnyuè trails off, the gesture he makes conveying the implied meaning in his question. he's never shied away from showing some skin on-screen, but there wasn't exactly anything in the script to suggest that he should've expected this sort of an outfit today.

but whatever he'd been mulling over regarding outfits ( or ratings boosts, or the sorts of things this director --- he's worked with her before --- is known to like from her male leads ) all falls away the moment anruo answers his question in the affirmative. the minute that shuài falls from her lips, he breaks into the sweetest, most genuine smile.

"nǎlǐ nǎlǐ ... nǐ guòjiǎngle." the distance she'd begun to close, he finishes, stepping beside her and turning back towards the mirror; though he studies both their reflections, there's no denying the way his expression softens upon looking at hers. she's been so genuinely kind to him. someday, the chance to repay that kindness tenfold will present itself, and he fully intends to take it.

( plus, she's so pretty, isn't she. he wouldn't mind having an opportunity to get to know her better outside of work ... )

"wǒ shì bìngle." though he's trying his best to play it off, there's a brief hint of glumness creeping into ān jīnyuè's voice. he reaches for his discarded sweatpants, fishing through the pockets for a mostly-empty pack of tissues. "wǒ jīntiān bù tài shuài. nǐ kànkàn --- " he blows his nose ( apologizes sheepishly first, of course ), then steps back, gesturing to his face. " --- this is what i'll trend for."

sure enough, his poor nose is red. ān jīnyuè laughs again; though it sounds progressively more husky and rough, he doesn't let it stop him. "i'll sound crazy for this, but ... do you ever read stories people write ? like ... on the internet ? someone wrote one once, about me ... about someone taking care of me on a shit day. sometimes i wish that story could be real." a pensive pause, and then he chuckles. "sorry ! that sounds insane, i know. forget i said it ! and don't tell yán tuò i thought his home remedy didn't work. it's not his fault i didn't take better care of myself."

"yán tuò shì ma ?" it's nobody other than yán tuò himself. this time, he doesn't knock --- he simply opens the door and stares at the two of them, his gaze shifting from ān jīnyuè to anruo and back again. and then the corners of his lips twitch, like he's fighting back a knowing grin. "you two. time's up. come with me. měinv --- " a gesture at anruo, "if you'll bring his next outfit out as well ? he only shoots one scene in this one --- " a pause for effect, a pointed look at ān jīnyuè, " --- fortunately."

@xinxiins / continued from here

[ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：？ [ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：zěnme háiméishuì？ [ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：thought you mentioned you had a full filming day today?

[ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：couple more weeks to go... [ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：that gives me enough time to find a good restaurant for when you're back so we can celebrate shāqīng on our own too [ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：if you'd like, of course? and also with yán tuò gē too 🤔

there's a small pause before she replies again, pondering over an idea as she buries herself deeper in her bed, pushing away the laptop that she's spent the past couple of hours typing at.

[ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：i've been doing some reading~ i usually sleep late [ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：and regret the next morning... 😖 [ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：if you can't sleep... have you heard of this thing then? [ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：they say if you can't sleep at night, it's because you're running through someone's mind?

[ to: 小小蜜桃 🤗 ]: it was a full day ... we're almost finished with the whole thing actually. couple more weeks to go ... it'll be released by the end of the year c: [ to: 小小蜜桃 🤗 ]: wǒ shuì bùzháo :ccc nǐ ne ?

yán tuò snorts in his sleep. he must be dreaming of arguing with someone; ān jīnyuè swears he hears a cào in there somewhere. he laughs softly and shakes his head --- leave it to yán tuò to still be working ( and sassing ) even in his dreams.

[ to: 小小蜜桃 🤗 ]: it's weirdly lonely here at night.

[ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：[ sent an image ]

making a mental note to text yan tuo sometime soon to see if there's anything that jinyue's mentioned more frequently lately, anruo takes a moment to look for a meme to reply with, buying herself some time as she contemplates her reply. she can't exactly tell him she's writing his f.anfic now, can she?

[ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：says the one who's not sleeping after a full busy day too... 🤨 [ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：just some online novels haha these things are strangely addictive [ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：pretty sure a lot of people would be thinking about you now [ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：kělián wǒmen jīnyuè le 🙊🙊bùnéng shuìjiào zěnmebàn ā 🙊🙊

she chews on her bottom lip, brows furrowing a bit trying to come up with a few possible faces that could be thinking of her this late into the night.

[ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：honestly, this is my first time thinking about that [ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：i wonder who that would be... if i know them, ig i would tell them to not think about me instead... we all need our sleep 😖 [ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：they must be tired too :(

[ to: 小小蜜桃 🤗 ]: i'd love to ! you pick, my treat 😁😊 [ to: 小小蜜桃 🤗 ]: and i'm sure tuò-gē would too. he's been working extra hard. i know he'd love to join 🥺

outside, it's begun to rain lightly, the night sky briefly illuminated by lightning flashes. ān jīnyuè tugs the blankets up to just beneath his chin, smiling softly at each incoming text. he tries to picture how she might look right now: perhaps wearing pajamas, curled up in bed like he is ? it's probably so comfortingly warm, and ---

[ to: 小小蜜桃 🤗 ]: aaahhh ! 😟 please rest early and get enough sleep ... if you get sick i'll be so worried 😟😭 what are you reading about ?? [ to: 小小蜜桃 🤗 ]: i hadn't heard of that ... i wonder who would be thinking of me at this hour though ? it's so late ( early ? ) ... 🤔

he types out another message, then hesitates, his finger hovering over the 'send' button for several moments before he works up the courage to tap it:

[ to: 小小蜜桃 🤗 ]: have you ever thought that maybe you sometimes stay up late because someone was thinking of you too ... ? 👀

for the next few moments as shu anruo stands some distance away -- close enough for her to still keep her gaze on jinyue easily -- and pretends she's on standby for whatever last minute favors that anyone might need from her, her mind has already drifted back to jinyue's last words to her moments earlier.

"yǒu yītiān wǒ..." -- what?

ironic enough that as someone who specializes in cliffhangers, there's nothing that irks her just enough than cliffhangers. she chews on the inside of her cheek, trying to come up with likely guesses of just what jinyue couldn't finish in time. it would be a lie to say she doesn't have some guesses, but to assume so is too wild of an idea. plus, she finds it just a bit hard to believe that he looks forward to something that people write to fulfill their own fantasies. herself included. it's almost like for someone like him, there isn't any fantasy that he couldn't reach, or doesn't already have.

her attempts of trying to convince herself proves to be of no use, and she mostly blames it on the fact that he's been her celebrity crush for too long, that every single expression he makes weighs a bit heavier on her heart. and when jinyue disappears from her line of sight, she almost wants to follow, before reminding herself that it's not her place to do so. though, she could always use her job as an excuse --

yan tuo's appearance succeeds in halting the brief moment of weakness that has her contemplating some very stalker-ish and totally unprofessional behavior, and anruo turns to him, not quite surprised to see his displeased look. it only got her all the more concerned about jinyue's leaving, that is.

"zěn me le?" she asks, a concerned look crossing her unknowingly, "jinyue qù nǎ er le? tā hái hǎo ma?"

remembering her manners a second too late, she's quick to return the handshake, head bowing a bit in sheepish apology, "bào qiàn, i'm shu anruo, stylist. i asked too much, didn't i?" the compliment -- if that is even the right word to put it -- catches her off guard, and her eyes widened. in her twenty plus years of life, never has she ever been described as such. quiet and kind, sure. responsible and caring, maybe very occasionally. but hé'ǎi? now that sure is something else. "haha... i guess that's a good thing...? wǒ yě hěn xǐ huan tā, who doesn't?" a small, shy smile appears; she supposes his manager wouldn't be lying-- and even if it's just a half-hearted compliment, it still pleases her more than she'd thought.

though ān jīnyuè's hardly known anruo for long, there's something so genuine and sweet about her that it's impossible to miss. she treats him differently than most others do, too, but in a good way --- as if he's just a normal person. she doesn't use overly-formal or stilted language with him; she doesn't tiptoe awkwardly around him and try to avoid him --- nor does she violate his personal space using her job as an excuse, or hound him for an autograph or a custom video to post to her w.eibo. ān jīnyuè has no shortage of acquaintances, both personal and professional, but he has painfully few genuine relationships of any sort.

( it's decided, then, he thinks: he wants to continue to know her even after filming for this show is finished --- in whatever capacity she'll allow him. )

the sweet reassurance makes him smile again --- and her surprise that he reads those sort of things gets another cheery laugh out of him. "it's true, you know," he chuckles, "i do read those things ... and i do wish some of them could be real. but ... " he trails off, expression growing pensive; when he speaks again, his voice is far softer, more introspective. "i don't want it with just anyone. nǐ ... nǐ míngbái wǒ ma ? yǒu yītiān wǒ --- "

--- he doesn't get to finish the thought before yán tuò's interruption, and yán tuò wastes no time in whisking him out of the fitting room, his grip on ān jīnyuè's upper arm firm as he tugs him back out into the staging area. though yán tuò's expression is no-nonsense, there's no denying the tender concern in his eyes as he gives ān jīnyuè a scrutinizing once-over.

the scene that follows is the sort of thing that's made it into some of ān jīnyuè's most well-known b.ts footage before, if only because his fans love to speculate. yán tuò smooths the front of ān jīnyuè's outfit, tucking an errant strand of hair out of ān jīnyuè's face. then he gestures, and ān jīnyuè leans down for yán tuò to whisper something in his ear; whatever it is, ān jīnyuè nods. for the first time all day ( and only because he thinks he can't be seen well enough ), ān jīnyuè's expression falls. by now, they're too far away for the interchange that follows to be clearly heard, aside from the echo of ān jīnyuè sneezing several times in a row; yán tuò appears to ask nǐ méishì ba, to which ān jīnyuè shakes his head no --- it's a subtle gesture, but if one were to watch closely, it's unmistakable. yán tuò's shoulders heave visibly with a sigh. he digs through the backpack he's got slung over one shoulder, eventually producing a water bottle, some sort of medicine, and a mask. ān jīnyuè downs the former and dons the latter, then trails off wordlessly behind a waiting assistant while yán tuò glares daggers at someone who'd been filming the two of them on their cellphone.

it's only when ān jīnyuè's disappeared off to the set that yán tuò comes wandering back over to anruo, lips pressed in a thin, unamused line. " wèishénme ? wèi. shén. me ! wèishénme yào lù nàgè shìpín ?" he starts, so upset that he stomps in place a little. "he's miserable and embarrassed ! who would watch this ? wǒ hěn shēngqì a !"

yán tuò spends a moment longer grumbling under his breath in a dialect that must be from his hometown, then sighs heavily and turns to anruo. "duìbuqǐ," he says, holding out a hand in offering. "i'm yán tuò, his manager. i ... get a little upset when people don't care enough about him. you're shu anruo, duì ma ?" a beat, and then he grins. "tā yǐjīng xǐhuān nǐ le, zhīdào ma ? tā shuō nǐ hěn ... " a pause for effect, "hé'ǎi."

[ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：very funny 🤨 [ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：[ sent an image ] [ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：it's... cringy rather than cute. it'd probably just keep you more awake :(

anruo is fairly sure that something cute definitely does not help in falling asleep quicker, if so, she would've already fallen asleep hours earlier and not still thinking -- and writing -- about the exact person she's texting now.

[ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：zhēnde zhēnde bù kěnéng

there's no hesitation when she replies, and as she stares at the [ 183帅哥小狗 is typing... ] message on top of the conversation, mild impatience stirs in her restlessly. when the messages finally come, she sits up straighter, almost hitting her head against the bed's headboard.

[ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：[ sent an image ] [ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：wǒ bù zhīdào 😔 [ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：but what i do know is, it only matters if i happen to be thinking about the same guy too

his questions didn't fail to make her heartbeat spike up this late at night, and if that isn't enough to make her lose even more sleep, anruo is sure she still would be spending the rest of the night trying to tell him in a subtle-but-not-so-subtle way that she really doesn't care who may like her if it's not him and without telling him that she does adore him more than a fan.

[ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：if not... i'd rather not know [ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：does that make sense?

ān jīnyuè only barely contains a giggle at the picture she's sent --- animal memes, as far as he's concerned, may as well be a love language in their own right. naturally, he "love" reacts it ( and starts scrolling through his own collection of cute cat memes, of which he has far more than he'd like to admit. )

[ to: 小小蜜桃 🤗 ]: i don't get sick ( except for that one time, shh. that was "flu-ke" ... haha. 🤓 ) so don't worry. 😉 [ to: 小小蜜桃 🤗 ]: what's it about ? is it cute ? maybe something cute will help me sleep.

( the next texts have him blushing so hard he can feel the heat radiating off his cheeks. )

[ to: 小小蜜桃 🤗 ]: [ sent an image ] zhēnde ma ? bù kěnéng ... shì shéi a ? 👀👀👀

he tries to type a response for the longest time, but keeps deleting it, too shy and self-conscious of not picking exactly the right words. at long last, he manages to work up the courage to hit send.

[ to: 小小蜜桃 🤗 ]: i bet there's a guy out there who really likes you. i bet that guy thinks about you every night when he goes to bed, and every morning when he wakes up, too. i couldn't blame him ... nǐ fēicháng kě'ài 😊 [ to: 小小蜜桃 🤗 ]: dàn ... tā shì shéi ... ? zhīdào ma ? 👀

( maybe it's silly, but his heart is beating a little faster as his finger hovers over the 'send' button. )

[ to: 小小蜜桃 🤗 ]: [ sent an image ]

shu anruo blinks, and once the initial surprise at the unexpected revelation from yan tuo, something that feels heavy settles in her chest instead with a replay of jinyue's unfinished sentence earlier in her mind. "i'm sure everyone cares, they probably just haven't had the chance to ask you yet..." it's a weak reasoning on behalf of everyone else, the more sensible part of herself realizing that there really isn't any point in trying to put in a good word or two, but it doesn't stop her from trying either way, all for the tiny hope that maybe it would make things better somehow. anruo nods solemnly, having always known that an jinyue is a workaholic, but to see him like this... it doesn't exactly make her feel nice. "are they... are they overworking him?" she asks softly, but not without a wary glance at their surroundings; it's not something that she expects an answer to, considering the industry they work in, but still.

and then, cliffhangers again. yan tuo's words did nothing but have her all the more intrigued to know just what else an jinyue has in mind, she's tempted to ask the other again, but she doubts yan tuo would tell her. although not knowing bothers her just a tad bit, she's in a slightly better mood. like yan tuo said, she'll wait for jinyue to tell her. someday. that day will come, she hopes.

anruo doesn't cheer along, only stares in the direction that jinyue went off earlier. no one else is rushing in and with how loud the cheers are, at least one thing they can be sure of is that he hasn't injured himself. not that she has doubts for his professionalism and skills anyway. silently agreeing with yan tuo as she nods again, anruo soon excuses herself and turns to find the rest of the costume design team.

xiǎoyuè jiāyóu, she thinks.

somehow anruo finds herself wandering back near yan tuo again as the day gets darker and there isn't much left for her to do right at that moment, except waiting for jinyue, that is. waiting for his costume, she corrects herself mentally. when he finally returns, she looks up from her phone and is on her feet almost immediately, the tumbler with honey tea in it she has been holding onto almost slipping out of her grip. she could only hope it's still warm enough --

"i think i said earlier that you don't have to apologize," anruo replies, her voice barely masking her displease and concern. the tingling sensation from his little touch is still present when the same hand moves to grip his arm, stopping him in his path. "let me do my job, i can help you change. kěyǐ ma?" worried that he's not going to accept her help, she looks toward yan tuo, silently pleading for help.

her questions seem to momentarily stun yán tuò; he looks outright surprised at first, before his expression melts into something far softer and more relieved. "did you know," he starts quietly, "that you're the first one here who's cared all day ? out of this whole crew ? the very first." he pauses, then, lips pressed into a thin, worried line. "tā bú shūfú," he says glumly. "he shouldn't be anywhere but in bed reading one of those silly romances he likes so much, but you know --- " a vague, frustrated gesture, " --- deadlines. they tell him he can dub over his voice in post-production, and then they just ... send him off. and of course he does it. being a top star is only partly about looks --- he's handsome, of course, but he works very, very hard. being a lazy asshole gets you nowhere, no matter how handsome you are."

yán tuò falls quiet briefly, as if lost in thought --- though anruo's next words easily garner his attention. he turns back to her, grinning. "it's a good thing. he had nothing but good things to say about you. his adjectives were much more ... emphatic than mine --- but i'll let him say it to you himself, someday. when he gets his voice back, that is."

a huff. yán tuò stares down at his watch, then paces around for awhile. the only indication as to what's going on with ān jīnyuè is a series of shouts ( likely from the director ), a tense silence --- and then a thunderous round of applause and cheers; somewhere, ān jīnyuè has no doubt pulled off another difficult stunt in one take, with no stunt double. "xiǎoyuè jiāyóu !" yán tuò says with a smile, hands clasped against his chest, "tā shì fēicháng, fēicháng yǒu cáihuá ... "

--- hours pass. the temperature gradually drops, sun dipping lower and lower behind the horizon. gradually, members of the crew drift out of the studio. yán tuò falls asleep in a nearby folding chair.

and then, at long last, ān jīnyuè returns.

he's still dressed in the outfit from before ( it would appear that, for whatever reason, they never did make it past shooting that scene ), though it's now damp with sweat. he walks slowly, as if he's utterly drained, exhausted eyes peering glumly over the top of a medical mask; when he's a few meters away from anruo and yán tuò, he pauses to cough painfully into his elbow, frowning in discomfort as he rubs his throat. the cough startles yán tuò awake immediately, and he runs to jīnyuè's side to try to support him, though jīnyuè declines the offer with a shake of his head.

ān jīnyuè stops just short of anruo, brows knitted in a look of regret. he looks far worse for wear than he had this morning. "anruo," he begins hesitatingly, gaze downcast, head hanging in shame, "duìbùqĭ. i ... you don't need to bother with me when i'm in this state. i can get changed on my own. fàngxīn ba ... wǒ huì dé xiǎoxīn."

( when he steps past her, he dares to reach out ever so slightly, and lets the tips of his fingers brush against her wrist. )

it takes her a while to reply, typing up a response and then erasing everything, repeat for another few times before finally settling on one:

[ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：i'd say he's more than all the things that you said. [ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：tā shì gè hěn hǎo de rén

a sigh escapes anruo, somehow at a short of words even though she's always thought she has never had any faced any real blockers when it comes to describing just how good of a person an jinyue is, and what he means to her. when his next message arrives, the sudden impulsive thought of messing with him comes just in time, and maybe she wants to see just how he would react:

[ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：wǒ zhēn de bù zhī dào ā，rú guǒ bú shi n

the thumbnail of the video is more than enough for her, and before she even watches the entire thing, she's already dropped her phone from her hands before finishing typing with a surprised little yelp. not because of the ... nudity of course -- she's seen the video numerous times before to get semi used to it -- but for what he's implying.

[ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：[ sent an image ]

she picks her phone back up, exiting the application and reentering several times again to see if he's deleted the message-- maybe he's sent the wrong thing -- and when she finally sees the last message, the grin that spreads across her face is unmistakable.

[ to: 183帅哥小狗 ]：looks like i'm thinking of the right person then... 🥰

[ to: 小小蜜桃 🤗 ]: hey, there's nothing wrong with cringy sometimes. i'm cringy sometimes. 🤓 but i won't pry ! 😉

he leans in closer to the phone screen, so close that his nose is practically pressed against it. in some of the romance dramas he's filmed before, this is the part where the female lead would be given some sort of heavenly sign that he's thinking of her.

( too bad real life isn't like a romance drama ... )

[ to: 小小蜜桃 🤗 ]: what sort of guy is the guy you're thinking about, can i ask ? is he kind to you ? is he handsome ? does he look after you ? [ to: 小小蜜桃 🤗 ]: if he gives you a hard time, i'll kick him in the teeth ! wǒ ... wǒ xuéle gōngfū ! POW ! 😡💢 [ to: 小小蜜桃 🤗 ]: [ sent an image ]

yán tuò grumbles something petulantly in his sleep; it breaks the nervous tension just enough that ān jīnyuè remembers to breathe --- and works up the courage to send a few more messages.

[ to: 小小蜜桃 🤗 ]: nǐ zhēnde bù zhīdào tā shì shéi a ? hǎo a, wǒ gàosù nǐ. zhège nánrén ...

if she's been paying any attention to her w.eibo feed since he started filming this drama, she's probably already seen it, but ---

[ to: 小小蜜桃 🤗 ]: [ sent a video ] [ to: 小小蜜桃 🤗 ]: ... shì tā. 🤭

૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა for @xinxiins / continued from here

sometimes shu anruo thinks the best and worst thing about her is that she doesn't get sick easily. or to be exact, she doesn't get sick enough to the point that she could call in sick to work and not feel guilty about it one way or another. trying not to allow herself to fall down the rabbit hole of thinking maybe she's just being a crybaby over dumb reasons like getting into another argument-but-not-really...thing with her parents before leaving that her body has finally taken a toll of it somehow.

the other reason why she couldn't skip work materializes in front of her; slightly dumbfounded, she accepts the box carefully, a smile already growing just seeing him. "did you make this yourself?" curiosity gets the better of her, and she peels open the lid to peek at the content inside. "hǎo xiāng ā..." the lid isn't opened wide enough that she could see everything, but she's holding it close enough that she could smell the faint fragrance of the treats in it.

her gaze is only torn away from the box a moment later, her mind taking a few longer to process his expression. "méi shì--" she breaks off, not quite liking how unnatural she sounds. a hand reaches to touch his that's on her shoulder, and she lets it linger for a while, giving his fingers a quick squeeze before lowering her hand, "i'm good," a smile appears, "and very happy to see you. i was a little tired just now, but nothing to worry about."

his laughter does not fail to draw out some of her own, and she nods, clearly impressed. "wǒ zhī dào. dàn shì yuè bǐng ma..." she trails off, mouth pursing a bit as she tries to sniff at the mooncakes again. "hěn nán ā...!" carefully holding the box in one hand -- it's too precious to risk dropping it -- she quickly reaches a hand out to poke his cheek. "they'll be prettier next time, i'm sure. the taste is more important, and i already have a good feeling that it's gonna taste amazing."

the familiar action succeeds in making something in anruo grow mushier, and she thinks about how if he keeps his hand on her face longer, she might just lean into it for as long as she could, even though they're in public -- her eyes widened, and in the next few short moments it takes for her to glance around their surroundings (good thing they're alone in the hallway!), she's already pulling him into the room behind her that she was previously in and was certain that it's empty.

if he wasn't convinced that anruo was telling the truth, the way that she was slightly out of breath just from the few quickened steps would do the trick. her head spins a little, and she takes it as a sign for her to grab his arm, leaning closer for support. "don't call me like that in public... nǐ fàn guī le," she says, touching her nose sheepishly, still recalling his light touch. if there's one thing that an jinyue seems to have the most effect on shu anruo, it's whatever that he does in public-- which is... a lot, just by standing near her already has her heartbeat spiking, let alone saying the kind of things he does.

her cheeks burn, and she thinks she might be really having a fever if this continues. "if you insist... i wasn't feeling well last night, couldn't really sleep because of a headache. but i'm better now, really." she stands straighter, and nods a few times. to convince him or herself, she isn't quite sure. looking up at him with the most pitiful yet sincere expression (having learnt one thing or two from those puppy eyes of his) she could manage right now, she tugs on his arm a little, "wǒ zhēn de zhēn de méi shì, nǐ bié dān xīn lā."

jīnyuè can't help himself --- he puffs out his chest proudly before answering in the affirmative. "shì a !" he replies with a grin, "wǒ kěyǐ kǎo, nǐ bù zhīdào ma ?" a beat, and then he laughs sheepishly before adding: "kě ... tāmen shì --- " a pause, a cheeky little giggle ( even a faint blush blossoming across his cheeks to go with it ), " --- bù tài ... piàoliang."

but the smile is short-lived, because her reassurances do not, in fact, reassure him at all --- if anything, it makes him all the more worried, because he knows his own personal inclination is always to reassure others when something's wrong with him, and he suspects she's much the same in that regard. he pouts ( rather adorably ), then reaches out to press the back of one hand to her forehead, while the other comes to rest against his own.

and then, he laughs again, soft and sweet ( and embarrassed. ) "wǒ zhēnde bù fēnbiàn," he admits. his hand doesn't immediately drop, though --- he gently tucks a lock of hair behind her ear first ... and then dares to let his fingers linger a moment there, too. "āiyō, jiāo táohuā ... wǒ juédé nǐ shì bùzhǐ lèile. suǒyǐ, nǐ gàosù wǒ ... nǐ shì bùshì jīntiān shāoshāo bìngle ma ?"

a beat. jīnyuè gives her a look that's at the intersection of tender and scrutinizing --- and then playfully taps the tip of her nose with his forefinger. "i'm happy to see you too ! i missed you. so, of course i worried, and worried --- " a teasing wink, " --- and worried ... āiyō, shu anruo --- the terrible indigestion i'll have if you won't be perfectly, absolutely honest with me ... ! nǐ hái hǎo ma ?"