Chapter 14: The Eighth Day

Under the watchful eye of the cameras, the two ate dinner quietly, as if nothing had happened. After finishing, they went their separate ways to work. Around eleven o’clock, the executive producer of "The Cataclysm" suddenly contacted Su Shengxin with an unusually polite and courteous tone. She had some suspicions about what had transpired that evening and spoke intimately:

“Teacher Su, there’s been a bit of an unexpected development. The originally confirmed second male lead, Mr. Chu, has just withdrawn from the project. His grandmother appears to be critically ill, and he won’t be able to leave the Beijing area for some time, so he can’t participate in filming. Also, we need to make some changes to the script, which will be closer to the version we sent you before signing the contract.”

Su Shengxin was speechless.

He realized that Shang Yin must have done something just now and wondered if Chu Tiankuo’s grandmother had actually learned of her grave condition. He simply replied, “Alright, I’ll cooperate fully.”

“Also,” the producer continued, “for the second male lead in ‘The Cataclysm,’ we plan to first invite Mr. Zhang X, the actor who initially came to mind for the role—an absolute perfect fit! What do you think? If Mr. Zhang is unavailable, we’ll consider other options.”

Su Shengxin thought that, indeed, the executive producer was also displeased that Chu Tiankuo had taken the role and even gained additional scenes and highlights. That remark was clearly a subtle jab at Chu Tiankuo, implying that she hadn’t had the chance to invite the actor she truly wanted before. But the producer was thorough and hadn’t said anything truly harsh.

Moreover, the producer’s words implied that she felt it necessary to consult Su Shengxin about the choice of the second male lead.

Su Shengxin thought that the other party must have sensed Shang Yin’s involvement and was careful not to offend him, choosing to seek his opinion before contacting the actor.

Su Shengxin replied tactfully, “I fully defer to the production’s arrangements; casting is not something I should intervene in. But I really like Mr. Zhang X and have always looked forward to working with him.”

“Alright, alright,” the producer said. “We’ll keep you updated!”

“Hmm,” Su Shengxin inquired, “has the director said anything?”

“No,” the executive producer replied, “he seems quite pleased...?”

“Good.” Su Shengxin thought: It seems the director of "The Cataclysm," who is also Chu Tiankuo’s father, has a rather superficial relationship with him. Now that the director’s final project is back on track, he’s actually happy his friend’s son has withdrawn. He never really had the thought of sacrificing his work to benefit a friend’s child but couldn’t openly oppose it either. He was probably a bit vexed before, which is understandable.

“It’s quite late now,” the executive producer said politely, “Teacher, please get some rest!”

“Hmm.” Su Shengxin, always gentle, replied, “You should take care of your health too.”

After putting down his phone, Su Shengxin quietly approached Shang Yin’s office. Shang Yin was sitting on the long sofa by the window, flipping through documents while listening to a report through his headphones.

Seeing Su Shengxin at the door, Shang Yin turned off his Bluetooth headset, set aside the papers, and walked over, lowering his gaze to ask, “What’s up?”

“Mr. Shang,” Su Shengxin looked into his eyes and said, “Thank you. I want to formally express my gratitude.”

Shang Yin’s eyes locked onto his, and after a moment, he said, “It’s nothing.”

Su Shengxin thought that what seemed ‘nothing’ to Shang Yin was a big deal to someone else but persisted, “Thank you for making that person leave the crew.” There was no monitoring in the study, only in the living room, and Su Shengxin’s voice was soft.

Shang Yin thought it was more than just leaving the crew but said nothing. Instead, he asked, “Did the script get changed back?”

“Yes,” Su Shengxin replied, “it was restored.”

“Good,” Shang Yin said. “I’ll visit the set during filming.”

Su Shengxin was momentarily stunned; this was effectively an invitation for future meetings. His eyes flicked to Shang Yin’s lower lip, then he took a bolder step and asked, “Shang Yin, will you come watch when we shoot the kissing scenes? There are two in the script. One is the confirmation of love, and the other is a bit intense, during a reunion. The director said it will be filmed last.”

Shang Yin’s gaze darkened, and after a long pause, he said, “Is your invitation... a death wish?”

Su Shengxin smiled, “Help me put on a bit of a show.”

Shang Yin stared at him for a long moment, then finally nodded, “Alright, then I’ll make sure you yourself put on a good show.”

That settled their meeting after the show.

...

Afterwards, they both rested separately. Su Shengxin didn’t expect that early the next morning, perhaps due to the sea breeze during the “Greek wedding” event yesterday and getting upset after returning, he felt dizzy and developed a high fever.

He found it puzzling since he was usually healthy and rarely fell ill. Yet now, at such a critical moment, his body failed him.

He wanted to attend the event but thought it necessary to inform the production team of his condition. However, upon hearing this, the producer instructed Shang Yin and Su Shengxin: “Teacher Su, please rest; don’t participate today! Today’s content mainly involves couples holding hands for the first time, but you two already unlocked that activity yesterday. Therefore, the main shots won’t focus on you. If you stay here, Mr. Shang can take care of Teacher Su, which might even create some different stories.”

Su Shengxin said, “...Understood.”

So, he happily wrapped himself in a small blanket and lay back down. Soon he got too hot and tossed the blanket aside.

The producer came to check on him and called in the show’s doctor to examine Su Shengxin, saying, “It’s almost 39 degrees early in the morning; the fever will surely rise higher tonight.”

The doctor was an elderly man with white hair. After examining him, he warned, “If this continues, it will be difficult to recover in the next couple of days. Don’t overexert yourself. I’ll have the clinic’s assistant bring an IV drip.”

Su Shengxin, not wanting to hold anyone back, agreed, “Thank you, doctor.”

The cabin wasn’t far from the city; about an hour later, Su Shengxin was receiving the IV.

Shang Yin came over, feeling the outside of the drip bag, and asked, “Why is it so cold?”

The doctor smiled, “It hasn’t been out long; maybe it hasn’t reached room temperature.”

Shang Yin nodded.

After the doctor left, Shang Yin dragged a chair to sit beside the bed. His warm palm grasped Su Shengxin’s right wrist, asking, “Is the medicine cold?”

“Not really,” Su Shengxin said. He wasn’t fragile.

Shang Yin didn’t like that and asked the doctor again. After some time, he returned with a small hot water bottle wrapped in a towel, placing it on Su Shengxin’s wrist. “That old man said this should feel better.”

“...Thank you,” Su Shengxin said quietly. He had never been cared for like this before.

Such a strange feeling.

While waiting for the medicine to take effect, Shang Yin kept talking to Su Shengxin.

Shang Yin asked, “When is the final scene of ‘The Cataclysm’?”

Su Shengxin thought for a moment, “About six months from now. Filming starts in approximately three months.”

They had already agreed that Shang Yin would visit the set then.

“Six months?” Shang Yin teased, looking at Su Shengxin. “Alright, that’s quite a wait.” Even if overheard, others would think Shang Yin simply didn’t want Su Shengxin to start filming.

Su Shengxin suddenly changed the subject and asked, “Mr. Shang, you play basketball, right?”

Shang Yin was slightly surprised but nodded, “Yes, though I rarely play now. Back in the U.S., during elementary and high school, I played a lot with Americans.”

“Could you teach me?” Su Shengxin looked up at the ceiling light and said, “I want to take a contemporary drama next, filming right after ‘The Cataclysm,’ but my role requires basketball skills—and I don’t know how to play.”

Shang Yin was a bit surprised, “You don’t know at all?”

Shang Yin already understood. Since he thought six months was too long, Su Shengxin was scheduling something sooner, and it wouldn’t be a one-time meeting but ongoing.

“No,” Su Shengxin kept looking at the ceiling, shaking his head. “When I was little... I really wanted to play because all my classmates did, and it seemed so fun. I only played once, basically learning to shoot free throws by mimicking others and the form from a book... but then I never played again.”

Amazingly, though Su Shengxin hadn’t said a word or revealed anything, Shang Yin immediately understood—that one time, Su Shengxin’s parents had found out.

Su Shengxin recalled.

That time, his parents scolded him harshly, telling him to stay away from basketball because catching, blocking, defending, and being defended against could easily injure his fingers.

That would mean he couldn’t practice piano. But he couldn’t afford to neglect piano practice.

Su Shengxin understood his parents, but his father’s words still hurt him for a long time: “Su Shengxin, you have such talent and environment—such teachers, such facilities—don’t waste it, don’t be ungrateful.”

So all his desire, endurance, struggle, and cautious attempts were reduced to a single phrase: “Ungrateful.”

A dull ache rose in Shang Yin’s chest, and he said, “I’ll teach you. We can modify the yard and build a basketball court—very simple. I can even invite the former national team’s head coach to teach you.”

Their eyes met and intertwined. Su Shengxin said, “Thank you.”

Shang Yin squeezed his hand again, smiling lightly, “With this, soon you’ll have hands that can both play piano and basketball.”

Su Shengxin imagined the boy he once longed to be and smiled softly.

Oh, he thought: After fifteen years, I’m finally going to learn basketball?

One person saying they’d build a basketball court in the yard, another saying they’d invite the former national coach.

...

Contrary to the doctor’s expectations, half an hour after the IV, Su Shengxin’s temperature hadn’t dropped; it was still near 39 degrees.

His cheeks flushed red, and he looked at Shang Yin, panting lightly. His face was very red, his eyes slightly narrowed, thin sweat on his neck suddenly felt sticky and uncomfortable. His slender, fair index finger scratched lightly at his neck two or three times, wiping away the sweat. Shang Yin’s gaze lingered for a few seconds.

“Uncomfortable?” Shang Yin asked.

Even in this state, Su Shengxin did not show weakness. He smiled, “What do you think?”

“The doctor just said, if it doesn’t help, we can try physical cooling.” Shang Yin stood, “I’ll get a cold towel to wipe your sweat and cool you down.”

Su Shengxin, unusually obedient, said, “Okay.”

Soon Shang Yin returned carrying a basin of cool water. He pulled out the chair from before, placed the basin on it, then sat on the bed and pulled the blanket from Su Shengxin’s chest down to his waist. His fingers hovered over the pajama buttons, asking, “Shall I unbutton it?”