Chapter 65 - 2#
Jing Shun had Milk Ball sit where it was, while he took a couple steps forward and tried to gauge with his eyes, “Brother, you’re 1.8 meters tall, right? Are you a tourist here for fun? Are you a college student?”
That rapid-fire series of questions fully exposed his “chatterbox” nature.
Could he really jabber on that much to a complete stranger? If he ran into someone familiar, how lively would he get?
Song Yu hadn’t expected that Jing Shun, a child star, would have this kind of personality. He stifled a cough.
Still, he was very patient, answering each one: “I’m only 1.84 meters right now. I’ll start college in the second half of the year. I’m working part-time on the set, but I’m heading back today.”
Jing Shun took another two steps forward, trying to get a better look at Song Yu’s face. “Why?”
Sensing his intent, Song Yu unconsciously tugged at the brim of his cap and sat back down on the bench. “No particular reason.”
After his birthday came the anniversary of his biological mother’s death.
Song Yu had to visit her grave every year, so he had to leave tonight.
Song Yu wouldn’t share such a private matter with a stranger. He simply said, “My family is waiting for me to celebrate my birthday.”
“Ah!”
It was as if Jing Shun had triggered a keyword. He bounced over and plopped down on the same bench, completely at ease. “Brother, is it your birthday or a family member’s? What a coincidence—it’s my birthday too!”
Song Yu was overwhelmed by Jing Shun calling him “brother” again and again, so he could only stare at his beggar costume and ask knowingly, “You’re an actor, right? Don’t you need to go back and film?”
“It’s not my turn yet. Someone will come get me later.”
Jing Shun had pulled an all-nighter on Set A the night before, working until 6 a.m., and then was rushed straight into Set B by Xu Jia.
Although acting was something he loved, such high-intensity work made him feel stifled.
So after the birthday celebration wrapped up, he took his little dog out to play, but he hadn’t expected to startle the person in front of him.
Jing Shun then remembered he hadn’t introduced himself. “Brother, what’s your name? I’m Jing Shun—‘Jing’ as in scenery, ‘Shun’ as in a flash.”
“…”
Hearing that self-introduction, Song Yu’s deep-seated memories were tugged loose.
He paused for a few seconds. “Just call me Xiao Song.”
The protagonist’s name was worth remembering—he was just a passing extra about to leave the set, so there was no need.
Xiao Song?
Jing Shun frowned slightly, then decided, “Then I’ll just call you brother!”
He tilted his head, catching a glimpse of the dark, deep eyes beneath the cap brim. “Brother, happy birthday!”
Song Yu met his sparkling peach blossom eyes and was stunned.
This was the first birthday wish he had received at eighteen—not from family, not from friends, but from the Jing Shun right in front of him.
Seeing no reaction, Jing Shun thought he had guessed wrong. “Am I wrong? You’re going back to celebrate your family’s birthday?”
Song Yu snapped back to himself, only saying, “Birthdays aren’t necessarily happy, are they?”
Jing Shun didn’t understand. “Why? Are you unhappy?”
He was a child with strong perception; from earlier on, he could sense that the person before him had been in low spirits.
“…”
Song Yu was silent for a few seconds, then admitted with a frankness that even surprised himself. “Bao Tianxiang, the head of Camera Team B, docked my monthly wages.”
Maybe it was because he felt Jing Shun wouldn’t understand and couldn’t stand up for him, or maybe it was because of this chance encounter, but Song Yu found himself willing to voice the unrelieved grievance and resentment.
Another reason he was waiting here—
He even wanted to use a “not-so-right” method to vent his anger, when Bao Tianxiang got off work and there were no cameras around.
The Jing Shun beside him indeed fell silent, only his brows knitting tightly.
Song Yu wasn’t surprised by his quiet reaction, shifting his gaze to the little white dog sitting obediently across from them.
“How old is this dog? Called Milk Ball?”
“Yeah, he’s a Chinese native dog, almost seven years old!”
As the words fell, Jing Shun slid off the bench in one swift motion. “Brother, can you wait for me? I’ll go get you a small cake.”
Song Yu couldn’t stop him. “Hey—”
But Jing Shun had already sprinted back toward the set, his dog Milk Ball bustling along with him.
Song Yu turned his head, watching the retreating figure—little knowing that this scene would silently merge into the depths of his memory.
He would remember it, and he would remember it for many years.
…
Perhaps because of skills honed from a young age, Jing Shun was always lively and sweet-talking on set, getting along with everyone. It took no effort for him to ask the staff and find out where Bao Tianxiang’s rest room was.
Knock, knock—a sound at the door.
“Who is it? Come in.”
A response came from inside.
Jing Shun opened the door politely, bowed to Bao Tianxiang, and said, “Hello, Uncle Bao, it’s me, Jing Shun.”
As a child star, Jing Shun was fairly well-known.
Bao Tianxiang had seen this kid on other sets before and liked him, so he smiled warmly. “Little Jing Shun! What brings you to see me?”
Jing Shun walked up to Bao Tianxiang, his big eyes looking very obedient. “I just found out you’re working on this set too, so Mom told me to come say hello.”
Bao Tianxiang chuckled and ruffled his hair. “You haven’t been on stage yet today?”
“Almost,” Jing Shun replied, then came to the real reason for his visit. “Uncle Bao, I’d like to pick up my brother’s wages for him.”
Bao Tianxiang froze. “What?”
Jing Shun spoke seriously. “Xiao Song—he’s my cousin. He worked on our set for a month, and he said you’re the one paying him.”
“…”
Were Song Yu and Jing Shun related? He didn’t know that.
Bao Tianxiang’s expression shifted slightly, his smile becoming perfunctory. “Oh, is that so? Didn’t I already give them to him? Is there some mistake? Why would he have you ask me?”
Jing Shun followed along, putting on a clueless face. “Ah? Then I’ll go ask Mom again. Sorry to bother you, Uncle. Goodbye.”
With that, he turned to leave.
“Wait!”
Bao Tianxiang urgently called Jing Shun back, double-checking. “Is Xiao Song really your cousin?”
Jing Shun stopped and turned, nodding. “Yes!”
Bao Tianxiang subtly studied Jing Shun’s expression, but found no trace of panic that might betray a lie.
His eyes darted as he quickly weighed the pros and cons—
Whether it was Song Yu or Jing Shun, he wasn’t afraid of these young kids still wet behind the ears. But Jing Shun’s mother, Xu Jia—she was a formidable character!
If the family relationship was real, he had been withholding a kid’s wages.
If Xu Jia took this to the head financial office, his own embezzlement would be exposed. Maybe sending Jing Shun was her way of giving him an out?
Forget it!
Skipping one meal wasn’t a big deal!
Better not stir up any trouble!
The silence stretched on a little too long, and Jing Shun stared at him. “Uncle Bao?”
“My brain’s getting fuzzy—I confused things. Yes, there are wages to pay.”
Bao Tianxiang opened the drawer but secretly kept back two hundred in cash.
He handed over the rest. “Here, this is it.”
Jing Shun gripped the cash inside his costume sleeve and bowed politely again. “Thank you, Uncle Bao. I’ll be going now.”
Bao Tianxiang forced a smile. “Go on, then.”
Once Jing Shun left the rest room, his expression finally turned sour.
…
Jing Shun walked several meters away, making sure Bao Tianxiang wouldn’t come after him, before he couldn’t help but laugh.
That was a guilty conscience, wasn’t it?
Otherwise, why would he so easily hand over the money?
This was great—big brother shouldn’t be unhappy anymore!
Just as Jing Shun was about to go find Song Yu, a voice came from the side. “Xiao Shun!”
Jing Shun met Xu Jia walking toward him and unconsciously restrained his smile. “Mom.”
Xu Jia’s expression was rather stern. “What are you doing! It’s your first day on set, and you’re running around everywhere? Don’t you know it’s time for your makeup? Just because it’s your birthday doesn’t mean you can fool around! Filming is what matters most!”
Jing Shun stood obediently still. “Okay.”
Xu Jia finally softened, ruffling his hair. “Come on, let’s go to makeup. Have you memorized the script lines?”
Jing Shun held his sleeve tight to keep the cash from falling out. “Yes, I have, Mom.”
…
Another gentle breeze tried to dispel the heat in the air.
Song Yu checked the time on his phone—it was already five o’clock. The crew inside seemed to have started shooting several rounds anew, but Jing Shun, who had said he’d “go get a small cake,” still hadn’t reappeared.
Song Yu sighed. A trace of disappointment, one he hadn’t even noticed, condensed in his heart. He didn’t wait for Jing Shun, nor did he see Bao Tianxiang come off work and pass by here.
Song Yu stood up—he had to rush to catch the bus.
Suddenly, a female voice called out, “Excuse me! Wait a second!”
Song Yu turned around and saw a young woman walking toward him.
She assessed his height and asked, “Are you Xiao Song?”
Song Yu narrowed his eyes warily. “And you are?”
“Little Jing asked me to find you—” The young assistant shoved a black bag into his arms. “Here. He’s filming right now, didn’t want you waiting too long.”
“…”
Song Yu looked down at the heavy bag in his hands. “What’s inside?”
“Open it yourself. I don’t know what’s in the bag. The kid really cares about you.”
The female assistant patted the black plastic bag. “The delivery’s done—I’m off now.”
With that, she waved and ran back.
Song Yu stood where he was and opened the black bag—
An individually packaged chocolate cake, a four-pack of Want Want milk cartons, and a “letter” wrapped in A4 paper.
Song Yu’s gaze steadied as he opened the “letter.”
When he saw the neat stack of eight hundred-yuan bills inside, he was momentarily slow to react, until he caught the handwriting showing on the A4 paper.
Song Yu quickly turned it over to read. The message wasn’t long, but the handwriting was elegant.
“Brother, I got your wages back for you!”
“Happy birthday, brother!”
Below those two lines, Jing Shun had even drawn a simple line-drawing of a dog—the art was adorably ugly.
Next to the dog, he had written:
“The little puppy says: Be happy! Woof!”