FO | Chapter 3

Song Ying did not bother with any false politeness either, and summed it up: “The models aren’t compatible. They’re going to clash.”

Go back to your director’s chair. Zhou Suiming could not argue with her, so he chased her away, then turned around to help Xiao Zhang clean up the crew’s empty meal boxes.

He was busy when, all of a sudden, a gaze settled on his back. He did not turn around, letting it skim over the shoulder line and waist of his T-shirt, circle him twice, then quietly move away.

Once everyone was in position, Zhou Suiming was just about to look for Nicole when the young woman broke away from the client group and came running over, thump-thump-thump.

She was running so fast that she nearly fell on the last two steps. Zhou Suiming hurriedly caught her and asked what was wrong.

“Emergency! Their VP doesn’t seem too happy and wants to change something on-site.”

Zhou Suiming’s heart dropped. “What isn’t he happy with?”

I don’t know either. I only heard two sentences before they kicked me out. Nicole quickly shared what she had gleaned through indirect questioning. On the surface, the market department’s high ponytail was the person in charge of this shoot, but the liquor market had been doing poorly in recent years. Sales of everything from white spirits to brown spirits had been declining, to say nothing of champagne, which relied on KA sales channels. The power of Mingwei’s market department had shrunk drastically, to the point where it had almost become sales’ pampered little pet. Even when submitting a budget request, they had to read sales’ mood, and then endure a sarcastic remark from that side asking whether their conversion rate was too low.

Times have changed, Nicole sighed. Never mind someone at the manager level like High Ponytail, even her superior would have to show the head of sales considerable deference.

Zhou Suiming’s eyelid twitched. This was going to be difficult.

Sure enough, a moment later, the group from Mingwei’s sales department moved to the center of the set. The VP at the front was short and thickset. Taking up a position from which he could issue orders, he looked left and right at the red-themed set, shook his head, and said lightly, “The brand’s primary color is green. You made everything red. It doesn’t feel right.”

High Ponytail, following behind him, gave two dry laughs and explained, “It’s a New Year’s commercial, so of course we used red. We finalized that at the PPM. I sent it to you, Peter, and you saw it, didn’t you? Didn’t you even say it looked festive?”

“The deck looked fine, sure, but seeing it laid out on-site, it’s tacky.”

High Ponytail’s expression stiffened. Peter raised his brows and continued, “Our champagne isn’t made for nightclubs. It all goes through high-end channels. Once this commercial is released and the promotional materials are rolled out to the channels, when those first-class passengers, hotel-lounge guests, and Mi-san customers see it, won’t it make the brand look cheap? If it can’t sell in the end, or the KAs complain, who do you think will take responsibility?”

Though there was a hint of sophistry in his argument, after being pressed like that, High Ponytail could no longer come up with an excuse. She could only remain silent for a few seconds, put on a smile, and say, “Then let’s think of a solution.”

At those words, Zhou Suiming understood. They were clearly trying to kick the hot potato over to them.

Beside him, Song Ying wore an expression as though she had eaten shit. Lowering her voice, she said, “What the fuck? That midget opens his mouth and says change the color, and all the set work we did is just wasted? Everything was planned in one unified color scheme. We coordinated it in advance! If we change it, we have to replace everything from the backdrop paper to the carpets. Even if you can get the supplies by phone, it’ll take at least half a day. Who’s paying the overtime?”

Nicole was standing nearby and heard her. She coughed twice, then suggested, “Why don’t we fix it in post?”

Wasn’t that asking them to die at their workstations? Zhou Suiming’s face went dark. He drained the last mouthful of coffee. It really did taste like dishwater.

A few minutes later, High Ponytail gave Nicole the order, clearly passing the buck to them and telling them to find a way to change the red to green.

Song Ying had a short fuse. At that, she rolled up her sleeves and stormed forward to demand an explanation, but Zhou Suiming held her back with all his strength.

They were an outsourced vendor working for another outsourced vendor. In a situation like this, they simply had no standing to argue with the client’s client. So he had Xiao Zhang keep Song Ying under control, then pulled Nicole aside and told her there were two options. The first was to pay more. If that was what it took, he would even repaint the set himself on-site and produce a green one for her. The second was for them to persuade him as much as possible not to indulge in wild ideas.

Nicole did not even think about it. “The first one.”

Did she not hear the words pay more? Zhou Suiming was helpless. “Changing the set won’t be cheap.”

Nicole spread her mouth into a miserable, pleading expression. “Can you squeeze it down a little more, Director Zhou? You’re the producer. Help us think of something.”

When the project came in, they had already given them a friends-and-family rate. Zhou Suiming had set aside an emergency fund, but if he used it, the commercial’s profit margin would become pitifully small, barely enough to avoid a loss.

He darkened his expression and was just about to refuse when he felt that ghostly gaze again.

From across half the studio, Zheng Huaiyou glanced over as if unintentionally. By the time Zhou Suiming looked up, he had already withdrawn his gaze and turned to whisper a few words to Peter.

Zhou Suiming paused, then said seriously to Nicole, “I can help you think of a solution, but at most I can keep the overtime from becoming too outrageous. If we really replace the set, the prop rental and labor costs will have to be settled separately. Apply to your AD and make sure he knows what to expect.”

Nicole conceded defeat and could only say, “All right.” She then crouched in a corner and made a voice call, presumably to report to her superiors.

Zhou Suiming left the studio and made three phone calls in a row, calling in favors with acquaintances. He had been in the industry for years and had fairly good connections. Several set builders said that if he was truly in a hurry, they could come over and help. Only then did Zhou Suiming feel a little more settled, thinking that at least they had a backup plan.

He exhaled and went back into the studio, only to find that the atmosphere had changed completely. Nicole came running toward him, beaming, and said, “We don’t have to change it anymore! We don’t have to change it! Peter withdrew his objection. Just keep shooting according to the original plan!”

What a twist. Everyone on set patted their chests and silently recited prayers to Amitabha. Song Ying, meanwhile, cursed him as a lunatic and sat down angrily to stare at the monitor.

Zhou Suiming’s heartbeat sped up, then slowed again. He looked toward the other side. The group of Mingwei salespeople no longer seemed interested in the shoot. They surrounded Peter the Midget and began discussing long-term and short-term strategies.

As for Zheng Huaiyou, he stood at the edge of the circle. He had not taken the specialty pour-over coffee Nicole had ordered specifically for him, but held the chain-brand coffee that Zhou Suiming’s team had bought instead. He drank it while staring blankly into space.

“Xiao Zhang.” Zhou Suiming called his assistant over. “Watch things for me for a while. I’m going outside for a cigarette. Call me if there’s a problem.”

When he left the studio again, the weather had shifted from overcast to partly cloudy. Zhou Suiming called each of the set builders he had contacted earlier, thanking them one by one and telling them that the crisis was over and they would not need to come help for now.

Then he put down his phone, bit a cigarette between his lips, and took out his lighter.

It was the cheapest kind sold at a tobacco shop. Maybe it was out of fuel. No matter how many times Zhou Suiming struck it, it would not light. He was frowning when a hand with distinct, well-defined knuckles reached in front of him. The thumb flicked gently upward, then twisted. A diamond-patterned lighter in the hand suddenly burst into flame.

Clink. S.T. Dupont, black and silver.

Zhou Suiming paused for a second, accepted the kindness, and leaned closer to light his cigarette.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

After saying that, Zheng Huaiyou lit a cigarette of his own. Zhou Suiming’s nose twitched. He had not changed scents. It was still that cologne. From a distance, it was like watching waves surge along the shore. Up close, it was like being drenched from head to toe, in danger of being swallowed by the water.

He quickly drafted several opening lines in his mind, but none of them seemed ideal. In the end, he decided to introduce himself first. “I’m…”

“I remember.”

Zheng Huaiyou exhaled smoke and turned to look at him. “That dinner wasn’t cheap.”

Picking that four-figure bottle of red wine out of his memories, Zhou Suiming smiled. “Luckily, I didn’t order your champagne. Otherwise, I’d have had to wash dishes at the restaurant for two days to pay it off.”

“With the employee discount, it’s half price. It wouldn’t be that expensive.”

“Mingwei has such good benefits?”

Zhou Suiming exclaimed, then asked when Zheng Huaiyou had changed jobs. That was when he learned that the other man had switched companies at the beginning of the year. Counting backward, it had been right around the time Zhou Suiming and Li Youhe broke up.

He asked instinctively, “How’s Han Ke?”

“I don’t know.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t like keeping track of my ex-boyfriend’s situation.”

Oh, dear. Zhou Suiming shut his mouth. It had been a terrible topic to bring up. Fortunately, Zheng Huaiyou did not seem to mind and smoothly asked, “What about you two? Are you still doing well?”

He had dug a hole and jumped right into it. Zhou Suiming shook his head. “We broke up.”

The hand smoking on the other side paused slightly. “Same here.”

Right. Zhou Suiming inexplicably felt relieved, only to sense something climbing up into his chest and burrowing inside, leaving him faintly itchy.

“Thank you.”

“Didn’t you already say that?”

“That was for the light. This is to…” Zhou Suiming paused. “Thank you for helping me out.”

They both knew that Zheng Huaiyou must have said something to Peter the Midget earlier on set, which was why his superior had changed his mind and stopped making trouble for them.

Zhou Suiming was curious. He had no idea what Lord Two Hearts had done. Zheng Huaiyou did not conceal it, generously sharing the answer. “Peter believes in feng shui. He’s been trading futures lately, so I told him changing it to green would be unlucky.”

Red meant prices rising, green meant prices falling. Zhou Suiming froze for a moment, then understood and found it utterly ridiculous.

“That’s it? Hahahahahaha!”

It was both absurd and perfectly logical. He could not stop laughing for a moment and nearly choked on his cigarette, so he put it out.

“Hahaha, all right. One sentence from you saved my life. Thank you, Guanyin, savior of those in suffering.”

Zheng Huaiyou was amused by Zhou Suiming’s appearance as well, the corners of his mouth lifting. “We’re all here to work. If the commercial fell behind schedule, it would affect us too. Fewer problems make things easier for everyone.”

After saying that, he saw Zhou Suiming take another cigarette from the pack and simply held out the S.T. Dupont in his hand. Zhou Suiming hesitated for only a second before quickly accepting it.

Once it was lit, they spent half a cigarette talking from the commercial to coffee. Zhou Suiming asked why Zheng Huaiyou had not joined his sales colleagues in drinking the sixty-eight-yuan specialty pour-over. Zheng Huaiyou wrinkled his nose and looked like a picky child. “It’s too sour. I don’t like it.”

So you like dishwater too. We have that in common. Zhou Suiming teased him a little, but Zheng Huaiyou was not offended. He said there was a chain-brand coffee shop in Mingwei’s office building, and he brought his own cup every day to get five yuan off.

Zhou Suiming laughed again. It was the third or fourth time in just a few minutes, more laughter than he usually shared with anyone over an entire meal or a round of drinks.

It had been a long time since he had enjoyed a conversation this much. He wondered if he should smoke another cigarette and extend the happiness a little longer. But then Zheng Huaiyou’s phone vibrated. The other man lowered his head to glance at it and sighed faintly.

“Sorry. The boss is calling. I’ll head back in.”

His tone was polite. He stubbed out his cigarette without mentioning anything else or making any request, unilaterally ending the conversation.

Zhou Suiming was stunned for a moment, then quickly gave a soft “Oh,” maintaining his expression as he said, “I won’t keep you.”

He watched until the other man left. An empty space opened up beside Zhou Suiming, leaving him exposed to the wind. His cigarette burned faster. He took two slow drags, then stopped and did not continue.

When it was nearly burned down to the end, he put it out. Only then did he notice the weight in his left hand. He had been holding Zheng Huaiyou’s S.T. Dupont the entire time and had forgotten to return it.

Had he really forgotten? He stared at it in his palm, then returned to the set, only to find that the suited group had seemingly evaporated on the spot. After asking Nicole, he learned that the salespeople had another engagement and had already left for the next one.

Zhou Suiming tightened his grip, his fingers touching the lighter’s metal casing. This time, his heartbeat slowed, then sped up.

With the trouble gone and no one around to give pointless orders, the shoot proceeded smoothly until midnight. They did not even go into overtime, and Zhou Suiming’s emergency fund remained untouched.

As they left the studio, Song Ying cursed and grumbled, shouting that they should go out for a late-night meal. Zhou Suiming usually accompanied her, but today he said he was going to skip it and head home early.

In the end, Xiao Zhang stepped in and was dragged away by Song Ying as his replacement. Zhou Suiming saw them out, returned to the set to clean up, and was the last one to leave.

It was already well into the night when he got home. The apartment was extremely quiet. Zhou Suiming did not turn on the lights. He dropped his bag, heavy as a sack of explosives, and lay straight down on the sofa.

For the first time, the exhaustion of working all day did not immediately consume him. Zhou Suiming closed his eyes for a while, but he was not sleepy. After thinking it over, he reached into his trouser pocket and took out the S.T. Dupont.

This must be pretty expensive. As far as he remembered, it cost around ten thousand yuan.

He looked it up, and sure enough. He toyed with it in his hand. If it had been the kind that cost two yuan at a convenience store, he would have let it go. The other man might not even have cared. But when something expensive was left in someone else’s possession, it was only natural to want it back.

Besides.

Zhou Suiming opened the diamond-patterned lid. The lighter made a clear little click, startlingly crisp in the silence. He opened and closed it over and over, almost as if addicted, simply to hear that sound.

After doing so many times, he ran his fingers over it and finally used his fingertip to turn the side wheel. Flame sprang up at once, a bewitching tongue of fire swaying as though it had a living waist.