Ch37 - Final Touch (3)

There was no need to say anything else because the two lewd male adulterers instantaneously clicked. They couldn’t hide their thoughts of love for each other any longer and hurried to their room hand in hand. Fortunately, the actors and production team members were celebrating the end of filming in the front yard at the time, and there was almost no one resting in the back courtyards. According to plot development, thunder in the sky should have sparked fires on Earth at this time, and they should have entered the room while stripping naked and battled to compensate for those 18 minutes. In reality, they noticed a familiar chubby little Taoist child sitting on the porch, resembling a ball, before they could step into their room. His eyes were completely red as he sat there sobbing and wiping away his tears.

When he saw them passing by, the little Taoist child wept even more fiercely. He agilely jumped up like a bouncy ball from the ground and hugged Ling Xi’s thigh with one hand and An Ruifeng’s knee with the other, hanging himself on the two of them like a leg pendant. 

Ling Xi worked hard to lift him off his leg, hold him in his arms, and ask him why he was crying.

The little boy whimpered as he wiped his tears: “I don’t want the master to die, I don’t want the dog demon to die! They are all good people and can’t die!”

The small Taoist boy, it turned out, did not listen to the old Taoist priest’s instructions and sneaked out to peek at their filming. What he peeked at was the final scene, in which the dog demon changed into a human and crawled into the master’s arms, calmly meeting death. They acted with genuine emotions. Even adults were moved and unable to hold back their tears, let alone an innocent child.

The little Taoist boy’s already plump face was swollen from crying, giving the impression that he was holding an egg in each cheek. Ling Xi and An Ruifeng had experienced his incredible loud crying previously, but this time his sobs were much more earth-shattering than the last. They didn’t know what it was like to be a father, so they didn’t hug or coax him. 

Ling Xi patiently persuaded him, saying, “That’s acting, that’s a story — no one is dead! Look, your Uncle An and I are standing here alive. Those are all fake!”

The little Taoist child had to work hard to open his swollen eyes into slits. On the one hand, he sobbed spasmodically, and on the other, said in a milky voice: “Although the story is fake, the feelings are real.”

An Ruifeng: “…This ideological enlightenment is truly too high.”

The two of them surrounded the child in bewilderment for a long time, fretting about how to coax the little guy, when the rescue force finally arrived.

It turned out that the old Taoist priest heard the child weeping and followed the sound to investigate, saving them from disaster.

When they saw the old Taoist priest arrive, they both let out a sigh of relief and hurriedly handed over the child to the old priest. They informed him in a few words how they found the boy wailing, hoping that the old Taoist priest would be able to persuade the kid.

The old Taoist priest held the hefty little guy in one hand and stroked his white beard on his chest with the other: “If he cries, let him cry. Is he crying because of the story and the deep mutual feelings the master and disciple share as they face life and death? He has an innately meticulous mind and thinks carefully about a lot of things. This is not a bad thing.”

The little Taoist boy’s voice grew smaller and smaller as he cried. He leaned drowsily on the Taoist priest’s bosom, his small head bobbing. He was rocking left and right because he was so tired. The old Taoist priest patted him on the back, and turned to face the two men in front of him before saying his goodbyes: “We’ll do a ritual in the temple tomorrow, right in front of the main hall. You are welcome to come over and take a look if you are able to wake up early tomorrow morning.” 

The two men agreed quickly. With the kid in his arms, the Taoist priest nodded and vanished into the vast night.

An Ruifeng and Ling Xi gazed at the figure of the old Taoist priest, who was moving away from them. They didn’t move until five seconds later, when they both spoke at the same time.

“I think…”

“I think…” 

The two looked at each other.

“You say it first?”

“You say it first!”

This tacit understanding made Ling Xi smile so happily that his eyes curved: “I guess we must be thinking about the same thing.” 

We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.

Cc Eelofcu cbvvfv, tlr abcf jr qjwqfglcu jr fnfg: “P atlcx atf rjwf. Ofa’r rjs la ja atf rjwf alwf.”

Ktf akb wfc atfc mbecafv vbkc 3,2,1 rlweiajcfberis.

Olcu Wl: “P vbc’a atlcx kf’ii yf jyif ab ufa eq fjgis abwbggbk wbgclcu.”

Cc Eelofcu: “P atlcx kf mjc gjlrf j mtliv.” 

They both fell silent after speaking.

Obviously, they had asserted just a moment ago that they had a tacit understanding, but the result was that they spoke about two utterly unrelated things. An Ruifeng was inevitably a little embarrassed: “…It seems that our tacit understanding is not as deep as I thought. We still need a lot of break in.”

Ling Xi keenly sensed his disappointment. He grabbed Ruifeng’s hand, and this time he was the one who coaxed An Ruifeng: “Not at all! I think we are talking about the same thing o(* ≧▽≦)ツ”

※※※ 

The sun was high in the sky when they awoke the next day. They had obviously missed the auspicious hour of the ritual. Ling Xi pestered An Ruifeng last night to compensate for his time. The two men fought valiantly till midnight, making up for six of the eighteen minutes. An Ruifeng called an IOU for the remaining twelve minutes, explaining that he would make up for it in one go after they descended the mountain and that it would be more enjoyable this way.

Ling Xi awoke with a sore waist and An Ruifeng with soft legs. It could be said that if they hadn’t been thinking about seeing the Taoist ritual, they would have slept until dinnertime before getting up. The ritual was almost over by the time the two of them hurriedly changed their clothes and dashed to the front of the Taoist temple’s main hall.

The filming was completed the previous day, so most of the actors left in the morning due to schedule reasons. Bao Hui had hurriedly descended the mountain and returned to B city last night because of the black materials. As a result, there were only three actors left on the mountain at the moment. Aside from AnLing, the third individual was their old friend Zhu Linlin. When the two of them arrived, Zhu Linlin was attending the ritual.

Previously, almost half of the scenes were shot in the main hall. It was here that the master lectured the disciples, taught them spells, and practiced swordsmanship with them. It was also the beginning point for the last day’s horrific battle scenario. Everyone in the sect fought and retreated, defended the treasure pavilion, and eventually bled all over the ground. When they returned, the ground and surrounding walls had been thoroughly cleaned, and the camera rails that had been installed had been completely dismantled and piled aside, waiting for the workers to haul them down the mountain, as if the previous month’s hard work had been a dream. 

The ritual was done in the open space outside the main hall by the old Taoist priest and two young Taoist priests. They wore high caps and washed and ironed ceremonial robes, making them appear serious and awe-inspiring. The old Taoist priest whispered words to himself while the other two Taoist priests chanted the sutras in hushed tones. Smoke rose in swirls from the altar’s burning incense. It was a somber and reverent mood.

Ling Xi approached Zhu Linlin and asked in a whisper, “What ritual are the two Taoists and the head priest performing?”

“I’ll say it, but you’re not going to believe me…” Zhu Linlin turned her head to look at them: “They are performing a religious ceremony to help the souls of the characters who died in the drama yesterday find peace.”

Ling Xi: “…I thought only Buddhist monks could chāo dù.” 

An Ruifeng: “…Is this the time to discuss who can chāo dù?”

The three people looked at each other, perplexed as to why the priest was putting in so much effort to chant sutras for characters who only existed in a script. However, they were respectful when they observed how serious everyone else on the scene appeared to be. Their restless hearts gradually calmed as they listened to the rhythmic scriptures and watched the solemn and mysterious ritual taking place in front of their eyes. They seemed to have become the characters from the drama again, their blood-soaked and damned spirits cleansed by the scriptures.

The ritual was completed after about a half-hour wait. The old Taoist priest instructed a few young Taoists and small Taoist children to clean up the ritual altar before changing his ceremonial robes. He put on the robe and huge overcoat he typically wore in the Taoist temple and approached the three chatting people.

An Ruifeng took the initiative and offered his apologies: “Dao Zhang, I’m sorry. This period of filming has been exhausting, and I was unable to wake up early this morning.” 

Ling Xi hurriedly said a few words of apology as well.

The old Taoist priest stroked his beard and said very kindly: “It’s okay, it’s okay. The transcendence ritual is not intended to be observed by spectators. It makes no difference whether there is one person to watch, a few people to watch, or no one to watch. After all, you are not the protagonist in this religious ceremony.”

Mentioning this point inevitably brought up the question that had been lingering in the three people’s hearts. Zhu Linlin couldn’t hide the words in her heart and bluntly asked the Taoist priest — the characters in the play only existed in the TV series, and three of the actors were standing there hale and hearty, so why did he want to help non-existent people find peace?

When the Taoist priest noticed the three individuals in front of him were puzzled, he smiled and promptly explained: “Do you think this ritual is absurd and pointless? That’s because, from your point of view, you see them as a role you’ve portrayed, and their world as a fictitious one in the screenplay. You are actors who can convey their happiness, anger, sorrow, and joy, but you are not them in the end. They are dead, but you are not, so you feel that they merely lived briefly in the play.” 

The Taoist priest went on to explain: “But, in my perspective, they existed the moment the screenwriter picked up his pen to outline the first character. When the screenwriter finished the final punctuation, their world became self-contained. They truly lived in a world beyond our comprehension. They grieved and smiled, they worked hard and took it easy… Finally, they fought a bloody battle to protect the sect, leaving a trail of blood on this land. Because they are the departed souls of those who died in battle, I naturally should assist them in finding peace so that they can avoid the three coatings and five sufferings.”

The priest provided such a comprehensive explanation that, while they were not quite convinced, they understood what he meant. The Taoist priest’s viewpoint was diametrically opposed to theirs, and it had opened the door to a new world for them.

Observing that they appeared to grasp but did not entirely comprehend, the old Taoist priest continued: “You regard the master and apprentices as characters in a play from a screenwriter’s script, appearing unexpectedly in their world and evaluating their joys and sorrows with a spectator’s eye. But maybe you’re a character in someone else’s story. Others who read this book will be able to identify with your four emotions.”

This hypothesis was definitely out of the ordinary. While contemplating, An Ruifeng said: “It’s fascinating to consider it in this light. The characters in the play exist in the screenwriter’s writing, which causes the audience to cry outside of the screen. If Ling Xi and I appear in someone’s writing, I hope our existence makes readers happy.” 

“That’s right!” Ling Xi repeatedly nodded: “It must be the kind of happiness that makes them laugh out loud when they see us on stage.”

Zhu Linlin chuckled, but did not have the nerve to ridicule them in front of the old Taoist priest — if you two horny dogs are really the characters in a novel, it must be a book that people are embarrassed to read in public.

※※※

A few days later, the last day of the rental time agreed upon between the production team and the Taoist Temple arrived. The employees who remained finished restoring the Taoist temple to its former state and descended the mountain together. An Ruifeng had intended to stay with Ling Xi at the Taoist temple for a few more days as a holiday, but his agent Xu Zhiqiang threw a tightly-packed schedule in his face, demanding him to return to work without stopping to rest in the arms of his sweetheart. 

He went down the mountain, naturally accompanied by Ling Xi. Before leaving, Ling Xi said very guiltily: “I’m sorry. I said before that I would be responsible for earning money and supporting the family, while you’ll be responsible for looking as pretty as a flower… In the end, you’re now responsible for making money and supporting the family, and I really can’t afford being called as pretty as a flower.”

An Ruifeng hugged him and kissed his forehead affectionately: “Why not? You’re so good-looking. Who said you weren’t beautiful enough?”

Xu Zhiqiang turned a blind eye to the scene in front of him.

Before descending the mountain, the two men went to the old Taoist priest’s wing to say their goodbyes to him. An Ruifeng had a very good impression of the old priest. The theory of ‘the world in the book’ he heard after the ritual sounded quite interesting. 

The cast and crew had been a nuisance during this period of filming, even performing a “killing” play there. The Taoist temple was essentially a place of pure cultivation, but their arrival tainted it with earthly vulgarity. AnLing talked it over and decided to donate some money to the Taoist temple in order to renovate its main hall and acquire some good karma. In addition to the donation, Ling Xi urged An Ruifeng to give the old Taoist priest an autographed photo album as a personal gift. After getting it, the old Taoist was unwilling to put it down.

It wasn’t until then that An Ruifeng learned the old Taoist priest with the immortal style and sage-like looks was actually a fan of his.

Seeing his idol’s amazed expression, the old Taoist priest puffed his mustache and opened fire: “Do you believe it’s impossible for Taoist priests or older people to chase stars?”

“Neither. It’s just that I’m seeing a male fan for the first time, so I’m a little nervous,” An Ruifeng said, blinking his beautiful gray eyes a couple of times. 

… …

Xu Zhiqiang arranged for a nanny car to pick up the two men when they descended the mountain. Ling Xi’s gaze was fixed on the phone in his palm. The phone’s signal increased from “no signal” to “full range” from the top to the bottom of the mountain, but it didn’t ring once.

An Ruifeng inquired as to what he was looking at. Ling Xi smiled bitterly and tossed the phone aside: “Every day on the mountain since Wu-ge was reassigned, I’ve been wondering when the new agent would call me. When will the company contact me directly about this? They haven’t contacted me in a long time; does this indicate that for the next two years… I won’t be able to release a new album?” He hadn’t dared to pronounce these few words for fear of them becoming a prophecy.

“Every artist works with an agent. Xu-ge treats me extremely well, takes good care of the things that need to be taken care of for me, and genuinely considers me to be family. I have everything you have, and his treatment of me is perfectly consistent. But, in the end, I’m not the artist Xu-ge is in charge of. My manager’s appointment is still a Yangtian Media matter, not an Upstart Entertainment one. So I always look forward to the day when my phone will ring and someone will introduce themselves as my new agent and promise to cooperate well with me over the next two years.” 

Ling Xi picked his hands: “When I was on the mountain before, I told myself that the reason they couldn’t contact me had to be the poor signal on the mountain. As a result, I came down the mountain today and had requested Wu-ge a few days ago to notify the company that I would be returning today, but the phone hasn’t rung yet.”

When An Ruifeng observed his depressed appearance, he became quite distressed. Ling Xi, in his opinion, excelled in everything. If it hadn’t been for the fact that the company’s operations were too small and it hadn’t discovered a suitable niche when he first debuted, Ling Xi may now be known as the “Prince of Love Songs” or something similar. He’d listened to his songs. The lyrics were emotional, and the tunes were melodious, yet they never became popular.

“If you wish to cancel the contract and open your own studio, I will assist you in settling the penalty fees, and you won’t have to worry about the follow-up promotion.” An Ruifeng eventually spoke these words after much thought. He had been hesitant to discuss agent-related matters with Ling Xi for fear of hurting Ling Xi’s self-esteem. Furthermore, when he sent Wu Youpeng down the mountain, Wu Youpeng made it abundantly clear that he did not want An Ruifeng to intercede, therefore An Ruifeng had not said anything during this time.

Prior to this day, Ling Xi always wore an expression that indicated he didn’t mind the absence of an agent. For the first time, he had a sad expression on his face. 

“What are you worrying about?” said Ling Xi, turning to hug him. “Actually, if my agent did not abruptly change, I planned to leave the entertainment industry after my contract expires in two years. I’ve come to terms with an uncomfortable fact. I’m not untalented, but there are those who are more gifted than me. Not only are they talented, but they are also more hardworking, more attractive, and younger than me… Even if you spend a lot of money to raise me, it’s pointless. Money can be used to buy an award, but purchasing one for myself is meaningless. As my own competence is insufficient, you should not buy an award with money.”

An Ruifeng didn’t want to hear him utter such disheartened things. He embraced him and rested his chin on his shoulder: “Who says you can’t win an award based on your ability? You can sing so well, you can definitely win an award.”

“That’s because you sing so terribly that you think everyone else’s singing is pleasant to hear.” Ling Xi mocked him. “I’ve been muddling along here for eleven years, and I’m well aware of my shortcomings. The truth is that I lack the strong desire to succeed. It makes no difference to me whether I sing in front of 10,000 or 100 people. I don’t want to cultivate immortality; but want to attain enlightenment via the power of thought, relying on the faith of the believers.”

An Ruifeng’s time in the circle was much shorter than Ling Xi’s. The entertainment industry was very cruel. In the past few years, he had seen many full of mettle youngsters quit the entertainment industry discouraged after years of struggle. But Ling Xi was different from them. He was not avoiding challenges; rather, he was retreating bravely. He had long planned his retreat — he would turn around and throw himself into a food and beverage chain business, and he had even found a great free spokesperson. 

It was merely that there was a great difference between “active retirement” and “passive retirement,” and no artist could be happy while his or her future was unclear. Ling Xi also needed to think carefully about how he would fearlessly engage in a war of wits with those people once he returned to the company.

They held each other tightly for a long time. Fortunately, there were no other occupants in the nanny car. Because the driver was smoking outside the car and Xu Zhiqiang was on the phone nearby, no one was blinded, no matter how sticky they were. The nanny car’s door was knocked just as they were getting cozy.

The nanny car’s windows were all covered in black films, making the inside of the vehicle invisible. Outside the door, Xu Zhiqiang deliberately raised his voice and yelled: “An Ruifeng, Ling Xi, the screenwriter is here. Come on out and say hello!” In actuality, he was warning them that if they got into any funny business in the car, they should tidy up their clothes before exiting.

Luckily, the two of them were merely chatting, and their clothes were all neatly worn on them. An Ruifeng tidied up a little before opening the car door. 

The beaming(but cold-blooded) screenwriter greeted them cheerfully outside the door: “You were walking too fast just now. The Taoist priest informed me that he had forgotten to give you something and asked me to bring it to you.” He then took out a simple yet elegant kraft paper envelope from his pocket and handed it to them.

What did the Taoist priest give them?

Ling Xi was very curious and turned it back and forth after receiving it. A few words were written on the envelope: “To the two little friends, An Ruifeng and Ling Xi.”

When he opened the envelope, he discovered two pieces of thin yellow paper, each about seven or eight centimeters broad and twenty centimeters long. The scent of the incense burning at the Taoist temple lingered on them. Cinnabar was used to paint intricate Dao seals on the two pieces of paper. Two red seals were printed on top, and a line of unconstrained cinnabar red characters was written beneath— 

—yīn yuán harmony talisman.

When Xu Zhiqiang saw the words clearly, he panicked and tried to obstruct the screenwriter daren‘s line of sight. Being the agent for a gay celebrity was really difficult. Even with thousands of safeguards, it was impossible to protect against unexpected catastrophes.

The screenwriter daren calmly pushed away the irksome agent, carefully examined the words on the talisman with his hands behind his back, and then glanced at the two parties whose faces were flushed. He waved his hand grandly and said very complacently: “What are you blocking and pretending for? I’ve written so many love stories; how can I not see the love in their eyes.”