Demon Consort Runs into the Beijing Crown Prince - Chapter 48

In Chu Muyun’s memory, Han Jin was a decent actor, but during their first scene together today, he kept flubbing his lines.

The scene depicted the two male leads meeting for the first time. In the spring sunlight, amidst the bustling streets, Bu Chongxue impulsively tapped Xue Ming, a passing young swordsman, on the shoulder.

“Hey, I’m starving. Would you happen to be feeling generous and treat me to a meal?”

—The Young Sect Leader of the Demonic Sect had brought plenty of silver when he snuck out, but he’d just been swindled out of it all by a roadside scammer pretending to sell himself to bury his father.

“With so many people around, why pick me?” Xue Ming asked, slightly surprised, meeting a face brighter than the spring sunlight.

“I heard rich people in silk and brocade are stingy, and those with gloomy faces are stingy, too. But you look both poor and kind!” Bu Chongxue declared confidently, his eyes curving into crescent moons.

He possessed both the innocence of someone unfamiliar with the world and the cunning of a little fox.

“…Fine, I’ll treat you to noodles.”

After sharing two bowls of plain Noodles at a nearby noodle shop, the two ended up washing dishes in the kitchen until midnight. Xue Ming, who had offered to pay, was now completely penniless.

Even for such a simple scene, Han Jin’s performance was stiff and unnatural, his expressions and movements awkward. Chu Muyun sensed that Han Jin seemed ill at ease around him.

Maybe he’s just a slow starter, Chu Muyun thought.

The director pulled Han Jin aside for a lengthy discussion, and after several retakes, they finally got the shot.

The next scene was a solo performance by Chu Muyun. His character in the drama was a master of light footwork, agile and graceful, requiring numerous wire action sequences.

The director asked if Chu Muyun preferred using a stunt double.

“Let me try it myself,” Chu Muyun replied. “I don’t need a stunt double. I have a dance background and good flexibility.”

Aware that Chu Muyun had recently won Dance Storm, the director nodded, “Alright, give it a shot.”

Chu Muyun began. His supple physique and dance training lent a natural grace to his movements. When suspended by the wires, he improvised a few extra flourishes. As he rose and fell, he moved with the lightness of a butterfly, appearing to truly fly rather than merely being hoisted. Even the hem of his robe fluttered beautifully.

“Excellent!” The director’s face lit up with approval.

Many dramas these days feature wire action scenes where actors either shoot straight up and down like elevators, or dangle awkwardly like kites with unstable centers of gravity, landing with clumsy thuds. This isn’t just due to directors’ low standards and lack of polish, but also to actors’ poor foundations and lack of dedication.

The director had initially planned to settle for “good enough,” but Chu Muyun’s performance far exceeded his expectations.

Since Chu Muyun could handle it, they decided to raise the difficulty. For Bu Chongxue’s debut scene, they choreographed a mid-air spin with multiple rotations before landing—a classic move from old-school martial arts dramas, rarely seen these days. With flower petals swirling from wind machines and his white robes billowing dramatically, he looked every bit the ethereal immortal.

“Perfect!” the director gave him a thumbs-up.

Xiao Xing, who had been filming the scene, exclaimed excitedly, “Teacher Chu, that was stunning!”

“Really? Send it to me,” Chu Muyun replied, beaming. He immediately forwarded the video to Lu Hanzhang.

Moments later, a reply came: [A washing machine on spin cycle?]

“???”

This man’s straight-male brain is beyond saving, Chu Muyun thought irritably.

But then another WeChat message popped up: [Beautiful.]

[Be careful not to get hurt.]

Chu Muyun replied instantly: [Okay, I’ll be careful.]

Over the next few days, filming progressed smoothly, and Han Jin’s NG rate decreased. However, during breaks between scenes, Han Jin would sometimes steal glances at Chu Muyun while drinking water, his gaze lingering when he thought Chu Muyun wasn’t looking.

“Teacher Chu, Han Jin’s looking over here,” Xiao Xing whispered. Chu Muyun glanced back, and Han Jin immediately pretended he was just casually looking around, shifting his gaze away.

Is his memory starting to loosen, too? Chu Muyun wondered. Does he find me increasingly familiar?

He didn’t dwell on it.

These past few days, the usually aloof and reserved Lu Hanzhang had become unusually clingy. Before, Chu Muyun would send photos, and Lu Hanzhang would reply with a simple “Beautiful.” Now, Lu Hanzhang asked twice daily what Chu Muyun was doing and insisted on receiving new photos, as if checking up on him.

Moreover, Lu Hanzhang had even started sending photos himself.

Ding! A new WeChat message arrived.

[Image.jpg]

[Do you like it?]

The accompanying photo showcased a set of fruit-themed jewelry. Each piece was meticulously crafted with rubies, sapphires, and emeralds, sculpted into leaves, blossoms, and berries. Diamond-studded branches completed the design, making each piece resemble a vibrant miniature garden—whimsical, adorable, and sparkling.

It perfectly matched Chu Muyun’s dragon-like aesthetic. He fell in love with it instantly.

[Beautiful! I love it!]

[Just bought it at auction. Waiting for you to come back and wear it.]

[My boss is the best! Love you!] Chu Muyun replied happily. Hehe, the Great King had bought him another wonderful gift.

On the other end of the line, Lu Hanzhang watched his phone screen and smiled faintly.

This little canary of his had been pampered in a nest of jewels. Could Han Jin, an actor ultimately working for capital, afford to keep him?

Ever since recognizing that the actor in the photo was the same General Han from his dream, Lu Hanzhang had harbored an instinctive hostility toward him.

[By the way, when are you coming tomorrow?] Chu Muyun asked again.

Lu Hanzhang had promised to visit him on set over the weekend, and Chu Muyun had been counting down the days.

[I’ll take a late flight after work tomorrow. I’ll arrive around midnight, so don’t wait for me for dinner. Eat without me.]

[Okay!]

Chu Muyun finished filming his scenes for the day in high spirits. Back at the hotel, he kept looking at the photo of the fruit pouch, imagining the brilliance of the colorful gemstones. He chatted with Lu Hanzhang, eagerly anticipating their reunion the next day.

The following afternoon, Chu Muyun grew restless, his mind filled with thoughts of his Great King. Knowing Lu Hanzhang wouldn’t arrive until late, the remaining hours stretched out like an eternity.

Despite his initial hesitation, Chu Muyun was a professional actor. The moment the script supervisor called “Action!”, he quickly snapped into character.

The filming schedule for Snow Moon’s Intertwined Radiance wasn’t particularly tight, and they wrapped up at 7 o’clock that evening. After changing out of his costume and removing his makeup, Chu Muyun was preparing to return to his hotel when he noticed Han Jin approaching him.

“Is there something you need?” Chu Muyun asked.

“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight? We could discuss our characters,” Han Jin suggested.

Uh…

Even Chu Muyun, usually oblivious, sensed that this “discussion about the characters” was just a pretext. How much did Han Jin truly remember? Or, like Li Yunbo from the Youthful Echo production crew, had Han Jin become too immersed in his role?

Was he developing feelings for Chu Muyun, just as Xue Ming had for Bu Chongxue?

He couldn’t shake the feeling that Han Jin’s gaze held ulterior motives.

Before Chu Muyun could decline, a chilling voice cut through the air from behind, “He won’t be having dinner with you. He’s having dinner with me.”

“Boss?” Chu Muyun turned around, his face instantly blooming into a radiant smile. He rushed forward to embrace the man. “Didn’t you say you wouldn’t arrive until midnight?”

The man wasn’t wearing his usual business suit. Instead, a long gray trench coat draped elegantly over his tall, upright frame, exuding an air of refined nobility that rivaled any celebrity’s.

“I didn’t have anything scheduled this afternoon, so I changed my flight and came early,” Lu Hanzhang said, hugging Chu Muyun tightly. Over Chu Muyun’s shoulder, he cast a dark, warning glance at Han Jin.

Just like a thousand years ago—don’t covet what isn’t yours!

Han Jin froze for a moment, then lowered his eyes to conceal his emotions and quietly stepped aside.

“We’re done filming! Let’s go get dinner!” Chu Muyun, oblivious to the tense undercurrents between the two men, nuzzled happily against his Great King. “I missed you so much! Your flight must have been exhausting. You’ll have to… work hard again tonight, hehe!”

He wanted it.

Ever since he’d first tasted his Great King, he’d been craving him constantly. Though he worried about Lu Hanzhang’s fatigue and wanted him to rest, watching without touching was too cruel. He simply couldn’t restrain himself.

“I’m not tired,” Lu Hanzhang murmured, lowering his head to kiss Chu Muyun. They were on set, with others nearby, so it was only a gentle, restrained peck on the forehead.

But the words he whispered in Chu Muyun’s ear were far more explicit, “After dinner, I’ll feed your other mouth until it’s stuffed, too.”

“Okay!” Chu Muyun giggled.

He told Xiao Xing, who was standing nearby, “You can go back on your own. Don’t wait for me,” then took Lu Hanzhang’s hand and headed toward the parking lot next to the film set.

Han Jin, who had left dejectedly earlier, had already reached the parking lot. He opened the door and climbed into a green-plated Bentley. Having filmed numerous historical dramas, Han Jin had acquired a property in Donghua City. After each day’s shoot, he either returned to his hotel or drove home.

Chu Muyun noticed him but paid no mind, his entire focus on the person beside him.

Lu Hanzhang, however, glanced at Han Jin’s car with a thoughtful expression.

The two men settled into a Maybach parked at the edge of the lot—a vehicle dispatched by the local branch of Lu Hanzhang’s company to transport President Lu. Lu Hanzhang gave the driver the name of their reserved restaurant, and the car pulled away.

As they exited Hengdian World Studios and entered Donghua City, the green-plated Bentley ahead of them followed the same route for a while.

“That Bentley up ahead,” Lu Hanzhang suddenly instructed the driver, “overtake it and don’t let it catch up.”

The driver immediately obeyed, accelerating past the Bentley with a roar.

“Huh? What Bentley?” Chu Muyun froze for two seconds before realizing the “B” on the Bentley’s emblem. His lips twitched. Lu Hanzhang can’t possibly not recognize that, can he?

The next moment, Lu Hanzhang had pinned him against the back seat, his fiercely possessive and scorching presence overwhelming him.

Lu Hanzhang’s lips devoured Chu Muyun’s, biting down hard. After days apart, Lu Hanzhang seemed starved, like a tiger or leopard desperate for meat.

“Mmm… so sudden…” Chu Muyun gasped, his eyes misting over as Lu Hanzhang’s kisses left him breathless.

“Why did Han Jin invite you to dinner?” Lu Hanzhang loosened his grip slightly, his voice sharp.

“I don’t know… maybe just to discuss the role,” Chu Muyun whispered, stealing cautious glances at the man before him. He began to smooth Lu Hanzhang’s ruffled feathers. “Are you jealous? I wasn’t planning to accept anyway. Even if you hadn’t said anything, I would have turned him down. I belong to you—I wouldn’t flirt with anyone else!”

Lu Hanzhang remained silent, then resumed his brutal assault, nearly tearing Chu Muyun’s lips.

His Little Canary wasn’t telling the truth.

Even he remembered Han Jin—the “General Han” from their shared dream. Chu Muyun’s memories were clearly more complete, he had once blurted out “Great King” in a moment of revelation. How could he possibly claim not to remember Han Jin now?

He deserved punishment.