Spoiled - Chapter 11

Fang Baijing had just finished changing into his costume with the help of the makeup artist when Ji Weile finally arrived, late. He had sprinted over from the film studio entrance and was covered in sweat.

“Stop—” Before Ji Weile could get close, Fang Baijing, who was sitting in front of the mirror getting his makeup done, changed his expression and held out his arm, palm facing Ji Weile: “Don’t come any closer! I can smell you!”

Ji Weile dragged a chair over to the air conditioner, pulled at his collar to cool down, and finally noticed the missed calls on his phone.

He turned around and could only see Fang Baijing’s face in the mirror.

The makeup mirror was embedded with LED lights, which easily exposed every flaw on a face, but all they illuminated on Fang Baijing’s face were fine, downy hairs.

He was tilting his head back, his appearance completely submissive, a stark contrast to his personality.

The female makeup artist was drawing his eyeliner. Fang Baijing cooperated by looking up at the ceiling.

Ji Weile secretly lamented how such a handsome face belonged to someone with such a terrible temper, and asked, “Baijing, why did you call me?”

Fang Baijing’s eyeliner was just finished. It wasn’t dark or heavy, just extending the corner of his eye slightly.

His eyelids lifted slightly. He glanced at Ji Weile through the mirror, then turned his head and gave a heavy, awkward “Hmph.”

Ji Weile blinked, confused, and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Fang Baijing glanced outside the door, pursed his lips, let the makeup artist apply lipstick, and mumbled vaguely, “Nothing.”

After all, having stumbled upon someone else’s secret, Fang Baijing always felt awkward whenever he saw Zhuang Chengyan on set.

Zhuang Chengyan probably felt the same, so they avoided each other whenever possible.

Fortunately, this was a major female lead drama, so he didn’t have many scenes with Zhuang Chengyan, and the director planned to film their joint scenes later.

Fang Baijing and Zhuang Chengyan treated each other like air for a while.

However, Fang Baijing also treated Fu Feng’s words like wind past his ear and grew increasingly familiar with Chen Yun, although… he still maintained some distance and, at the very least, obediently followed the script.

Only after Fu Feng had investigated Chen Yun’s eighteen generations of ancestors was he extremely reluctantly able to agree to the purely platonic friendship between Fang Baijing and her.

Fang Baijing and Chen Yun sat on the side waiting for their scene. He ordered coffee for most of the crew. Knowing Chen Yun was afraid of gaining weight, he specifically chose an Iced Americano for her, while he, without any pressure, held a Frappuccino and drank it.

Halfway through drinking, Zhuang Chengyan finally arrived. On such a hot day, he was wrapped in a black jacket, looking like a vampire who had just emerged from a castle.

“Isn’t he hot?” Chen Yun couldn’t help but whisper. “It’s so hot, and I see he’s sweating a lot.”

Fang Baijing absently mumbled a few “Mm-hm’s.”

He guessed that Zhuang Chengyan had played too hard, and this time, the injuries might not just be on his back, but also on his arms, which was why he needed to cover them up.

But that was someone else’s business, so Fang Baijing casually offered, “Maybe he caught a cold.”

“Maybe,” Chen Yun remarked. “His face is quite pale, and judging by the dark circles, he hasn’t slept much.” She frowned, considering a very career-focused question: “He didn’t get a girlfriend and overdo it, did he? How am I supposed to work with him on fan service then?”

Fang Baijing was nearly choked to death by her sudden question. A mouthful of ice chips got stuck in his throat, and he coughed violently.

Chen Yun glanced at him and swore, “Jerk!”

“Sister Chen! Get ready!” The floor manager in front of the camera finally turned around and called for her.

Fang Baijing breathed a sigh of relief.

However, Zhuang Chengyan’s state was very off today. He started having endless retakes (NGs).

Fang Baijing looked at Chen Yun’s face and thought she was on the verge of exploding.

Fang Baijing was standing by, half-asleep from waiting, when Ji Weile suddenly brought his ringing phone over.

He looked down, and the corners of his mouth genuinely curled up: “Xiao Zi! Why are you using a domestic number? Are you back?”

He and Xiao Jing had been best friends for over ten years, but a few months ago, Xiao Jing had been exiled to Africa by his father, so they hadn’t seen each other for a while.

“I f*cking messaged you days ago to say I was coming back! Why the h*ll don’t you check your messages?”

Xiao Jing’s opening was still as vulgar as Fang Baijing remembered.

He held the phone away from his ear to avoid being deafened by Xiao Jing’s loud voice, and said matter-of-factly: “I have so many messages on my phone! How am I supposed to know when you sent it?”

“Scram, scram!” Xiao Jing laughed and swore. “I’m calling to ask you out for dinner! Are you coming?”

Fang Baijing smiled and said, “Of course! You pick a place, and I’ll come over once I finish filming!”

He and Xiao Jing chatted about random nonsense for a few more minutes before hanging up.

Fang Baijing was definitely happy that his long-unseen friend was back, but the moment he hung up, he immediately remembered Fu Feng’s existence.

It’s just… just dinner with a friend. Fang Baijing felt guilty. After a moment of internal struggle, he still called Fu Feng. It’s just dinner with a friend. What’s wrong with letting him know!

Fu Feng always answered his calls quickly. His voice sounded a little surprised: “What is it?”

Fang Baijing’s tone was formal, like a school kid reporting to a teacher, yet his joy couldn’t be suppressed: “Xiao Jing is back. I’m going to have dinner with him tonight!”

The implication was that he wouldn’t be back for dinner. “…Xiao Jing?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know him,” Fang Baijing rolled his eyes. “You clearly do.”

He was right; they did know each other.

Fu Feng was sitting at his office desk. He suddenly got up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, which was at a height that would make anyone with a fear of heights weak in the knees.

He took a cigarette from the box and held it between his lips.

Fu Feng said, “I know him.” The lighter ignited the cigarette in his mouth. Fu Feng’s posture while smoking was awkward: “Go, then. Remember to send me the address.”

“Got it! Got it!” Fang Baijing grew impatient after only a few words with him.

Even through the distorted sound, Fu Feng could imagine Fang Baijing raising an eyebrow on the other end of the line, a sight as vivid as a painting.

But this time, Fang Baijing didn’t rush to hang up. Instead, he hesitated and stiffly asked, “Are you… are you smoking again?”

Fang Baijing’s voice was like a breath, faint and unclear.

“Mm-hm,” Fu Feng replied. “I won’t smoke anymore.” He used the back of his hand to stub out the cigarette butt in the ashtray, and then reminded him again, “Finish early. I’ll come pick you up.”

Fang Baijing reluctantly mumbled a few responses, and then hung up with a “Drip—.”

Fu Feng listened to the dial tone for a moment before frowning and putting the phone on the desk. A faint scent of smoke lingered in the office.

He wasn’t addicted to smoking and didn’t usually smoke, but a cigarette was indeed a good tool for calming down, or rather, for getting him to think clearly.

Fu Feng certainly knew Xiao Jing. Long, long ago, Fu Feng knew that Xiao Jing was a very good friend of Fang Baijing’s—the two were so close they could share a pair of trousers, even better friends than many blood brothers.

His brow furrowed slightly.

He was back, so be it. After all, although Xiao Jing was a nuisance, Fang Baijing genuinely considered him his best friend.

So, when Xiao Jing’s father talked to him about Xiao Jing, and anxiously asked him if he should “send Xiao Jing to Africa for some tough training,” Fu Feng just nodded and gave a measured opinion: “You can send him away for a few months.”

After Xiao Jing left, Fang Baijing spent much more time with him.

Fang Baijing finished filming and hurried to the place he had arranged to meet Xiao Jing. Xiao Jing had booked a sky-high restaurant.

The moment he walked in, he heard the gentle, revolving sound of a violin, and Fang Baijing nearly got goosebumps everywhere.

He spotted Xiao Jing in the corner immediately.

He quickly walked over and immediately swatted the back of his head: “Are you sick? Why would you pick a place like this for just the two of us to eat?”

Xiao Jing turned his head innocently and said, “The dessert here is really good.”

Fang Baijing pressed his hand to his forehead, then obediently pulled out a chair and sat down.

A bottle of champagne was opened nearby. Xiao Jing asked, “Want some?”

Fang Baijing nodded. The waiter nearby picked up the bottle and poured him a drink.

After half a year, Fang Baijing didn’t think Xiao Jing had changed much; at least his mocking tone was exactly the same.

“F*ck! My dad is totally ruthless! I thought he was just joking when he said he’d send me to Africa to dig for diamonds, but he actually sent me?? And I had to sneak back to the country myself!” Xiao Jing held out his hand to compare his skin color with Fang Baijing’s: “Look how dark I’ve gotten!”

Fang Baijing had a headache from his noise and put a finger to his lips in a gesture to silence him: “Shhh.”

Xiao Jing looked heartbroken and said, “Our feelings have faded, right?”

“Weren’t our feelings always this faded?”

“…” Xiao Jing suppressed the urge to hit Fang Baijing and asked quietly, “So, how are things between you and Fu Feng?”

Fang Baijing’s hand, holding the fork, suddenly tightened. He pulled back his lips and said sarcastically, “Things are great—just as great as your relationship with your dad.”

“Then who is the ‘Dad’ between you and Fu Feng?”

Fang Baijing couldn’t resist kicking him, but he still glanced around, then put on a stern face and declared, “Of course it’s me!”

Seeing Fang Baijing act this way, Xiao Jing was slightly relieved. At least Fu Feng hadn’t done anything to him, for sure.

Xiao Jing still felt quite guilty, after all, Fu Feng and Fang Baijing getting together was somewhat related to him.

He said, conflicted, “I’ll split my dessert with you later.”

“Idiot, who wants your food?” Fang Baijing, always tough on the outside but soft on the inside, said, “You won’t starve. If it’s not enough, order more. I’m paying today.”

Fang Baijing didn’t have much of an appetite and mostly rested his chin on his hand, watching Xiao Jing eat. Finally, he was so disgusted by Xiao Jing’s eating style that he disdainfully looked away and scanned the surroundings.

There weren’t many people in the restaurant, just a few scattered tables.

“Ding—”

The elevator outside the door opened the instant Fang Baijing turned his head.

The figure who stepped out stunned Fang Baijing. It was a brown-haired, blue-eyed man, but his features were softened, leaning towards an Asian look, more like a mixed-race person.

He wore a flashy Hawaiian shirt, and on his right arm was a delicate-looking young man. He walked forward with his chin held high, not glancing to either side.

The closer he walked, the clearer Fang Baijing could see the small scar on his forehead.

“Screeech—”

Fang Baijing involuntarily stood up. The chair scraping across the floor made a slightly grating sound, but only Fang Baijing seemed to notice it.

Xiao Jing was still busy eating and probably hadn’t noticed anything.

His heart was beating quickly. Even after the man walked out of his line of sight, Fang Baijing couldn’t control his heart rate.

His phone silently flashed—it was Fu Feng calling.

Fang Baijing answered the call. The phone felt hot against his ear.

Fu Feng’s voice came through: “Are you done eating?”

“I saw that person,” Fang Baijing blinked blankly. He wasn’t actually scared, but Fu Feng’s voice made him feel safer. Fang Baijing said softly, “I saw the person whose head I smashed open last time.”

The noises on Fu Feng’s end stopped for a moment.

Fang Baijing then heard the dull sound of a door opening, followed by the clamor of a busy street. Fu Feng’s voice cut through it: “Wait for me.”

Fang Baijing realized belatedly, “Where are you?”

Fu Feng replied concisely, “Downstairs.” His voice carried a subtle warning: “Don’t move around. Wait for me to come up.”