Time flies. Four years later, I was no longer some tiny part-timer who came running whenever someone shouted and vanished whenever they waved me away. “Yin PD, the camera crew says they’re ready.”
“Wait a second.”
I sat in front of the monitor and raised a hand, signaling the staff to pause.
The model was already in position, and the lighting was more or less adjusted, but after staring at the screen for a few seconds, I still felt like something was off.
“Move that light on the right a little farther back. The light on her face is too flat right now. I want the contour on the right side to stand out more.”
“Got it.” The lighting crew looked toward me and immediately made the adjustment.
“Move Camera Two a little to the left too.” I stood up and walked over to the photographer for a look. “Here.” I gestured to a spot with my hand.
“The movement in the second section will go to the right. At this angle, the set in front will block it.”
The photographer followed my gesture with his eyes, then nodded. “Understood.”
“Stylist, could you fix the back of the outfit one more time? It got a little wrinkled when she sat down just now.”
“Sure.”
I glanced down at the production schedule in my hand.
3:17 p.m. We were twelve minutes behind schedule.
“Okay, we’ll start in five minutes.”
“Got it—”
The staff scattered to their respective positions. I sat back down in front of the monitor and picked up the walkie-talkie. “Final checks, everyone. We’re going straight into the second section in five minutes.”
“Copy.”
“Camera’s good.”
“Lighting’s good.”
One voice after another came through the walkie-talkie. I lowered my head and made a mark on the schedule.
Sometimes, even I found it kind of incredible.
Four years ago, I was still the rookie who would grab whatever was needed and sprint across the studio the second someone shouted, “Zhixia! Tape!” from the other side.
But now—
“Yin PD.” My assistant hurried over with a tablet. “The brand wants to add another close-up shot to the last outfit at the last minute. Is that okay?”
“They’re only saying this now?”
She looked guilty. I took a deep breath.
That was daily life as a producer. Just when you thought everything was perfectly arranged, someone would suddenly come running over to tell you—
“Sorry, we’d like to add a little something.”
“Have you checked with hair and makeup?”
“Not yet.”
I pressed my temples. “Ask them first. What time is the model’s next schedule?”
“Six.”
I checked the time.
“We can add it, but fifteen minutes at most. Confirm with the photographer what shots they want first. Don’t let them come back at the end and say it’s different from what they imagined.”
“Okay!”
My assistant had barely turned around when I called her back. “Wait.”
“Yes? What is it?”
“Have you eaten lunch?”
She froze, then slowly answered, “...Not yet.”
“Then go eat first.”
“But—”
I cut her off. “The shoot won’t collapse in fifteen minutes. And take Xiaomin with you. She hasn’t eaten either.”
My assistant’s eyes widened.
“How do you know?”
“She’s been staring at the rice ball on the table since noon.”
“...Okay.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Yin PD.”
I waved her off and sent her away.
Back when I was a rookie, one of the things I thought about most was this—
If I ever got to run a set myself, I absolutely would not make my staff wait until four in the afternoon to eat lunch.
But once I actually reached this position, I realized it wasn’t that our seniors had no conscience. This industry just got so busy that, once things really got going, you could forget your own name.
“Yin PD! Yin PD!”
“...What is it now?”
Please, I really didn’t want to hear about another emergency.
“It looks like an idol came to the studio next door.”
I looked up. A staff member was standing by the door, her eyes practically glowing.
“This is a photography studio. Why are you making such a big deal out of an idol being here?”
“Aren’t you curious who it is?”
“I’m more curious what time we can wrap.”
“Bai Shijun from NOVER.”
My hand stopped.
“Bai Shijun is filming a commercial next door today.”
Bai Shijun.
It had been a long time since that name had appeared in my life so suddenly.
“Oh.”
I lowered my head and continued looking at the schedule.
“Why are you so cold, Yin PD? Bai Shijun is here too.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“He’s Bai Shijun!”
Of course I knew. I’d known him longer than she had.
I’d known him since he was nineteen.
I’d seen him dye his hair blond for the first time.
I’d watched his twentieth-birthday livestream and knew what kind of cake he ate.
I even knew which foot he’d injured when he used to dance.
I knew that when he got nervous, he unconsciously touched his ear...
Wait.
Why the hell did I still remember that?
“Work.” I tapped my pen against the desk. “Someone else’s idol has nothing to do with us.”
“Fine.”
She left with a deeply disappointed expression.
I turned my attention back to the monitor.
The person I used to dream about meeting was now less than a few dozen yards away.
But there was no high-school-style screaming, no college-era anticipation of Please, just let me see him once, and definitely no running to the bathroom to check my bangs in the mirror.
My brain had, in fact, stopped working for a brief moment.
“Yin PD, we’re ready!”
“Okay.” I put on my headset. “Everyone, get ready.”
Work was more important.
Bai Shijun? Who cared where he was?
As it turned out, people really shouldn’t make big claims too early.
At 4:40 p.m., I went to the bathroom. On my way back, I was still looking down and replying to messages.
When I passed an emergency exit—
BANG!
I jumped.
“What was that?”
BANG, BANG!
The sound came from behind the safety door again.
I stopped and realized someone seemed to be trapped inside.
“Is anyone there?”
I walked up to the door. There was a one-second silence from the other side.
“Yes.”
It was a man’s voice.
“Are you locked in?”
“What else would I be doing in here, knocking out a beat?”
I frowned. Why did this guy sound so punchable?
“Then keep knocking.” I turned around.
“Hey! Wait.”
“What?”
“Help me open the door.”
“Weren’t you just being clever?”
“I apologize... Sorry, could you help me open it?”
That was better.
I took my work ID out of my pocket and tapped it against the sensor beside the door.
Beep—the light turned red.
“Can’t you open it?” came the voice from behind the door.
“Hold on... Don’t distract me.”
I tried again. Beep—the light was still red.
“I was just asking.”
“Even if you ask, it’s not suddenly going to sense your sincerity.”
There was another two-second silence from behind the door.
“Are you always this hot-tempered?”
I glared at the door.
“Say one more word and I’m seriously leaving.”
“Okay, I’ll shut up.”
I pressed my work ID to the sensor again. Still red.
This was so weird. I tried changing the angle.
“Are you sure you know how to use it?”
“Shut up.”
A laugh came from inside, and for some reason, that made me even angrier.
Who was the one trapped in there?
Why was he still laughing?
I swiped again.
Beep—the light finally turned green.
I grabbed the handle and pulled it toward me. The safety door opened.
The person inside took one step forward.
I looked up, and he looked down at me.
“Tha—”
Before I could finish, we both froze.
Black cap. He was still in his filming outfit, his bangs falling slightly over his forehead. Those eyes...
It felt like someone had suddenly pulled the plug on my brain.
Completely blank.
I’d seen that face thousands of times through a screen.
I’d seen it from behind a stage.
I’d seen it on albums.
Back in high school, I’d even taped his photos directly in front of my desk. Every morning when I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw wasn’t my mom. It was him.
Even though I’d taken down every photo related to him from my room, I still recognized him at a glance.
The person standing in front of me was Bai Shijun.
And—he was so close. Close enough that I noticed for the first time that his eyelashes really were incredibly long.
No... Yin Zhixia, where exactly are you looking right now?
He was your former ult!!! Former. Ult.
Bai Shijun looked at me.
Probably noticing that my reaction was strange, he raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Do you know me?”
I came back to myself. “No.”
Bai Shijun: “...”
Me: “...”
What an idiot thing to say. Who didn’t know Bai Shijun?
“I mean, I know who you are, but we don’t know each other.”
“Ohhh.” He nodded. “Then why did you stare blankly for so long? Don’t tell me you’re a fan too.”
“I’m not!”
I hurriedly denied it, and the corners of Bai Shijun’s mouth slowly lifted.
That smile... There was a time when seeing that smile would’ve made me go feral at my phone for half a day.
Now—
I just thought it looked incredibly punchable.
“Do you know how stupid you looked being locked in there just now?”
“What?”
A scene suddenly appeared in my mind: Bai Shijun, the esteemed leader of NOVER and an idol who had debuted nine years ago, trapped alone behind a safety door, pounding on it over and over, then asking whether I knew how to use a key card.
Pfft.
I tried to hold it in. No, no, that would be rude, but...
“Pff—hahahahahahaha!”
I really couldn’t hold it in and burst out laughing.
Bai Shijun’s expression slowly changed from confusion to disbelief.
“What are you laughing at?”
“Nothing... haha...”
“You’re obviously laughing.”
“Sorry.” I covered my mouth.
“You look like you’re not sorry at all.” His face fell. “What exactly is so funny?”
“How did you manage to lock yourself in there?”
“The door closed on its own.”
“Bai Shijun, how old are you this year?”
He paused.
“...Twenty-eight.”
“A twenty-eight-year-old who still manages to lock himself behind a safety door.”
“I just said it was the door—”
“Hahahahahaha!”
“Hey.” He finally lost his patience. “You’re seriously rude.”
“S-sorry.”
I wiped away the tears of laughter from the corners of my eyes.
“Don’t apologize while laughing.”
How strange. If someone had told seventeen-year-old me that one day I would really meet Bai Shijun, and that the first thing I’d do was point at his face and laugh, I would’ve thought they were insane.
Bai Shijun stared at me for a few seconds.
“Have we met before?”
“No.” I shook my head.
“Then why are you acting like you know me so well?”
My smile faltered.
Because I really did know him well. Or at least, I used to. It was just a one-sided familiarity.
“Maybe you just have one of those faces that doesn’t feel distant.”
“...Is that a compliment?”
“You can take it that way.”
My rescue mission was complete, so I turned to leave.
“Wait.”
Bai Shijun suddenly stepped forward. I instinctively backed up, and he lowered his head before reaching out and hooking a finger under the work ID hanging from my chest.
“What are you doing?” I grabbed his hand. “You’re so rude!”
“Likewise.” He lowered his eyes to my ID. “Yin. Zhi. Xia.”
He pronounced each character one at a time.
I didn’t know why, but hearing my name come out of his mouth made my heart skip.
...What was wrong with me?
It was just my name. Who knew how many people said it every day?
He looked at me with an impish, devilish smile. “I’ll remember you.”
Bai Shijun let go of my work ID. “If I get locked in there again, I can find you.”
“Go ahead and live in there for the rest of your life.”
He laughed. Before he could reply, I turned and walked away. His voice followed me from behind.
“Yin Zhixia.”
I looked back.
“What now?”
He leaned against the safety door, a smile still playing at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks for today.”
I froze for a second, then immediately turned back around. After walking a few steps, I secretly touched my chest.
Why was my heart beating so hard?
He was my former ult. That was basically the same thing as an ex-boyfriend.
It was perfectly normal for your heart to react a little when your ex-boyfriend suddenly appeared in front of you, right?
Although—
I’d never dated him at all.