Xu Jingzhe eventually managed to herd the pigs back to the girl’s house. He was drenched in sweat by the end of it, the hair under his hat sticking to his forehead. However, he refused to take the hat off, worried about how his hair would look.

After returning to the guesthouse, Xu Jingzhe washed his hair. He’d gotten a haircut after filming Green Water, trimming off the parts that he’d deliberately grown out. His hair was very soft, so the hairstylist had permed it, giving him some waves that were in style nowadays.

Liang Yu hadn’t followed him back. After saying those few words, he hoisted the tree back onto his shoulders and left. Xu Jingzhe heard from the girl that the tree still needed to be cut into lumber. Somewhat surprised, he asked, “They’re cut by hand?”

The girl nodded. “How else would it be done? They’re always cut by strong men.”

“…” Xu Jingzhe was almost starting to feel a little dizzy after hearing so much about “strong men”. After some thought, he asked if the guesthouse sold any snacks.

The girl mentioned that they had fried mochi cakesTranslator’s Note油炸糕 or fried mochi cakes are a traditional Chinese pastry made by wrapping fillings such as sweet red bean paste or sugar in a dough of yellow millet flour or glutinous rice flour and deep-frying them.. Xu Jingzhe had never tried them before, so he asked for a bowl, as well as some blueberry juice.

Glancing at the blazing sun outside, he resigned himself to putting his hat back on, fully geared up to find his own “strong man”.

The wood chopping area was quite makeshift. It was located right next to the forest, surrounded by a rectangular ring of dirt. The men each had their own pile of wood, working separately in their own corners.

Liang Yu wasn’t given fewer logs to split just because it was his first day. The work here was paid by the day, and many, like him, came to find temporary work. After the spring planting season, there wasn’t much to do besides tourism, so men looking to earn some extra money would often take up this kind of physical work.

One of the men nearby asked him where he was from. “You’re not from here, are you? Is your wife okay with you leaving her by herself?”

Liang Yu placed a log upright and raised his axe above his head. His back muscles rippled like waves, and, with a sharp crack, the log split cleanly in two. “My wife came here with me,” he said, placing another log on the stump.

The man looked a little envious. “No kids yet, huh? Must be nice, having someone to hold at night.”

Liang Yu glanced at him and smiled but said nothing. He actually wasn’t particularly talkative with strangers. At his level, he didn’t really need to be. Besides, Liang Yu was famous for making friends at the mahjong table, where the only words needed were “pong”, “kong”, and “chow”.

By the time Xu Jingzhe arrived, Liang Yu was the only one still chopping wood. Half of his wood pile was already gone, stacked neatly to the side.

Liang Yu spotted Xu Jingzhe from afar and threw his axe to the side. He took off his gloves and rested one foot on the stump as he waited for him to come over.

“Are you hungry?” Xu Jingzhe asked, bringing out the bowl of crispy, golden fried mochi cakes. Liang Yu quickly washed his hands before breaking one open, revealing the steaming red bean paste wrapped in sticky glutinous rice.

Xu Jingzhe looked at the unchopped wood and felt a little distressed on the other’s behalf. “Do you have to chop all of that?”

Liang Yu stuffed a fried mochi cake into his mouth. He brushed the crumbs away from his lips, rubbing them between his fingers, and said, “I’ll finish chopping it over the next few days. We’ll be filming here for the next six months, so there will be other work to do by the time winter rolls around.”

Xu Jingzhe could only stay until the end of the year at most, and, even then, filming progress could be unpredictable. All sorts of mishaps could occur if they filmed during bad weather. Once, Qiao Zhenqiao was filming a movie in Africa when they were interrupted by water buffalo migration. The entire crew was forced to a standstill for two months. Liang Yu had almost felt like a refugee stranded in Africa.

He didn’t say any of this, but Xu Jingzhe knew it all too well. Filmmaking involved high costs and long hours. Of course, the potential rewards were just as high, real gains and tangible box office returns. There were many instances in which a film’s enormous budget bankrupt a production company. Films like the one Liang Yu was making now only required the actors to endure a little hardship. It didn’t require very many special effects, and the filming environment already provided an advantage.

Lin Zhuoyu had spent the past few days scouting locations all around the area. Having arrived even earlier than Xu Jingzhe and Liang Yu, he’d already integrated himself completely with the area, blending in seamlessly with the locals.

Liang Yu had truly worked himself to the bone and was starving. He ate all the fried mochi cakes in one go and also drank the blueberry juice that Xu Jingzhe brought. Then, he asked Xu Jingzhe if Qin Wan had approached him.

“She asked me if I wanted to make a cameo.” Xu Jingzhe hesitated. “If I do, I’d probably have to start working out right away, wouldn’t I?”

Liang Yu looked at him and said, “You could play an accountant that was transferred from the city. I’ve seen some of the accountants for the tree farm. They’re not as rugged as the forestry workers.”

Xu Jingzhe laughed and asked, “Does the script even have such a character?”

Liang Yu: “Lin Zhuoyu’s always changing stuff on the fly and adding random characters. You’ll see once we get to the set.”

The director was busy, the actors were busy, the camera crew was busy, and no one had any spare time to pay attention to anyone else. However, Qin Wan, as a producer, had plenty of experience to navigate it. After spending a few days to confirm that contracts were all in order and that they had all the necessary permits, she was ready to leave.

“I’ll be back in a couple of weeks.” Qin Wan’s departure date just so happened to be the day several other actors arrived. Before leaving, she specifically sought Xu Jingzhe out to say, “If Director Lin asks you to make a cameo, just let me know. I’ll draft a contract for Zhang Man.”

Xu Jingzhe verbally agreed, but, inwardly, he hadn’t taken it too seriously. Who could say for certain about something that had yet to be decided?

Besides, his attention was much more focused on Liang Yu than it was on whether or not he’d make a cameo.

In Mohe, summer days could stretch to as long as sixteen hours. Liang Yu didn’t finish working until after nine in the evening. He’d eat dinner, take a shower, and collapse into bed, so exhausted that he couldn’t even keep his eyes open.

Xu Jingzhe lay beside him, carefully inspecting the fresh blisters on his palms.

“Don’t worry about it,” Liang Yu murmured with his eyes closed. “They’ll pop by tomorrow.”

Xu Jingzhe hummed in response. Liang Yu scooted closer to him for a kiss.

Xu Jingzhe kissed him, a complicated mood settling inside him. He asked, “How do you manage such heavy work when you’re such a softie?”

In his mind, Liang Yu was a contradictory person. He was quick to anger, walking around like a lit match. He was also quick to tears, as sensitive as a girl. He was fragile, delicate, yet, at the same time, he was the most resilient, the most willing to endure hardship.

He was like a mountain, like the silent moon hanging above it, like the dark earth and clear stream winding through it.

Liang Yu muttered, “What are you talking about? It’s not like I cried.”

Xu Jingzhe laughed and pulled him into a hug. “I didn’t say that you did.”

Xu Jingzhe couldn’t pinpoint when exactly they had fallen asleep. It felt as though he’d just closed his eyes. Liang Yu, however, was already getting out of bed again. Hearing faint movement, Xu Jingzhe instinctively reached for his phone to check the time.

It wasn’t even five, yet the sky in Mohe was already beginning to lighten.

Xu Jingzhe: “…”

Liang Yu moved quietly, likely because he was trying not to wake him. He dressed, grabbed a basin, and went out to wash up.

The girl from the guesthouse was also up. Xu Jingzhe heard the two of them greet each other in the hallway.

“Is there any congee for breakfast?” Xu Jingzhe heard Liang Yu ask.

The girl said, “No, we have steamed buns for breakfast today. However, we do have rice. Would you like to make some congee yourself?”

“Alright,” Liang Yu agreed, but what he said afterwards wasn’t very pleasant, his tone bordering on bossy. “Don’t let my friend do any work today. Also, make sure to keep quiet. Don’t wake him up.”

The girl: “…”