Chapter 12

Xie Zhi paused for quite a while before replying, “How come you’re still dreaming? Weren’t you just teasing me when you brought up those things?” When they were chatting, he could still sense Fang Xianxing’s lack of seriousness.

People who, upon hearing that they studied and worked in archaeology, immediately dug up some wild historical tales and legends to ask them about were usually just making small talk or teasing them. The next day, when they went out to chat and gossip, they’d still bring up those wild tales, completely forgetting the proper explanations.

Xie Zhi had seen this too many times. Other colleagues might always respond with enthusiasm, but he would deftly sidestep it.

Until now, playing the lute to a cow was something Xie Zhi had only done once—with Fang Xianxing.

This time, it was Fang Xianxing’s turn to fall silent. After a long while, she replied slowly, “Xie Zhi, being clever isn’t meant to be used like this, you know?” Even if he saw through her, did he have to point it out so bluntly? It made her look like some desperate fool trying to amuse him, which felt utterly pathetic.

Fang Xianxing was so annoyed.

Xie Zhi held his phone, reading the message Fang Xianxing had taken forever to send. It was as if he could see her secretly gritting her teeth. A slight curve appeared at the corners of his eyes, and a smile spread across his face.

“Little Xie’s got a girlfriend?” Ke Jie, who was driving, caught a glimpse of Xie Zhi out of the corner of her eye. Noticing how his aura suddenly softened and a smile lit up his face, she couldn’t help but tease, “Looks like you really like your girlfriend.” Did he?

Xie Zhi wiped the smile off his face, resuming his usual stern expression. He turned his head slightly toward the window, shoulders hunching a bit, eyes dropping to his phone.

Ke Jie was his senior. It’d be too rude not to respond, so he mumbled a faint “Mm” in reply.

Ke Jie chuckled at his reaction. Xie Zhi was usually so reserved—where else could you find a young man these days who got shy about love?

Still, shyness was kind of nice. It reminded her of her own husband from ten years ago—a tender, adorable young man who’d blush and lower his head whenever he saw her. Now? His voice was louder than hers, brandishing a feather duster to scold the kids like some fierce yaksha, forcing their little ones—who usually didn’t cling to her—into her arms for refuge.

But honestly, Ke Jie couldn’t quite picture Xie Zhi, with his stunning, aloof, high-and-mighty flower looks, turning into a yaksha.

“Once things settle down, bring her to the unit for a visit,” Ke Jie said, curious to see her. “Mid-year, the unit’s organizing a trip—you can bring family. Come along then. It’ll also calm down those girls at the institute who’ve got the heart but not the guts to chase you.” Xie Zhi’s ears gradually turned red.

Age really does change people. Even the quiet, serious Ke Jie was starting to meddle in the love lives of the younger generation.

Meanwhile, Fang Xianxing was left speechless by Xie Zhi’s words. After a moment of thought, she let out a little laugh, drawing a sideways glance from Xu Mi, who was organizing today’s schedule nearby.

Fang Xianxing laughed because Xie Zhi, knowing full well she was just playing around, still answered her so earnestly. His seriousness was oddly endearing.

“This time, I’m not teasing you. I really dreamed about the Mi Dynasty palace. I could even see that Emperor’s eyelashes so clearly,” Fang Xianxing replied with a smile.

In her dream, that Emperor’s presence was overwhelming. Her gaze sent shivers down Fang Xianxing’s spine, and the strange things she said stuck with her, making her genuinely curious to figure out what it all meant.

Xie Zhi tilted his head, the tips of his ears still red. His hands, however, typed a proper response: “Yiyang Prince was Yuan Shun Emperor’s only full-blooded brother. Relying on his high status, he refused to bow to a woman as his ruler. He never took a Lady Fuyuan in his life, so where would a wife-master come from? Yuan Shun Emperor passed away long ago—she couldn’t possibly call you ‘my dear subject.’ It’s just a dream.”

Huh?

Fang Xianxing froze.

Then what kind of dream was she having? If it was all her own imagination, wasn’t her creativity a bit too impressive?

She didn’t just dream that Yiyang Prince had a wife-master—she also dreamed he had children. Yuan Shun Emperor had children too, and even the person Yuan Shun Emperor saw through her had children, complete with names.

“Su Li—has there ever been someone in history with a name that sounds like that?” Fang Xianxing asked.

Su—Li—

Xie Zhi slowly repeated the two syllables. They rolled off the tongue quite nicely, but where had he heard them before?

Xie Zhi frowned, thinking hard for a long time before turning to ask, “Ke Jie, do you remember anyone in history named Su Li?”

Ke Jie tilted her chin slightly, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel a few times before shaking her head. “I don’t recall. It feels like there might be several people with similar names. Which exact characters are they?”

Fang Xianxing didn’t know.

“Fine, looks like it’s just my dream then,” Fang Xianxing said, a bit dejected. She idly scratched at the files on her desk. “How long are you all staying at Nige Film City?”

“At least two weeks,” Xie Zhi replied, watching the scenery outside fly by—tall buildings turning into low houses, highways, and open fields. For some reason, his heart felt emptier too.

After a long wait with no reply from Fang Xianxing, Xie Zhi exited the chat. As he pressed the power button, he quickly glanced at his lock screen wallpaper before the light dimmed. Slowly, he slipped the phone into his jacket pocket.

Ke Jie, who’d been keeping an eye on him, couldn’t help but flash a motherly smile. “Nige Film City’s about a hundred fifty kilometers from the city. Without traffic, it’s a two-hour drive; with traffic, maybe half a day. It’s not some Weaver Girl and Cowherd distance.”

“Oh,” Xie Zhi muttered, his ears turning red again from the teasing. He turned his head, pretending to look at the scenery.

*

“Are things busy this week?” Fang Xianxing set her phone down and looked at Xu Mi, who’d finished organizing the schedule and was standing by to report.

Xu Mi handed over the tablet. “Not too bad. There aren’t many tasks. The only thing that needs close attention is the bidding related to the government and the Archaeological Research Institute. Deputy Manager Lin from the project department has experience with government collaborations, so she’s handling it now.”

Fang Xianxing nodded, sliding her finger across the tablet to skim the schedule. She flipped to the company’s organizational chart, tapped on Deputy Manager Lin’s profile, and studied it for a while.

After handing the tablet back to Xu Mi, Fang Xianxing raised an eyebrow. “Clear out this Thursday and Friday for me. I’ve got personal matters. I’ll send you the specifics later.”

“Got it,” Xu Mi said, opening the tablet to add the note.

*

Xie Zhi only realized Tang Xuan was there after arriving at the crew. His leg injury had healed, and he was wearing a headpiece and wide-sleeved ancient costume, waiting on set. Hearing the commotion from Ke Jie and Xie Zhi’s arrival, he turned his head, locking eyes with Xie Zhi perfectly.

Both of them froze for a moment.

An assistant director came over to greet them, stepping right between the two. Xie Zhi looked away, following Ke Jie as the assistant director led them to the temporary office for the art and props teams.

The head art designer in charge of set design was a woman in her forties named Cui, who liked being called Cui Jiejie. Dressed in bright yet professional work attire, she greeted Ke Jie and Xie Zhi with smooth flattery, praising them to the skies and joking that if these two experts hadn’t come, she’d have scratched her head raw.

Her words lightened the mood considerably.

Before officially starting work, Cui Jiejie, ever the people-pleaser, arranged for them to settle into the hotel the crew had booked. After unpacking, they’d have a good meal to welcome them.

Since the hotel housed some celebrities, the behind-the-scenes staff naturally didn’t get special treatment like the stars. They had to squeeze in with the art and props teams.

Xie Zhi’s double room was shared with a kid named Xiao Qin, who looked about eighteen or nineteen. Simple-minded and shy, Xiao Qin had seen how respectfully Cui Jiejie treated Xie Zhi and how Xie Zhi himself looked like a celebrity. He lingered nervously in the corner.

Once everyone else left and Xie Zhi started unpacking, Xiao Qin didn’t dare make a sound.

Xie Zhi sensed his tension but didn’t say anything to comfort him, focusing on organizing his things. After all, in a couple of days, the kid would get used to it. If he tried to ease things now, he’d lose any chance of peace for the next few days.

Xie Zhi had it all planned out, but he overlooked how some people, even when scared, would still curiously inch closer. For three or four days straight, Xiao Qin became Xie Zhi’s shadow, following him everywhere.

Xiao Qin was quick on his feet and familiar with the props team, so Cui Jiejie simply assigned him to assist Xie Zhi.

“Xie Ge, you’ve studied drawing?” Xiao Qin leaned over the table, watching Xie Zhi sketch. Seeing the eaves and tiles take shape under Xie Zhi’s hand in just a few strokes, his eyes widened in awe.

“Just simple sketches for diagrams,” Xie Zhi said, standing by the table, eyes lowered as he drew the architectural style and rough patterns for the Longevity Festival’s main scene.

On the other side, Ke Jie was with the props team, inspecting purchased lanterns, utensils, and cotton fabrics. Hearing the conversation, she came over to join in. “Little Xie’s skills go beyond diagrams. His drawings and calligraphy are top-notch. How else could he have joined the institute at such a young age?”

Xiao Qin’s eyes sparkled with admiration.

A passing assistant director overheard this and lit up. “Then could Teacher Xie help us out as a hand double? I’ve been searching for a stand-in until my head’s nearly bald! Please, please!”

Xie Zhi paused his pen, standing up straight with a bewildered look. “Me? A stand-in?”

Ke Jie froze too, recalling how Shi Ling had warned her a hundred times before they left to keep anyone from poaching Xie Zhi for acting. She hadn’t expected it to actually happen.

“It’s not really a stand-in role,” the assistant director explained. “There’s a scene where Zhou Lin, playing Gu Tingtong, writes a letter by hand. We were going to use a prop and blur the shot, but this scene ties into how Gu Tingtong enchants the Emperor, rising from a slave to Male Empress step by step. Director Su wants the details to be stunning, to let the audience feel Gu Tingtong’s allure. He’s been hounding me to find a hand double with calligraphy skills.”

The requirements were steep—mastery of calligraphy, plus hands that looked good enough to match Zhou Lin, a top male star’s face and figure.

It was absurdly hard.

The assistant director glanced at Xie Zhi’s slender, jade-like fingers, growing more convinced that Xie Zhi was his savior.

With that, he wouldn’t let up, whining and pleading relentlessly. Ke Jie, unable to stand it, joined in persuading Xie Zhi to help out.

And so, Xie Zhi somehow ended up standing in a half-open study set, wearing no makeup, just a layer of ancient costume over his clothes, surrounded by cameras.

Director Su sat to the side, grinning at him. “Teacher Xie, relax. Just write on the paper—we’re only filming your hands!”

Song Longsha, the actress playing the second female lead, stood by the director with a smile, holding her phone and filming him along with the other cameras.

He turned his face away, avoiding her.

Song Longsha had been hovering around him lately. Once, she’d awkwardly mentioned they were classmates long ago, and she kept having her assistant send him things.

Xie Zhi didn’t remember her. Even if he did, he had no interest in dealing with this odd person.

He’d even told Fang Xianxing about it. She didn’t react much, even telling him to accept the gifts.

Xie Zhi didn’t like that response. Feeling stifled, he’d ignored Fang Xianxing for two days now.

Besides Song Longsha, Tang Xuan was there too, standing far back. His lips were pressed pale, his hands clenched tight in his sleeves.

Xie Zhi didn’t notice him. Taking a deep breath, he followed Director Su’s instructions, picked up the brush, and began writing.

Elegant, intricate traditional characters flowed from his brush stroke by stroke, accompanied by the hum of the set’s equipment. Everyone watching was utterly captivated.

Fang Xianxing, who’d come to visit, was led to the set. Spotting Xie Zhi in ancient costume, standing amidst the cameras writing, she blinked in surprise.

Wasn’t Xie Zhi here as an expert? How’d he end up acting?