Chapter 11: Do You Like Dolphins? |
– Male actors need a kind of vulnerability that can be shattered.
– Jiang Qi has it.
Although he portrayed a mentally disturbed teenager in “Gazing at the Sky” – melancholic, cruel – he still possessed a quality that is rare among the young and noble in the entertainment circle of this peaceful era: vulnerability.
This feeling makes people want to delve into what he has experienced.
Shen Lei is curious, and Wang Zhaoqiu is as well. Even the netizens who criticize him but can’t help but pay attention to him have this mentality. Even Meng Chunyu is curious about Jiang Qi’s story and frequently asks Zhi Qi about it.
Zhi Qi only mentioned that she knew Jiang Qi because they were classmates before. She clarified that she knew he didn’t end up in prison due to the so-called ‘exposures’ online, and she won’t say anything more about it.
The girl didn’t want to treat the past experiences with Jiang Qi as casual conversation topics with others. Even though there wasn’t much to it, it was a soft corner of white moonlight (first love) in her heart.
Zhi Qi contacted Jiang Ying once about the fan meeting tickets. The woman’s voice on the phone sounded hesitant and somewhat troubled.
“Sister Yu.” Zhi Qi was not a confused girl. Seeing the situation, she blinked and gently laughed, diffusing the other’s embarrassment, “If it’s troublesome, I’ll grab them myself.”
Unexplainably, Zhi Qi suddenly remembered Jiang Ying mentioning her brother’s unsuccessful attempt to sign a contract with Jiang Qi last time. Jiang Qi’s temper… Maybe Jiang Ying’s brother was angry about that incident, and that’s why he wouldn’t help a ‘Jiang Qi fan’ like herself? Thinking this way, she couldn’t help but smile.
The girl’s thoughts were sharp and flexible; she quickly figured out the situation.
Biting her lip, Zhi Qi, with a delicate dimple appearing at the corner of her lips, spoke gently, “It’s okay, Sister Yu. I’ll figure something out on my own.”
In her imaginary world, anyone who had a ‘conflict’ with Jiang Qi was not someone she wanted to seek help from. Jiang Ying seemed embarrassed and repeatedly promised to ask for help again. Zhi Qi didn’t deny it.
On the day of ticket sales, Zhi Qi stayed up unusually late, enduring heavy eyelids. She and Meng Chunyu stared at the app page without blinking. In the fleeting moment when the ‘ticket sales’ light turned green, they both clicked frantically on the VIP section’s seats—
But still, they couldn’t get any.
Even if both she and Meng Chunyu tried to grab them together, they could only watch as the tickets sold out instantly. How could manual efforts compete with the machines in the hands of scalpers?
Disappointed, Zhi Qi couldn’t even fall asleep. She stared blankly at her phone with a lost expression.
Worried that she might cry, Meng Chunyu hurriedly comforted her, “Um, Zhi Qi, don’t worry. There’s still a way.”
Sniffling, Zhi Qi asked with a touch of grievance, “What way?”
Meng Chunyu, being a ‘veteran’ level fan who had experienced this battle of getting concert tickets before, gave a suitable suggestion, “Uh, search for keywords about this fan meeting on Weibo. Maybe some fans who got the tickets will sell them at a higher price, or someone who can’t go might sell theirs.”
This situation happens at almost every celebrity fan meeting or concert— it all comes down to speed and financial capability.
In the next few days, aside from attending classes and working on papers and experiments during tea breaks, Zhi Qi basically spends most of her time staring at her phone, scrolling endlessly. When she sees fans with available tickets, she brightens up and sends private messages asking about it. However, she almost got scammed by a scalper.
Zhi Qi is a girl with a strong sense of copyright awareness, and she always adheres to her principle of not buying scalped tickets, no matter the circumstances. As more than half a month has passed without her getting the tickets and with the fan meeting approaching, she starts to feel increasingly anxious.
Fortunately, she eventually encounters a genuine fan on Weibo who can’t attend the event and is selling tickets. After confirming, Zhi Qi agrees to pay an extra two hundred, and the two happily go through the process on a resale platform.
The most pleasant surprise is that the fan selling the tickets is from the same city. A girl with the nickname ‘Mei Xian’ enthusiastically suggests on Weibo, “Ah, I’m also near the university campus! How about we meet up to exchange tickets? It saves on postage.”
This girl is quite resourceful, and Zhi Qi can’t help but smile and agree after chatting with Mei Xian Xian.
After ending the conversation with Mei Xian, the girl smiles and, as usual, sends a private message to Jiang Qi on Weibo using a pseudonym —
[I’ve got tickets for the fan meeting.]
[See you on the 18th, little dolphin.]
[DAY.58.]
…
Qiu Mi, who is used to receiving private messages from Zhi Qi, couldn’t help but have a puzzled ‘question mark’ in his mind when he saw this message. Since when did their Brother Qi have such a cute nickname? Little Dolphin? These fans really have some creativity.
But considering the fan meeting venue isn’t large, with just over two thousand tickets, this girl has some skills to get them. Her words are so gentle; Qiu Mi wonders if she’s also good-looking.
Unconsciously, Qiu Mi has become quite curious about the fan named ‘Zhi Qi.’
While lost in his thoughts, the phone lying on his knee buzzes. Qiu Mi lowers his head and sees that it’s the phone Jiang Qi left with him, displaying an unfamiliar number on the screen.
Jiang Qi usually leaves his phone with Qiu Mi when he goes to take photos. Since there aren’t many personal numbers, the calls usually come from people like Shen Lei. Qiu Mi, who is used to answering such calls, glances at Jiang Qi, who is engrossed in shooting nearby, and answers without much thought, “Hello?”
Surprisingly, there’s no sound from the other end of the line.
Qiu Mi waits in confusion for a while before hearing a soft, delicate voice, deliberately filled with tenderness, “Is, is this Jiang Qi?”
Qiu Mi is stunned.
The reason isn’t that it’s a female calling, but rather the voice… it has a strong Wenzhounese accent, with a distinctive and memorable quality. Isn’t this voice from the recently popular actress, Yue Yuan?
Qiu Mi originally belonged to Shen Lei’s team, and despite his young age, he’s quite experienced in the entertainment industry. Even though he’s currently assigned to take care of Jiang Qi’s daily life, he is quite professional in the role of an ‘assistant.’
At this moment, he quickly recognizes Yue Yuan’s voice, hesitates, and asks, “Is… Miss Yue?”
How could Yue Yuan know Jiang Qi’s private phone number and even call him? Could it be his imagination?
“Yes, it’s me.” On the other side, Yue Yuan has already confirmed. Her gentle laughter seems to carry a hint of embarrassment, “May I ask if Jiang Qi is available?”
“Uh, well, are you looking for Brother Qi?” Qiu Mi’s tongue is tied, feeling like he just asked a pointless question. Yue Yuan called Jiang Qi’s phone directly; if he’s not available, why would she call him? Stammering, Qiu Mi says, “Miss Yue, um, Brother Qi is currently taking photos.”
Implicitly, he means that it’s not convenient to take a call right now.
Yue Yuan on the other end seems a bit disappointed, sighs softly, and with a gentle lingering tone, she says, “Alright, thank you.”
After finishing talking, he hung up the phone.
Qiu Mi stared blankly at the ‘beep-beep’ sound from his phone for a long time before coming back to his senses. A thousand ‘grass-mud horses’ galloped side by side in his heart, and the liquid in his veins was boiling with a hint of reluctance.
Damn, damn, Yue Yuan called Jiang Qi, and even pretended to be shy and hesitant, yet welcoming… If this were leaked, it could definitely trend!
When Jiang Qi came back, Qiu Mi kept staring at him, his eyes seeming to be glued to the boy.
Jiang Qi couldn’t help but glance at him, his tone cold, “What are you looking at?”
“Brother Qi.” Qiu Mi hesitated for a moment and asked, “Do you know Yue Yuan?”
Yue Yuan? Jiang Qi frowned and shook his head, “Don’t know.”
He had long forgotten the girl he accidentally met half a month ago.
“That’s strange.” Qiu Mi was puzzled, “Then why did Yue Yuan call you?”
“Never mind.” Jiang Qi wasn’t interested in knowing who Yue Yuan was, urging Qiu Mi, “Hurry up and remove the makeup.”
Today’s shoot was themed ‘Melancholy Oil Painting,’ and the greasy hair gel on his hair and the heavy makeup on his face were annoying.
…
Qiu Mi was speechless, resignedly getting up to help Jiang Qi remove the makeup. As his assistant, he naturally had to do everything with his three heads and six arms like the sculpture by Chinese artist Zhang Huan.
While removing the makeup, Qiu Mi’s hands traced the finely sculpted contours of Jiang Qi’s face. It was wicked yet not lacking youthful vigor. Up close, with the light reflecting in his light-colored pupils, he appeared indifferent and distant.
Qiu Mi felt that even a man like him sometimes couldn’t resist some wandering thoughts.
It wouldn’t be surprising if anyone fell for such a face, absolutely anyone. The mystery of why Yue Yuan called seemed to suddenly become clear, and Qiu Mi even felt a sense of pride as if he had achieved something.
“Ge,” Qiu Mi, eager to talk, tried to strike up a conversation with Jiang Qi. Thinking of the private messages from Zhi Qi earlier, he couldn’t help but laugh and asked, “Do you like dolphins?”
Upon hearing this abrupt question, Jiang Qi slowly opened his closed eyes, and his translucent pupils narrowed slightly. It was normal if Qiu Mi had asked about cats or dogs, but dolphins, a relatively unfamiliar animal – asking him whether he liked them…
Jiang Qi didn’t know why, but something crossed his mind, and a hint of melancholy passed through his eyes. His voice was faint, “Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” Qiu Mi casually replied. “It’s just that among your fans, there’s someone who actually calls you ‘Little Dolphin.’ Isn’t it strange? Oh, well…”
Qiu Mi was cut off as Jiang Qi suddenly stood up, startling him.
The slender figure of the young man was tense, like a fragile string that could break at any moment. The difference between his light-colored pupils and the usual calmness was significant, as if a bundle of intense heat was concentrated within him, almost scorching.
In Qiu Mi’s surprised expression, Jiang Qi’s voice sounded almost strained, as if filled with anticipation and a muted hoarseness after being filled with expectation:
“Who… who called me that?”
He knew there was only one person who would call him ‘Little Dolphin,’ and that was Zhi Qi.
