After Our Divorce, I Still Wore Your Jacket

Chapter 40

Fang Shaoyi’s words were the equivalent of a knife harshly stabbing into Yuan Ye’s heart. For a long time, Yuan Ye couldn’t say anything. He was in shock. Fang Shaoyi very rarely spoke to him like this. In the past few years, they hadn’t really talked about their feelings at all. Since young, Fang Shaoyi had always seemed like someone in control. Today, he was saying that sometimes he felt panicked too. This caused Yuan Ye to be very surprised.

This was a very strange feeling. Yuan Ye knew that Fang Shaoyi actually wanted him to be able to distinguish the person from the environment. Yuan Ye truly had this problem: when he became disappointed in an environment, he would become disappointed about everything regarding the environment, including anybody in it.

Eventually, Yuan Ye scratched his finger against Fang Shaoyi’s nose. He softly said, “Got it.”

In certain regards, Fang Shaoyi was similar to a guide. He always guided Yuan Ye into learning how to feel and sense.

After this evening, the two of them started being silly again. Ji Xiaotao always felt like they were sickly sweet, yet they clearly weren’t even doing anything special. He looked between the two of them, but didn’t notice anything suspicious. Instead, he got glared at.

Ji Xiaotao retracted his gaze and peacefully looked at his phone. On the screen, he had just asked Yang Siran how he felt about returning to the company; he had also asked what the company’s next arrangement for the other was. Yang Siran replied that he was still waiting and that there temporarily weren’t any new plans.

Ji Xiaotao asked: Have they assigned you an assistant yet?

Yang Siran: Not yet.

Ji Xiaotao asked again: Who’s in charge of you? Who’s your manager?

Yang Siran: I don’t have one yet either.

Ji Xiaotao: Ah, then keep waiting for now……

After finishing this conversation, Yang Siran pocketed his phone once more. He was wearing a simple, casual outfit that made him look like the boy next door. He seemed clean and neat. There weren’t that many people who recognized him at the company yet. Yang Siran obediently waited in the office, not even daring to observe his surroundings. When he wasn’t looking at his phone, he flipped through a magazine on the tea table.

He had already been sitting in this office for over two hours, waiting.

Eventually, Geng Jinwei finally returned. There were also two people behind him. Geng Jinwei noticed Yang Siran and calmly asked, “You’re back?”

Yang Siran nodded and made a noise of acknowledgment. He continued waiting on the couch.

He waited until Geng Jinwei had finished speaking with those people before standing up and walking over next to the desk. Geng Jinwei lit a cigarette and asked him, “Is acting tiring?”

“No,” Yang Siran answered. “Everyone took quite good care of me.”

“I’ll arrange for another movie for you next month. Play some minor characters for practice first,” Geng Jinwei said.

Yang Siran didn’t object. He nodded and said, “Okay.”

They discussed everything necessary for work, which was a lot. After, Geng Jinwei stated, “You can leave.”

Only now did Yang Siran seem a bit uneasy. He first glanced at Geng Jinwei, but Geng Jinwei had already lowered his head to look over something else. He wasn’t paying attention at all. Yang Siran walked around the office desk and quietly bent down. Half-squatting, he rested his face against Geng Jinwei’s leg, his skin brushing against the pant leg. He lowered his voice a lot, making even his breathing softer. Cautiously, he said, “……I missed you so much.”

Geng Jinwei lowered his head to look at him. Yang Siran lifted his face to make eye contact. His eyes were filled with sincere affection.

Geng Jinwei didn’t say anything. He only looked at him; his expression was unreadable. Yang Siran blinked. His handsome face was leaned back as he carefully asked, “Can I go to your house tonight?”

Yuan Ye left the film set for a few days in the beginning of April. Their little circle of writers had gatherings too. Feng Leizi was the screenplay coordinator for a certain famous director. When they reached a certain stage of completion for their script, they would gather a bunch of people to look over the script and criticize it or give suggestions. This way, they could collect the opinions of over a dozen writers, listening to everyone’s thoughts, and see if any creative sparks would fly.

Yuan Ye definitely needed to be present. He had a very unique view of things and was also sharp-tongued. Additionally, he dared to speak his mind. Consequently, after repeated coaxing, Feng Leizi finally got him to attend. Yuan Ye asked for a few days off from the film set and departed, all to look over someone else’s script. Even Jiang Linchuan scolded him after hearing that he was leaving to help someone else with their screenplay. He hadn’t even finished dealing with his own mess, but was now taking over an outsider’s mess.

However, Yuan Ye was already disgusted from looking over their script during this period of time. Right now, the script he had was trash. They could refine it day after day, but wouldn’t be able to get anything good out of it. He couldn’t convince the director to edit the plot, but also couldn’t convince himself that there wasn’t anything wrong with the added scenes. Thus, he was very agitated each day.

Filming was at its end. In about another month, Fang Shaoyi would probably be able to wrap up filming.

Yuan Ye departed the set to see everyone else. When they saw him, they naturally started teasing him. At the time, he had very confidently stated on Weibo that he was going to pursue Fang Shaoyi, behavior that was quite coquettish. These people had been waiting since long ago to tease him. Now that they were finally seeing him in person, the jokes wouldn’t stop.

Yuan Ye was completely unbothered. Cigarette dangling from his mouth, he said, “Don’t be annoying.”

“Embarrassed?” Someone asked him. “Uncle Ye knows how to feel embarrassed?”

Yuan Ye was too lazy to bother with them. The director hadn’t arrived yet, so he walked out onto the balcony to smoke.

Ji Xiaotao sent him a WeChat message. It was an attachment, a short video of Fang Shaoyi acting.

Yuan Ye: Don’t annoy me as soon as I leave set.

Ji Xiaotao: I’m gifting care, you know?

Yuan Ye: I’m not suffering that much. Give it a rest.

Screenplay editing was a very tormenting process. It could last up to several days; during this time, the script would repeatedly get pulled apart and rewritten, continuously. After so much editing back and forth, the final product could very well be completely different from the initial draft. Writers always seemed introverted to others, but screenplay editing was basically a war. By the end, each person’s throat was hoarse.

During times like these, Yuan Ye was both sharp and creative. He was always the first to disagree with others’ perspectives, but these writers also couldn’t help but admit that his arguments were logical. This was extremely annoying. Neither of them admired each other, but they also had to admit that he was right. Of course, Yuan Ye’s ideas got shot down too. What emerged at the end was simply up to fate. Perhaps someone would come up with a sudden epiphany and produce an extremely special idea that could be accepted by almost everyone else.

His brain was constantly working. This was very tiring, but this was Yuan Ye’s way of life. This was the process he was most familiar with and was a lot more satisfying than sneakily discussing the screenplay on set. He didn’t need to worry that he was insulting a certain actor, nor worry that the prop team wouldn’t be able to keep up with an extreme edit. The initial stages of a screenplay were the purest parts of a movie. There was only one goal for everyone, and that was to turn the script from a rock into gold. Each eventual step in the process would only deplete this purity.

Yuan Ye escaped for a screenplay discussion. When he returned, his entire being seemed to be in a better mood, like he had left to charge up and recover. As soon as he got back to set, he sought out Fang Shaoyi. Coincidentally, Fang Shaoyi had just finished the day’s work. He had changed out of his costume, removed his makeup, and was about to head back. Yuan Ye shouted, “Yi ge.”

Fang Shaoyi looked back at him. There was the hint of a smile on his face. “You’re back?”

“Ah,” Yuan Ye nodded. “Finished charging.”

“How was your discussion?” Fang Shaoyi asked.

Yuan Ye shrugged. “Same old. Couldn’t make a decision. There’ll probably be a second, third, or even fifth draft. I might have to go back at that time too. Feng Leizi is the best at these things. Everyone else comes up with the ideas while he, the screenplay coordinator, waits to put them together. The most cunning of them all.”

Fang Shaoyi chuckled. He wanted to walk back with Yuan Ye. However, halfway back, he got called away by someone to discuss business. Yuan Ye squatted on a bench by the side of the road. Originally, he wanted to smoke a cigarette, but upon remembering that he was already back on set, he silently put the cigarette away again.

When Fang Shaoyi returned, Yuan Ye was in the middle of a conversation with a little girl. The little girl looked four or five at most. Yuan Ye caressed her little pigtails. Fang Shaoyi couldn’t hear what they were talking about.

On the way back, Fang Shaoyi told Yuan Ye, “Tonight, you can go watch the rough edit of the movie that the director made.”

Yuan Ye asked, “Edited in these past few days?”

“Un, he didn’t edit much,” Fang Shaoyi glanced at him and said.

Yuan Ye didn’t think too much about it, not even considering it a big deal. He wouldn’t even add his own name onto the credits when the dumb film was done. He felt that it would be embarrassing to have his name at the bottom of the list of screenwriters. Yuan Ye had done his best, but there was nothing to be done. Just earlier, he had sincerely brainstormed a bunch of ideas for a new script; abruptly turning back to see how carelessly they had added a plotline to this one only made this movie seem even more trashy in comparison.