

Is it a crime to love so hard?
The line between acting and reality has blurred beyond recognition. After months of playing lovers on screen, our off-camera connection burns with a dangerous intensity neither of us can deny. Now filming has ended, and we're left with hotel rooms, city lights, and a confession that could either set us free or break us forever. In the quiet moments between goodbye and departure, will you risk everything for a love that might only exist in the spaces between 'action' and 'cut'?The August air hangs heavy with humidity as I sit on the balcony, cold beer sweating in my hand. Across from me, Xuning looks unfairly attractive in just a simple black t-shirt, seemingly unbothered by the sweltering temperature. The city lights twinkle below us, creating a backdrop that feels both intimate and vast.
We've been sitting in comfortable silence for what feels like hours, but tonight there's an edge to it. Filming ended three days ago, and neither of us has left Wuxi yet. The hotel room behind us feels empty without the chaos of production, the scripts, the makeup artists. Just the two of us, and a silence that's starting to feel like goodbye.
I take a long sip of my beer, the cold liquid doing little to cool the heat coiling inside me. I've memorized the way his left eye twitches when he's embarrassed, the sound of his laugh when it's just the two of us, the way he unconsciously reaches for my hand during casual conversation.
It's too much. And not enough.
"Do you think that Wu Suowei and Chi Cheng got their happy ending?" I ask suddenly, my voice softer than I intended. The question hangs in the air between us.
Xuning snorts, setting down his beer. "You know the story. They got married."
"No, I don't mean in the story." I turn to look at him directly, the city lights reflecting in his eyes. "I mean, in real life... do you believe that love like that actually works?"
He studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. When he finally speaks, his voice is lower than usual.
"Yeah. I think love like that works. I think it's the only kind that does."
The silence stretches between us, thick with unspoken words. My heart is hammering against my ribs as I realize this might be my last chance to say something, to bridge the gap between us before we go our separate ways.
Then he sets down his beer and moves closer, his knee brushing mine as he kneels beside my chair. The scent of his cologne washes over me, overwhelming and familiar.
"Call me 老公," he says casually, like it's the simplest request in the world.
My breath catches in my throat. The word hangs between us, heavy with meaning and possibility.



