APCF – Chapter 108 Dreaming

As Qi Xingchen expected, after their New Year’s meeting, the Grey Trajectory production team moved deep into the mountains to film scenes from Liang Xiaolong’s youth and the detective sequences. The estimated shooting duration was about a month, though the unpredictable mountain weather might cause a delay of 10 to 20 days.

In order to stay true to the story, Director Zhou didn’t consider comfort when choosing the filming location. The site was completely untouched by modern conveniences—cars couldn’t even drive in. Props were transported by vehicle to the foot of the mountain, and from there, they had to be carried up manually.

The rugged mountain paths were even worse than expected. To avoid wasting time on the trek up and down, the crew decided to set up camp in a small village halfway up the mountain. The rented courtyard they stayed in often had damp, musty bedding. Mice, snakes, and centipedes were frequent visitors, and the food quality naturally dropped several levels. Already thin, Qi Xingchen lost even more weight.

Of course, harsh conditions weren’t the real challenge for Qi Xingchen—the most frustrating part was the lack of signal and internet. There were no wireless networks in the mountains, and the nearest signal tower was at the base of the mountain. Most of the time, his phone displayed “No Service,” making it difficult to send even a single message all day.

Let alone video calling Bo Ye like before.

Exchanging just a few WeChat messages with him became the only bright spot in these tough days.

Tonight, they were filming a major chase scene in the deep mountains during a rainstorm. At 10 PM, the camera crew put on raincoats and boots as their lights flickered in the pitch-black forest.

Southern mountains in winter were cold—once it rained, they became freezing. Large raindrops poured down, carried by the wind into a slanted curtain of water that drenched them instantly. Qi Xingchen was soaked to the bone within seconds.

To make matters worse, in earlier scenes, the female lead, Feng Nuo, had infiltrated Liangjia Village as Liang Xiaolong’s friend to investigate, only to be discovered by the wary villagers. The village chief gathered all the young and strong men to catch Feng Nuo. With nowhere else to run, Liang Xiaolong took her into the mountains, fleeing desperately. Their clothes had been torn to shreds by branches along the way.

Now, both Qi Xingchen and Yan Ruonan’s costumes had been deliberately slashed all over by the stylists. They were practically wearing rags, offering zero warmth.

Extras took their positions, and filming officially began.

At Director Zhou’s command, Qi Xingchen and Yan Ruonan threw away their umbrellas and immediately stepped into their roles as Liang Xiaolong and Feng Nuo.

Dark mountains, fierce wind, torrential rain, pitch-black night…

Under a large tree, Feng Nuo propped her hands on her knees, gasping for breath.

After running for so long, Liang Xiaolong was also exhausted. He wiped his face and asked the woman, who was wearing nothing but a tank top: “Are you okay?”

“What did you say?” The wind was too loud—Feng Nuo didn’t hear him.

“I said,” Liang Xiaolong shouted, “Feng Nuo, are you okay?!”

Feng Nuo rolled her eyes. “How many times have I told you? Don’t call me by my full name. Call me ‘Sis’!”

But Liang Xiaolong refused to listen and kept calling her by name.

Annoyed yet amused, Feng Nuo chuckled. The warmth in her smile softened her tough demeanor. Liang Xiaolong stared at her for a few seconds, then took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

“You little brat,” Feng Nuo tossed the jacket back at him. “I graduated from a military academy—my physical endurance is way better than yours. You wear it.”

“No,” Liang Xiaolong said firmly. “I’m a man. I have to take care of you.”

He had just celebrated his nineteenth birthday, standing on the edge of boyhood and adulthood. The way he said “I’m a man” sounded almost comical.

Feng Nuo laughed even harder.

Liang Xiaolong didn’t understand what was so funny, but seeing her smile made him smile too. Just as they were laughing together—

“Over there! Someone’s there!”

“Where?”

“Under the biggest tree on the east side!”

“I see them! Everyone, follow me!”

The shouting, accompanied by the barking of large dogs, tore through the night.

Feng Nuo frowned. “Xiaolong, you go first. I’ll distract them.”

“No! They’ll catch you.”

Captured… Then What?

“Even if they catch me, what can they do? This is a society ruled by law—what, are they going to kill me?”

“No.” Liang Xiaolong shook his head. “They’ll lock you up… and make you have children.”

Liang Xiaolong’s intelligence lagged slightly behind his peers, though he had improved significantly under expert treatment. Still, he spoke with blunt honesty. Feng Nuo’s heart sank at his words.

In certain remote, impoverished mountain areas where the population was sparse, some people didn’t just buy children—they bought women. Those who obeyed were tolerated, but if they resisted, they were beaten until they submitted. If they still refused, they were locked inside a house, only allowed out to use the bathroom. Their days were reduced to eating and forced sexual encounters.

Among them were pampered daughters of wealthy families, highly educated Ph.D. and master’s students, and ordinary girls. But in the end, they all met the same fate—reduced from living, breathing individuals to mere reproductive tools.

Feng Nuo had chosen to become a criminal investigator after witnessing firsthand the women who had been rescued. Their eyes were dull, devoid of any passion for life.

“Feng Nuo.” Liang Xiaolong grabbed her wrist. “Let’s go.”

“Alright.” Feng Nuo straightened up.

Without catching their breath, they resumed running. The rain-soaked mountain paths were slick with mud, covered in dead leaves and stones. Their visibility was obstructed by the downpour, causing them to stumble repeatedly—falling, getting up, falling again.

In the end, they couldn’t outrun the villagers of Liangjia Village, who knew the mountain paths like the back of their hands. A large, angry crowd soon encircled them.

Sensing the danger, Liang Xiaolong instinctively stepped in front of Feng Nuo.

Seeing her son’s pitiful state, Mother Liang’s heart ached. She quickly called out, “Son, come to Mom! I brought you a raincoat.”

Liang Xiaolong acted as though he didn’t hear her, his sharp gaze scanning the crowd.

“Xiaolong,” the village chief urged, “come here now. You don’t need to protect that woman.”

But Liang Xiaolong remained unmoved.

The villagers, having chased them for half the night, were already fuming. A wave of angry murmurs spread through the crowd. The village chief’s temper flared as well. “Xiaolong, do you even know who this woman is? She’s here to deceive us, to ensure Liangjia Village has no future!”

“No,” Liang Xiaolong shook his head. “She’s a good person.”

“You’re just a fool. How would you know good from bad?”

“I know.” Liang Xiaolong said firmly. “Human traffickers are bad. And the people who buy from traffickers are bad too.”

His words stunned the crowd into brief silence. Their expressions twisted into something dark and ugly.

Father Liang finally lost his temper. Raising the wooden staff in his hand, he pointed toward his son. “Xiaolong! Stop talking nonsense and get over here! Kneel before me!”

“I’m not talking nonsense.” Liang Xiaolong’s voice trembled. “I know now—I was bought.”

“So what if you were bought?” Father Liang bellowed, his fury erupting. “Think carefully! Have your mother and I ever treated you poorly?”

“It doesn’t matter how well you treated me—it doesn’t erase the fact that you committed a crime!”

On one side stood the parents who had raised him with love. On the other, a detective who had spent decades tirelessly fighting against human trafficking.

Emotion versus law.

The torment in Liang Xiaolong’s heart was something only he could understand.

His eyes instantly turned red, his lips quivering. “I know you love me like your own son. But I am a person, not a commodity. Every single person you bought is also a person—someone torn away from their parents’ arms.”

Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the rain as they slipped into his mouth. He roared, “Have you ever considered their parents’ pain? If your child was kidnapped, sold off to some unknown place, and you didn’t even know whether they were dead or alive—wouldn’t you be devastated?”

“And what about the children born from these forced unions? When they learn what happened to their mothers, how do you expect them to feel? How will you educate them? Will you teach them that if they can’t find a wife in the future, they can just buy one like their fathers did?!”

By the end, his emotions were on the verge of collapse. His voice cracked into a desperate scream. “Stop it! You’ve already broken the law and destroyed countless families! Don’t keep making the same mistake!”

Director Zhou, who had been watching the monitor intently, finally let out a breath of relief. He gave a big thumbs-up to the set. “Xiao Qi, that was incredible! Quick, get something warm to drink!”

With the critical scene successfully completed, Qi Xingchen also relaxed. He and Yan Ruonan ducked under a rain shelter.

During the shoot, he had been so immersed in the role that he hadn’t felt anything. But now, as he regained his senses, he realized his whole body was shaking with rage from the intensity of the scene.

The crew handed them hot water. He quickly poured two cups—one for Yan Ruonan and one for himself.

Yan Ruonan wiped her hair with a towel and said, “I was prepared to reshoot this scene several times. I didn’t expect you to nail it in one go.”

“Of course,” Qi Xingchen joked. “I’m your personally approved rising star—I can’t embarrass you.”

“You and your nonsense…” Yan Ruonan chuckled. “Honestly, before filming, I was worried you wouldn’t remember all the lines or get the emotional depth right.”

The scene was packed with long, complex monologues, making it difficult to maintain the right rhythm. On top of that, portraying Liang Xiaolong’s inner conflict amidst all that dialogue was an even greater challenge.

Yet Qi Xingchen pulled it off flawlessly in a single take.

His progress was astonishing. Almost too fast.

For someone without formal acting training to reach this level—it was a testament to his immense talent, as well as the sheer effort he had put in.

The more Yan Ruonan thought about it, the more impressed she became. She pulled out her phone and secretly snapped a picture of Qi Xingchen sipping his hot water, then posted on Weibo:

@Yan Ruonan: The new generation is catching up fast. Watch out, old-timers! 📷

Unfortunately, even though he took medicine immediately after the shoot, Qi Xingchen still couldn’t escape the clutches of a fever.

By early morning, the burning itch in his throat woke him up. He stumbled over to the well to fetch some water. An Ran stopped him, checked his temperature—it was nearly 39°C.

Fearing that their lead actor might actually burn out his brain, Director Zhou quickly arranged for him to be taken to a town hospital.

In reality, Qi Xingchen had always had a strong constitution. If it weren’t for his character’s naturally weaker body, combined with his intense immersion in the role and lack of rest, he wouldn’t have gotten sick so easily.

Frustrated that he was delaying the production schedule, Qi Xingchen lay in the hospital’s infusion room, drifting in and out of sleep for an entire day.

By nighttime, his fever had finally dropped. He sat up to eat something—and then made a huge discovery.

The town had signal.

Not just signal—4G!

“Finally!”

With a sudden burst of energy, he sprang out of bed, wrapped himself in a military coat, and dashed outside.

“Xingxing,” An Ran quickly called out to him. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to make a phone call!”

An Ran sighed helplessly. “You’re still running a fever, don’t catch a cold again.”

Qi Xingchen tossed back a “Don’t worry” and walked around the hospital, finally finding an empty corner.

Dialing Bo Ye’s number, his heart pounded—he was actually a little nervous.

“Hello?” After four busy tones, Bo Ye picked up. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes, the signal here is pretty good.”

“I saw that it’s been raining over there lately. Why is the signal even better?”

“…I don’t know,” Qi Xingchen mumbled. “Maybe the signal tower got struck by lightning.”

Bo Ye:

That was the most refreshingly absurd explanation he’d ever heard.

As they spoke, Qi Xingchen leaned against a brick wall, absentmindedly picking at the cement in the cracks. “Uh, so…”

“Hm?”

“Brother Ye, I miss you.”

Bo Ye chuckled. “I miss you too.”

It was their first phone call in over ten days. Qi Xingchen wanted to spill out everything at once. His fingers picked at the bricks even faster. “I can’t even describe it. It’s not just regular missing you—it’s especially missing you.”

Amused by his cuteness, Bo Ye played along. “How much is ‘especially’ missing?”

“I even dreamed about you the other night.”

“What a coincidence,” Bo Ye said. “I dreamed about you too.”

Qi Xingchen was intrigued. “What was I like in your dream?”

“You were wearing my sweater, with bare legs, sleeping on the bed,” Bo Ye teased.

Wearing his sweater, with bare legs… that wasn’t just a dream—that was real!

Qi Xingchen’s fingers paused, and his lips curled up involuntarily.

Just like Bo Ye, he often thought about that day.

That day, Bo Ye had said he liked the in-ear monitors. Even though Qi Xingchen had to hide the fact that he was the one who sent them, knowing Bo Ye was happy was enough for him.

And that day, Bo Ye had also touched him—well, with his leg, but it still counted as physical contact. It meant Bo Ye was willing to be close to him.

Wait!

Qi Xingchen suddenly realized—if Bo Ye was dreaming about that scene, wasn’t his dream a little… not so innocent?

Could it be… Brother Ye had some needs again?

Qi Xingchen glanced around, making sure no one was nearby, then lowered his voice guiltily. “I’m sorry… I couldn’t be there for you.”

“It’s okay.”

Bo Ye misunderstood, thinking his little fan was apologizing for not being able to accompany him. He comforted him, “You need to finish your project with quality and dedication. Just focus on your work—I can handle things myself.”

Handle things himself… Like that thing Bo Ye did for him before?

Qi Xingchen felt even guiltier. “How about this—next time you dream about me, call me. I’ll try to… help you.”

Bo Ye was puzzled. “Help me how?”

What else could it be?!

Qi Xingchen was speechless for a moment, feeling a deep sense of helplessness at how pure his boyfriend was.

But saying it out loud on the street? No way. He hesitated. “Just call me, you’ll see.”

“…Alright.” Bo Ye sighed.

They chatted a bit more about acting and industry news. Before hanging up, Bo Ye asked, “Did you receive an invitation to next month’s Golden Falcon Festival?”

The Golden Falcon TV Art Festival was the only nationally recognized television awards ceremony in China. Earlier this year, Qi Xingchen had acted in Heart of the Ocean, which was scheduled for a winter holiday daytime slot next week—making it eligible for the Golden Falcon Awards.

“The Heart of the Ocean team got one,” Qi Xingchen replied. “I don’t know if I got one personally. An Ran hasn’t mentioned it, so I guess I don’t.”

Bo Ye hummed in response. “I was invited to perform. If you’re not going, I won’t go either.”

Being the deciding factor in Bo Ye’s choice made Qi Xingchen beyond happy.

Hanging up the call, he hummed a tune as he got into the car Director Zhou sent to pick him up.

Before they entered the mountains—while he still had a signal—he curled up in the back seat and secretly Googled: “How to make your partner feel good with just words and voice?”

Two seconds later, a flood of explicit search results filled his screen.

His eyes narrowed into slits as he cautiously tapped into one.

[Drunk husband, father-in-law barges into my room—shocking!]

[Unbelievable! Brother-in-law did this to his little sister-in-law… 28 days to restore your manhood!]

[Midnight Confessions: My Nights with My Teacher]

Qi Xingchen: ???

Another piece of strange knowledge acquired.

Overloaded with too much knowledge, he fell asleep early that night.

Ironically, Bo Ye did dream about him that night.

So, the next morning, Bo Ye tried calling his little fan.

And just like before, he got the “out of service area” message.

He then tried sending a WeChat message: [I dreamed about you last night.]

Five minutes later—

[Xingxing]: “Gege, be gentle. ❤️”