Chapter 153 Birthday… Not That It Matters

K City Film and Television City.

The early winter sunlight carried a faint warmth as it poured through the massive studio roof.

Having just finished an emotionally intense crying scene, Lu Er’s eyes were still slightly red.

Wrapped in a thick down jacket, he sat alone on a folding chair in the resting area. The script was in his hands, but his gaze was somewhat vacant.

Not far away, Gu Jinzhou and Yan Huaijin were acting out a scene together.

They were guest-starring, playing business rivals who were both friends and foes in the drama.

Yan Huaijin wore a perfectly tailored dark gray suit, exuding a calm and restrained aura. Even as a guest star, he was extremely professional.

Gu Jinzhou wore a stylish casual suit, his hair dyed light ash brown. His delicate features carried the stage presence and arrogance characteristic of a Korean trainee.

The two of them occasionally exchanged low whispers, Yan Huaijin sometimes gesturing with a hand. Gu Jinzhou listened attentively, nodding now and then.

Lu Er lazily glanced at them before returning his attention to the script, though irritation lingered in his heart.

Although Song Jingmo’s call last night had been sweet, after hanging up, the longing from thousands of miles apart and the pressure from his mother still weighed on him like a heavy stone.

The presence of Yan Huaijin and Gu Jinzhou added an inexplicable, subtle tension on set, making it hard for him to find peace even if he wanted to.

An hour later, Yan Huaijin finished filming his part.

He took off his suit jacket, handed it to his assistant, loosened his tie, and walked directly toward Lu Er’s resting area.

He sat down in the empty chair beside him and spoke gently, “The crew has a day off tomorrow. Do you have any plans?”

“Want to go out for a walk? There are some nice spots in K City.”

Before the words finished, a sarcastic voice interrupted: “The great actor Yan descends from his throne to guest-star? Seems the real intent isn’t in the acting at all.”

“So that explains why he postponed a big production over there. Just to come here and ask someone out for food and shopping?”

Gu Jinzhou, who had somehow finished filming too, had changed back into his trendy hoodie and ripped jeans. Hands in pockets, he sauntered over.

A half-smile, half-sneer played on his face as his gaze flicked between Yan Huaijin and Lu Er.

Lu Er’s beautiful peach-blossom eyes, still glistening from crying, curved into a teasing smirk. “Teacher Gu, is this sour grapes because you can’t have the grape?”

After scanning Gu Jinzhou’s slightly flushed face in anger, he leaned forward slightly, spotting something amusing.

Lowering his voice, he asked, “I say, Gu Jinzhou… you don’t happen to like Teacher Yan, do you? That’s why you seem to take offense at everything I do?”

“You—you’re talking nonsense!”

Gu Jinzhou, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, bristled instantly. His voice shot up several octaves, drawing the attention of a few crew members.

His delicate face flushed with embarrassment and anger, his finger shaking as he pointed at Lu Er. “I just… don’t like you, okay? Is that so wrong?”

Lu Er leaned back leisurely in his chair, arms crossed, the smile on his face widening.

With a teasing tone, he said, “Oh? Just don’t like me? Then tell me this, Teacher Gu—Yan Huaijin guest-starred and ‘lowered his status,’ you say it’s because of me?”

“And you? The shining star of Xinghui, a versatile ACE from Korea’s top company, comes to guest-star in a role with barely any lines. Why, then?”

“Could it be… just to see me? I’m truly honored if that’s the case.”

The question was sharp, leaving Gu Jinzhou utterly speechless.

He opened his mouth to refute it but realized any words would only confirm the suspicion.

Saying it was for Yan Huaijin would be admitting Lu Er’s guess.

Saying it was for the script? The cameo part had no convincing weight.

Saying it was for Lu Er? Impossible.

Gu Jinzhou glared fiercely at Lu Er, then quickly cast a glance at the calm Yan Huaijin beside them. Finally, he snorted heavily and stormed off.

Watching him leave, Yan Huaijin could only shake his head helplessly.

“To be fair, Jinzhou is still young, and coming from the harsh environment of a trainee competition, he has a competitive and hot-tempered nature. Don’t take it too personally,” Yan Huaijin advised Lu Er.

Lu Er scoffed, putting the script back over his face. “I don’t like that excuse. It’s his first time being human too—why should I give in to him?”

“He’s from a trainee background, but you think that means I have to let him target me? If you want to tolerate him, fine. I’m not indulging his bad temper.”

Yan Huaijin was momentarily speechless but wisely dropped the topic of Gu Jinzhou and turned back: “Tomorrow, will you just sleep at the hotel all day?”

He subconsciously touched his pocket, where two rare tickets to a contemporary art exhibition had been carefully obtained.

He had intended to…

Lu Er pulled the script slightly down. “Filming is exhausting. Finally, a day off—let even the king himself come, I’m not leaving that hotel bed.”

“If Teacher Yan has free time, you can discuss acting with young Gu. I think he really needs your guidance.”

The teasing and distance in his tone were obvious.

Yan Huaijin’s eyes flickered with a barely noticeable disappointment. He caressed the tickets with his fingertips but ultimately didn’t hand them over.

He smiled gently, maintaining his warm tone: “Alright then, rest well and recharge.”

Noon, Kangren Hospital, A City

Song Jingmo finished his morning clinic and returned to his office.

Afternoon sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting neat patches on the polished floor.

He took off his white coat, rubbed his aching forehead, and picked up his phone.

The call rang several times before being answered, and Lu Er’s voice came through, slightly muffled.

Hearing Lu Er, Song Jingmo’s expression softened, his voice lowering: “Resting? Did I wake you?”

“No… just finished a scene. Collapsed in the trailer,” Lu Er yawned slightly. “What’s up? Calling at this hour… missing me?”

The last three words carried a teasing tone, like a little hook.

Song Jingmo’s lips curved slightly: “Just wanted to ask if you’re busy, tired.”

“Busy, exhausted,” Lu Er replied, voice sticky with a hint of playfulness.

“Every day I get up before dawn for makeup, shoot until midnight, my back feels like it’s breaking.”

“I don’t even get proper meals… Doctor Song, do I look thinner? You need to properly feed me when I get back.”

“This call of yours is like a lifeline, giving me half a new life,” Lu Er said.

They chatted briefly about daily matters, reporting on each other’s status—trivial yet warm.

Longing flowed silently across the phone line.

After a while, Song Jingmo naturally mentioned: “Aunt Wang told me today the girlfriend’s shedding a lot lately.”

“Her appetite’s off, she lies on your slippers all day, looking a bit down. I guess… she misses you.”

Lu Er sighed, voice softening: “I miss her too. The filming schedule’s tight; probably won’t wrap until the New Year.”

Then he paused and mischievously added, “Doctor Song, are you talking about the cat or yourself? Do you miss me?”

Caught off guard, Song Jingmo lowered his voice, magnetic and gentle: “More than the cat. Too bad, your return date is uncertain.”

Lu Er blushed, mumbling softly over the phone before finally saying: “Alright, alright. I’ll make it up to you when I get back. Enough for now.”

“Mm, go then. Stay safe.”

After hanging up, the office returned to quiet.

Song Jingmo’s tender smile faded as he stared at the phone screen, scrolling to open WeChat.

The pinned chat was with Lu Er. Below, an unread message from Qu Suiwan appeared:

[Mo Mo, your birthday is tomorrow. Any plans? [Cake] Will Er Er come back to celebrate? [Excited]]

Song Jingmo stared at it for a moment, then typed back:

[I have an afternoon surgery tomorrow, probably finishing late. Er Er is busy with filming in K City, won’t be back. Won’t celebrate the birthday—it’s not like I’m a child.]

The message sent, and Qu Suiwan quickly replied with a string of ellipses, then a head-patting emoji.

[Even if busy with work, take care of yourself. Don’t forget to eat a bowl of longevity noodles. [Hug]]

Song Jingmo replied “Okay,” then put down his phone.

He walked to the window, watching the sparse figures and bare branches in the hospital garden below.

Winter had come, and even the sunlight seemed stingy.

Twenty-nine years old.

No lover by his side.

Only a surgery waiting to be performed.

It was impossible not to feel a little lonely.

He exhaled softly, a small cloud forming and fading on the cold glass.

Hope the surgery goes well.

Hope the person far away in K City isn’t too tired.

Birthday… not that it matters.