"Let's get in position," director Feng said in the room where Yushan and Mengyao were.
His voice carried the calm authority it always had when he was setting up a crucial scene. "The first scene is already over, and the crew is heading here," he added, glancing at his notes before stepping back to give them space.
Yushan and Mengyao sat on the bed. The air around them already felt thick with tension and focus, a quiet hum of expectation filling the corners of the room.
Before Yushan had asked for some changes, the original direction had been to have them lying on the bed, half-entangled, making out in a more intimate setup.
But Yushan had suggested a change, now they were only sitting close to each other, their knees touching, the air between them charged, leaning in just enough to give that hint of closeness the camera needed.
Their faces hovered inches apart, lips almost meeting, the faint rhythm of their breathing the only thing moving between them.
Yushan's golden-tinted eyes flicked briefly toward the camera lights before locking back on Mengyao's face, staying deep in character, right until the sound of a knock echoed softly across the room.
But before Yushan could open his mouth to give permission, the door creaked and opened anyway... Just as the script demanded.
Jun entered, holding a tray carefully balanced in his hands, the slight tremor in his fingers barely noticeable except to the sharpest eyes.
The cameras followed his every movement from behind, while several crew members already stationed inside turned their focus to capture the perfect reaction shot.
In this part, Yushan's character was supposed to be startled, visibly caught off guard, found in this compromising state by the very omega personal servant, the same one he had kissed.
He was supposed to force himself to lash out in anger, to disguise the flicker of guilt and attraction under a mask of authority, scolding Jun for barging in without permission.
But that was only what was supposed to happen.
What actually happened was that Yushan's eyes found Jun's face and stayed there. His gaze locked onto the faint glimmer of tears that hadn't yet fallen, the tired redness circling Jun's eyes, the raw and open emotion that sat there as if it wasn't being acted at all.
For a moment, Yushan forgot the cameras, and also forgot the fact that he had a line there, forgot everything except the fact that those eyes looked heartbreakingly real.
Jun was deep in character, maybe too deep. The silent pain in his expression wasn't the polished, performative type; it was raw, the kind that almost looked too personal.
He looked like someone breaking right in front of them, his lips parting slightly as though breathing itself hurt.
Yushan had seen this before. Jun's tears always did something to him. The way his eyes shimmered, how his expression stayed fragile, it drew something unexplainable out of Yushan every time.
This wasn't the first time his composure had cracked because of it.
Yesterday, when they were tested for chemistry, it had happened again. That fragile expression on Jun's face had made Yushan kiss him deeply than necessary, far longer than the direction called for.
The memory of that moment still lingered uncomfortably under his skin, the warmth of Jun's lips still feeling too real to dismiss.
Now, watching him again, with those eyes glistening and filled with quiet exhaustion, that same uncontrollable reaction threatened to rise again.
It frustrated him, irritated him even. He could feel frustration rising like heat, flooding beneath his skin, pushing against the calm discipline he had built for years in his career.
"Cut," director Feng's voice broke through the silence, low and puzzled. "Yushan? What happened? Did you forget your lines?" His tone was genuinely confused because Yushan never forgot. Not once.
Heads turned toward him.
Yushan blinked once, hard, as if snapping out of a trance. "Sorry," he said quietly, his voice flat and controlled. He looked away for a second, jaw tightening before he straightened his posture. "Let's retake it."
The door closed again, the set reset to its initial position. Jun stepped out, then back in, knocking once before pushing the door open without waiting for permission, exactly as scripted.
This time, Yushan deliberately avoided his eyes. He looked slightly above them, fixing his gaze on a neutral point that wouldn't pull him in.
"How dare you enter my room without my permission!" he growled, finally delivering the line, the words were correct, but the tone was not.
The anger came out too sharp, too real. It wasn't the poised, wounded anger of a powerful alpha hiding his feelings; it was laced with something personal, something uncontrolled.
It was frustration pouring out through the character's mouth.
"Cut," director Feng said again, his voice firmer this time but still uncertain.
Yushan's jaw clenched. He could feel his irritation spike. He rarely missed a beat once, let alone twice.
"Yushan," director Feng said carefully, stepping forward a little, "remember... this is someone you secretly love, even if you refuse to admit it, even to yourself. You kissed him once, touched him when you knew you shouldn't. So when he sees you like this, of course, you're stunned. You're not truly angry, you're just trying to hide what you feel. Think of it as being caught cheating, and when you lash out, it's forced. You're angry at yourself, not at him."
Yushan nodded slightly, though his expression didn't change much. He understood every word, he didn't need the explanation, but the problem wasn't the scene. It wasn't the direction. It was him.
The way Jun's eyes had looked when he stepped into that room, the faint shine of tears, the fragile rise and fall of his breathing, it had burned into Yushan's mind, refusing to fade.
And now, the fact that he was messing up, that he was letting it show, only made it worse. He knew what the others must be thinking already. That maybe this wasn't about direction or acting. That maybe he was distracted because Jun wasn't Xin.
The thought made his stomach twist.
"Let's try it again," director Feng said, breaking the silence once more.
Yushan exhaled through his nose, steadying himself, his voice clipped but calm as he nodded. The room fell quiet again, cameras rolling back into position, and as the set lights came on once more, he forced every emotion down deep, trying to bury it under control.