HOYSE CHAPTER 73

Chapter 73 – Get Lost

The moment he sank beneath the water, Rong Jing began counting the seconds in his head before surfacing again.

Even when there were no cameras rolling, his expression stayed fixed, tense, desperate, carrying a subtle undercurrent of pain. Not a single moment of slack.

Just as Gu Xi had once said, Rong Jing always kept his own rhythm in acting.

According to the script and the character’s psychology, as Fu Qianming fails to find the jade pendant, his dives would grow longer and longer. The final dive would push him to his very limits before he resurfaced. To make it real, Rong Jing adjusted his breath-holding times on his own.

He had once spent months learning professional diving techniques for a shark thriller film, training himself to stay underwater, control his breathing, and even resist panic. When he told this director that he was “good in the water,” it wasn’t a bluff.

Rong Jing broke through the surface. Water shimmered and cascaded off him like crystal rain.

But when he lifted his eyes to the surroundings, his mind went blank.

It was still night. The moon hung low, the stars faint. He was in a pond, surrounded by cameras and crew. Once he climbed ashore, familiar staff rushed toward him, calling, “Teacher Rong, that was great! Hard work!”

Looking down at his period costume, something clicked in his memory.

This was the set of the police drama he had filmed before he ever transmigrated. He had played a detective suspected of a crime, diving into the pond to find the spot where the killer had dumped a body, hoping to clear his name.

As the plot deepened, more and more people around him died, pushing him into a spiral of despair. It was a fast-paced web drama, but Rong Jing had given it everything he had.

To play the role right, he’d lost fifteen pounds in two weeks.

But that drama had long since finished filming. So how…? Did this pond have the power to cross time and space?

Ever since he was inexplicably sent into the novel world, Rong Jing had thought he could no longer be surprised. And compared to opening his eyes inside a fictional universe, falling through a pond actually made more sense as a “portal.”

He wandered back to his old resting spot, still remembering exactly where he used to wait between takes.

That in itself meant something, this time and place held weight in his heart.

He was still processing the shock of returning when his second sister appeared, pushing a cake trolley toward him. The cake was full of candles, its frosting crooked and uneven. Rong Jing knew she’d made it herself, despite never being good at baking.

She and the rest of the cast and crew sang the birthday song together as ribbons and confetti bloomed in the air.

His sister waved her hand in front of his dazed face, laughing. “Don’t tell me you forgot your own birthday? What’s with that blank face?”

Rong Jing’s throat worked soundlessly for a moment. He stared at her, emotions surging uncontrollably.

She only existed in his memories. His voice came out hoarse. “Second Sister…”

He hadn’t refused to think of them. He had just buried it so deep he’d almost forgotten.

Because he knew there was no way back. Rather than drown in nostalgia, he chose to look forward.

But people are drawn to their roots. Where those roots lie, there is home. And where home is, there is family.

He missed them. God, he missed them so much.

Suddenly, Rong Jing stepped forward and pulled his petite sister into his arms.

She froze, she had never seen her usually reserved little brother so openly emotional.

“Hey, what’s gotten into you? You look like you’re about to cry. Mom and Dad are on the way, we’ll celebrate together tonight.” Seeing no response, she teased, “Ah, is it because Big Sister couldn’t come? She’s overseas, remember? But she said she’ll video call you later… Good grief, it’s been ages since you acted this spoiled.”

“Don’t call me ‘baby.’” He’d told her that so many times.

She chuckled and patted his head. “Right, right, forgot. Our Jingjing’s all grown up.”

His smile froze. Wait, if he had come back… then where was Gu Xi?

“Second Sister, do you still remember that novel you showed me?”

“What novel?”

“The one called…” What was it called?

Why couldn’t he remember? As if a fog had rolled in, swallowing half his memory.

He looked around, the moonlight, the trees, the wind, the shadows. Everything was too real.

Even touch, he spread his fingers and clenched them.

Where… am I?

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Gu Xi rushed to the spot where Rong Jing had gone under for the third time. He searched the murky pond, but the water was so dark he couldn’t see a thing.

Closing his eyes, he relied on instinct.

He swept his arms through the cold water, but felt nothing, just endless liquid emptiness.

Until at last, just as despair crept in, his fingers brushed against a body.

Gu Xi almost sobbed with relief.

He thought Rong Jing had gotten tangled in something underwater, but when he got closer, he realized Rong Jing was curled up tightly, hugging his knees.

It looked almost like a newborn’s fetal pose, a desperate instinct to shield himself from harm.

It was too wrong. Gu Xi’s heart thudded painfully as he fumbled for Rong Jing’s lips, pressed his mouth over them, and shared the air he had been holding.

Rong Jing’s lips had always been warm. Always alive.

Now they were cold.

Gu Xi’s hands trembled as he cupped his face, silently screaming his name inside.

Rong Jing… Rong Jing…!

He dragged Rong Jing’s limp body upward with all his strength.

Maybe he really did hear Gu Xi’s voice, because his body finally relaxed slightly, though his breathless stillness was terrifying.

When Gu Xi pulled him ashore, gasping, he immediately motioned for everyone to back up and give them space to breathe.

People stepped away quickly, shocked that the man who swam so well had almost drowned for real.

The noise buzzed in Gu Xi’s ears, but he ignored it. Seeing the faint rise of Rong Jing’s chest, he still didn’t relax. He began chest compressions, counting under his breath, alternating with mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

His eyes were red. He couldn’t stop staring at Rong Jing’s unresponsive face.

Finally, at long last, Rong Jing drew in a shallow, shuddering breath.

Gu Xi let out a cry of relief, patting his back to help him cough the water out.

Rong Jing blinked slowly. His eyes stung.

Water clung to his lashes like tiny crystals. Through the glimmering haze, Gu Xi’s face appeared, dreamlike, luminous.

Rong Jing reached out without thinking, wanting to touch him, to be sure this wasn’t still a dream. Then he quickly drew back his hand, scanning his surroundings as his reason returned.

Director Liu Yu was already ordering someone to call emergency services. Whether or not Rong Jing was from a wealthy family, he was still the male lead and if something happened, none of them could take that responsibility.

Rong Jing stopped them with effort. “Don’t call 120. I’ll go to the hospital myself later.”

He didn’t want to cause a stir. Partly because Xie Ling was already swamped handling Xie Jisheng’s messes, and he didn’t want to add to his brother’s worries. But also because this hallucination… felt different. Too real.

The pacing, the timing, even the emotions, all of it was seamless. There had been no visible flaws, no hint that it wasn’t real.

Perfect.

Yes. Too perfect.

Unlike the previous illusions, which had clear seams and escape routes, this one had been airtight, logical, vivid, and suffocatingly immersive.

It felt like… a trap.

As if someone else had been pulling the strings.

Maybe he was just being paranoid, shaken from nearly dying.

But when your world tries to kill you, paranoia is survival.

If there really was someone behind all this, his outburst tonight would only help them learn more about him.

After regaining his composure, he quietly told the director not to publicize the incident. If word got out that a lead actor nearly drowned, it would only drag the production into negative headlines.

Liu Yu was moved. What a considerate newcomer, so responsible, so thoughtful.

It wasn’t until Rong Jing left for the hospital that Liu Yu remembered.

Wait. Wasn’t this movie funded mostly by the Xie family? And didn’t Rong Jing personally invest a huge sum himself?

Of course he was being cautious, it was his own money on the line!

Liu Yu smacked his forehead. “Ah! No wonder he’s the boss.”

That’s what real business sense looks like.

Working for his own benefit while making everyone else thank him for it. Ah, capitalists.

Just then, Zhou You arrived from the company and threw a coat over Rong Jing’s shoulders. As they walked out of the set, they nearly collided with Gu Xi, who had just been helped away after changing clothes.

After saving Rong Jing, Gu Xi had been ushered off immediately, while others crowded around Rong Jing. The two had been separated before they could even speak.

Now, when they met again, their eyes locked, two points of heat drawn tight by an invisible string.

“Wait here.”

Before anyone could react, Rong Jing grabbed Gu Xi’s wrist and took off at a half-run.

Gu Xi let out a small gasp, his gaze dropping to where their hands touched.

Mo Dian and Zhou You exchanged a look then looked away.

They both suddenly felt like very unnecessary people.

Rong Jing pulled Gu Xi into a quiet corner.

He could still hear it, the voice from his hallucination. It had been Gu Xi’s voice.

If not for that, he might still be trapped, convinced he’d really gone home.

Only Gu Xi could make him feel what was real.

It was a dead-end alley. Rong Jing pressed Gu Xi against the wall, his hand firm on that slender waist.

The raw fear of nearly dying burned away into something heavier, desire, desperate and unspoken. In that dim corner, it spread silently, thick as heat.

Rong Jing cupped Gu Xi’s face, tracing the living warmth of his skin.

He’s real. Where Gu Xi is, reality is.

His fingers brushed from chin to temple, grazing the corner of his lips.

Gu Xi trembled under the touch, his own hands sliding up to cling to Rong Jing’s shoulders. His head tilted back slightly, eyes fluttering closed in surrender.

Just moments ago, they had brushed death. That kind of separation left a hollow that could only be filled by closeness.

Gu Xi waited for a rough, breathless kiss, a kiss that would say you’re alive, we’re both alive.

Instead, a warm weight dropped against his shoulder.

Startled, Gu Xi opened his eyes and found Rong Jing resting there, like a large, exhausted hound.

Rong Jing breathed in the faint scent on Gu Xi’s neck, letting it calm the frantic beat of his heart.

Gu Xi took a slow breath, forcing a smile. Of course. To Rong Jing, he was just a friend. Maybe something slightly above that, but only slightly. And even that might be his imagination.

At a time like this, all Rong Jing ever gave was a hug.

Everything else… was just Gu Xi thinking too much.

Heh. Damn friend zone.

At that moment, a tall figure appeared at the end of the corridor, scanning the area.

As he walked past, his lazy gaze caught the faint, overlapping silhouettes in the corner and froze.

Rong Jing, back turned, didn’t notice. All his focus was on the man in his arms.

But Gu Xi did.

Facing outward, he saw the man clearly under the light, Wu Fuyu.

One hand slid up Rong Jing’s back, the other threading through his hair. Gu Xi leaned in close, lips brushing his ear, his tongue flicking lightly, seen from afar, it looked like a kiss.

But his eyes never left Wu Fuyu.

Those soft, gentle eyes sharpened into blades, gleaming with fury.

Get lost.

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