AVRL 58

Meng Chi agreed to She Shan’s request to make Fuzhou the first stop for their shoot not only because She Shan insisted on it, but also because it was currently the peak jasmine blooming season—the precise time when jasmine tea production began hitting the market.

Fuzhou, the birthplace of jasmine tea, boasts a rich history spanning nearly a thousand years. Blessed with unique natural conditions for outdoor jasmine cultivation, its climate offers the optimal ecological environment for jasmine growth in terms of sunlight, temperature, water, and heat. The local jasmine flowers are exceptionally fragrant, and the scented “Jasmine Tea” produced here is renowned far and wide for its superior quality.

Most of Youran Teahouse’s jasmine tea came from Fuzhou. Back when Meng Chi accompanied Yang Zhengfeng to visit suppliers, he had specifically learned the scented tea processing techniques and possessed a solid understanding of jasmine tea.

This shoot aimed to capture the full scenting process of jasmine tea. Meng Chi had contacted Brother Wang in advance—a long-time supplier for Youran Teahouse—and booked a hotel near the tea plantation.

Since the tea plantation leaned against the mountains and was mostly surrounded by villages and small towns, the hotel naturally wasn’t high-end. It was merely a small, ordinary inn occupying a tiny patch of space with just a bed and a rudimentary bathroom.

“This is already the best hotel in our Xiqiao Town. The environment is what it is, so please bear with it,” Brother Wang said, leading Meng Chi’s group into the hotel. Seeing She Shan and the others dressed impeccably and driving a nice car, he knew they came from wealthy backgrounds and worried they wouldn’t be used to it, offering a word of warning in advance.

Having been here before, Meng Chi naturally didn’t mind. However, he remained unaccustomed to the damp climate; the musty odor in the room caused him slight discomfort, though it was still manageable.

“It’s fine. Having a place to stay is good enough,” She Shan replied cheerfully.

Although he was a genuine wealthy second-generation heir who had grown up in the lap of luxury, his adventurous personality had led him to travel all over the world. He had even slept in cars for shoots before, so he wasn’t particularly bothered.

“It’s pretty good. During past shoots, we even stayed in rooms that leaked rain,” Fat Bro and Xiao Ying chimed in together.

“At least it won’t leak here.”

After a few shared laughs, Brother Wang picked up the room keys from the front desk and led them to their rooms. “Five rooms in total—three on the first floor and two on the second floor. You can divide them up amongst yourselves.”

Fuzhou’s climate was damp, turning quite muggy once summer set in. The layout of this small inn had a few flaws: many rooms lacked windows and relied solely on exhaust fans. Though Brother Wang tried his best to arrange rooms with windows, one room still remained windowless.

Meng Chi took the keycard for the windowless room himself, then glanced at Song Min, whose brow had been slightly furrowed ever since stepping through the front door: “Song Min, you pick first.”

After a moment’s thought, Song Min chose the room next to Meng Chi’s. She Shan, being too lazy to climb the stairs, also picked the first floor. Thus, the three of them stayed on the first floor, while Fat Bro and Xiao Ying stayed on the second floor.

The location where Yang Youran was shooting her variety show was a remote mountain village about a two-hour drive from where Meng Chi and his crew were staying. Shooting was still underway, so Yang Youran couldn’t leave freely.

Meng Chi didn’t know much about it and hadn’t asked her; everything he knew came entirely from She Shan.

Despite She Shan’s ulterior motives for coming to Fuzhou, he was serious about the shoot. After touring the jasmine tea production process with Brother Wang, he produced a shooting script the very next day.

The shoot required Meng Chi to appear on camera making tea. Having collaborated with She Shan before and studied jasmine tea scenting, the filming went very smoothly.

However, due to the abundance of summer mosquitoes and insects, Meng Chi’s sensitive skin broke out in a few red bumps where bugs had bitten his hand. Finding his hands unappealing for the shot, She Shan wanted to find him a hand double.

Meng Chi looked at his own hands with melancholy and muttered under his breath, “I should have let Teacher Yu tag along.”

She Shan, who was reviewing footage nearby, glanced at him: “What did you say?”

“Nothing.” Meng Chi withdrew his hand. Catching sight of a pair of fair, clean hands holding a camera nearby out of the corner of his eye, he suggested, “Let Song Min do it. He has nice hands.”

Caught off guard by the compliment, Song Min froze. He looked at Meng Chi with a touch of embarrassment, suddenly remembering that back when they first met, Meng Chi had indeed often looked at his hands and praised how nice they looked when holding a covered teacup.

“My hands look good?”

“Mm.” Meng Chi nodded, looking at his hands. “Aren’t these much better-looking than mine?”

She Shan: “They are better-looking than yours.”

Song Min hesitated: “But I don’t know how to make tea.”

She Shan: “What does that matter? Meng Chi can just teach you.”

Song Min turned his eyes back to Meng Chi, who smiled and nodded at him: “I’ll teach you.”

“Well then, Xiao Min has been tagging along this whole trip—he’s finally doing something other than hard labor,” Fat Bro teased merrily.

Feeling a bit self-conscious, Song Min didn’t refuse any further, rolling up his sleeves to learn from Meng Chi.

It was only a few close-up shots requiring no real technical skill; Meng Chi just needed to teach him a few hand gestures step by step. As Song Min rolled up his sleeves, Meng Chi noticed a few small red spots on the inner side of his forearm as well. However, because they were positioned higher up, they could be covered by his sleeves without affecting the shoot.

It was already dark by the time filming wrapped up. The group returned straight to the hotel, waiting for food delivery to arrive.

When Meng Chi stepped out after taking a shower, a WeChat message sat on his phone. Five minutes ago, She Shan had messaged saying dinner had arrived and called him over to eat in his room. The WeChat message Meng Chi had sent to Yu Tingzhi asking to 【Show me your hands】 had received no reply yet.

Though they were apart, Meng Chi knew Yu Tingzhi was taking a philosophy exam these past few days and was likely grading papers. Sending another message saying 【Remember to eat dinner】, he headed over to She Shan’s room.

The moment he walked through the door, Meng Chi caught the savory aroma of seafood. She Shan was holding a sea crab in his hands, eating with great relish.

Noticing Meng Chi enter, he raised his chin toward the other side of the table: “You can’t eat seafood, so I ordered a separate meal for you.”

“Just one portion?” Meng Chi picked up the packaging bag, seeing a home-style meal of two dishes and a soup inside.

She Shan: “Isn’t that enough for you?”

“No, Song Min can’t eat seafood either,” Meng Chi said.

She Shan: “Ah? He’s not allergic to seafood, though.”

Recalling the red spots on Song Min’s hand, Meng Chi remarked, “He might be unaccustomed to the climate—it looks like eczema.”

She Shan was taken aback: “Then let’s order another portion.”

“It’s fine. Give him this one, I’m not hungry yet.” Carrying the meal, Meng Chi left She Shan’s room, just in time to bump into Song Min coming downstairs for dinner. Meng Chi handed the meal over to him.

Song Min didn’t even realize he had eczema himself, having dismissed the itchy skin as mosquito bites. Hearing Meng Chi point it out made him feel both touched and embarrassed.

Reading his expression, Meng Chi knew what he was thinking and added, “Eat first. I’m not hungry yet, don’t worry about me.”

Song Min wanted to say something more, but Meng Chi’s phone rang. As Meng Chi tapped open WeChat to reply, Song Min refrained from speaking further and carried the dinner back to his room.

The reply came from Yu Tingzhi, asking him: 【Is it convenient now?】

Seeing no one around outside the small inn, Meng Chi initiated a video call. A moment later, Yu Tingzhi picked up.

Through the phone screen, Meng Chi saw Yu Tingzhi wearing a dress shirt with gold-rimmed glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. The background looked unfamiliar; Meng Chi guessed he was still in his office at the university.

“Haven’t gone home yet?” Meng Chi asked.

“Mm, a few more exam papers left.” Yu Tingzhi adjusted his phone just enough for Meng Chi to catch sight of his chaste, attractive face and the subtle hint of his collarbone beneath the shirt.

“Have you eaten?” Meng Chi asked again.

“Ordered food, hasn’t arrived yet,” Yu Tingzhi replied. “How about you?”

“Not hungry yet, and don’t know what to eat either. What did you order?” Meng Chi inquired.

“Noodles from Xianji,” Yu Tingzhi said.

“Then I’ll head out and see if there’s a noodle shop around. We can consider it eating together, roughly speaking.” With that thought, Meng Chi returned to his room to grab his earphones before stepping out of the inn.

Yu Tingzhi let out a soft laugh and asked him, “Why did you suddenly ask to see my hands?”

Meng Chi chuckled: “She Shan criticized my hands for being ugly today, so I wanted to look at a pair of beautiful hands to feel good.”

Yu Tingzhi raised an eyebrow slightly: “Looking at my hands is enough to make you feel good?”

The low-pitched remark traveled through the earphones directly onto Meng Chi’s eardrum, making his ears burn and his heart itch. Seeing no one around, he lowered his voice: “That depends on whether you’re only going to show me your hands.”

Yu Tingzhi’s voice deepened a notch: “What else do you want to see?”

Meng Chi laughed softly: “Hmm… how about showing off the artist’s handiwork?”

In the video, Yu Tingzhi narrowed his eyes slightly: “I haven’t gone home yet. Don’t seduce me.”

Meng Chi burst into a hearty laugh. His interest was piqued at the moment, and he wanted to tease him a bit more. But realizing he was still out on the street, fanning a flame he couldn’t put out would only cause him frustration and embarrassment.

Happening upon a noodle shop, he stepped inside.

The shop had few patrons, so Meng Chi didn’t hang up the call. By the time Meng Chi’s noodle dish arrived at his table, Yu Tingzhi’s delivery had arrived as well. The two kept each other company across their screens as they ate dinner together.

As Yu Tingzhi resumed his work, Meng Chi returned to the hotel, stopping by a nearby pharmacy along the way to buy two tubes of ointment for Song Min.

“One for topical application, one for oral intake,” Meng Chi carefully instructed Song Min according to the pharmacist’s advice. “Besides your arms, do you have them anywhere else?”

Song Min knit his brows in thought: “My waist feels a bit itchy too, but I can’t see it, so I’m not sure.”

Meng Chi: “Lift your shirt so I can take a look.”

“Huh?” Song Min froze, staring at him without moving. Perhaps because Meng Chi’s demeanor was entirely composed, Song Min’s brief hesitation made the moment feel awkward. Trying to smooth it over, he added, “Then… please help me check.”

Saying this, he turned around and lifted the hem of his shirt.

The moment he saw the red spots on his porcelain-white skin, Meng Chi’s brows furrowed. Holding the hem of the shirt, he lifted it a bit higher, seeing quite a few spots across his back, with the skin on his side slightly scratched open.

“It’s fine, not too severe. Applying some ointment should clear it right up,” Meng Chi said, prompting him to lie flat on the bed while he pulled out the tube of ointment and cotton swabs to help him apply it.

Far away in Zewu, Yu Tingzhi had wrapped up his work as well. Arriving home, he sent Meng Chi a WeChat message. Dividing his attention, Meng Chi applied the medicine with one hand while replying to the message with the other.

With ointment on his fingers, typing proved inconvenient. Meng Chi extended his ring finger and pressed down on the voice message button. Just as his lips parted, Song Min—lying flat on the sofa—suddenly let out a soft, sharp gasp, speaking in a voice as faint as a mosquito’s hum: “It hurts a little… Brother Meng, go gentler.”

Meng Chi’s hand subconsciously slackened. At the exact moment the cotton swab pressing against Song Min’s waist let go, his left ring finger slipped off the button as well.

With a swoosh, the voice message was sent successfully.