HIM Chapter 28: The One Who Matters
The filming site was silent as a grave.
Xiao Zhu was the first to react. He quickly grabbed a large blanket and walked over to Bo Qin. Bo Qin took the blanket, bent down without much expression on his face, and gently draped it over Qiu Tian’s shoulders. Then he turned and said, “That’s all for today. Thanks, everyone. Go back to the hotel and relax in the hot springs. I’ll cover the cost.”
The staff slowly came to their senses and began to crack jokes here and there. Bo Qin walked over to the director and said, “Thanks for your hard work. Let’s call it a day.”
The director held out his hand. Bo Qin shook it, and the two bumped shoulders in a friendly gesture. Luo Ming handed him a blanket and said, “Let’s go back to the hotel and play a round of games?”
Back at the hotel, the room was filled with the smell of ginger tea. Bo Qin sneezed as soon as he came out of the shower and said, “Give me a break, why do I have to drink this stuff again?”
Tony sipped his ginger tea. “Stop whining. You wanna catch a cold?”
Luo Ming was sprawled on the couch playing with his phone. “Your phone buzzed earlier. That girl messaged you.”
Tony looked at him. “She’s into you, man. Honestly, you were kinda cold to her today.”
“She caught me off guard,” Bo Qin pinched his nose and sipped the tea. “I was startled.”
Luo Ming: “Didn’t you say girls like her were your type?”
Bo Qin glanced at him. “I don’t like girls with darker skin than me.”
Tony chuckled. “You’re not exactly fair-skinned either—look at He Xizhou.”
Bo Qin: “…”
The brief silence surprised Tony and Luo Ming. They looked up at him.
Bo Qin raised his chin and said, “There’s the door. Get lost.”
“Can’t,” Luo Ming walked to open it. “Someone’s knocking.”
Bo Qin had just gotten out of the shower, shirtless. He swore, “Open it and you’re dead. I’m not dressed.”
Tony tossed him a T-shirt, realizing Bo Qin was in a bad mood—he’d even cursed.
Outside was Qiu Tian. When she saw Luo Ming at the door, she hesitated and said, “Sorry to bother you. I wanted to talk to Mr. Bo.”
Luo Ming glanced at Bo Qin. He’d put on the T-shirt and nodded. Luo Ming stepped aside, “Come on in.”
He didn’t close the door.
Qiu Tian had changed clothes and dried her hair. Her nose was still red. She looked at Bo Qin and said, “Mr. Bo, can we talk in private?”
Bo Qin nodded, and Luo Ming and Tony tactfully went into the inner room and shut the door.
Bo Qin poured her a small cup of ginger tea. “Sit.”
Qiu Tian didn’t sit. She bowed deeply and said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Bo.”
Bo Qin smiled slightly. “Must really be sorry—you’re even calling me ‘Mr. Bo.’ You used to just call my name.”
Qiu Tian straightened up, eyes red. “I was being deliberate. You’ve always been tolerant with me, never minded when I joked around. I thought I’d test you a little. I’m really sorry.”
Bo Qin hadn’t expected her to be so honest. He paused and said, “Sit. Actually, I’m partly to blame too. I shouldn’t have been so indulgent with you. And I definitely didn’t give you any face earlier.”
He added, “There’s no desire or romantic feelings between us—just playful banter. I’ve always seen you as a kid.”
Qiu Tian looked at him sadly. Bo Qin met her eyes and paused. “A little sister, maybe?”
Qiu Tian: “That doesn’t really make me feel better.”
Bo Qin chuckled. “I was wrong too. My attitude gave you the wrong idea. But now that we’ve cleared the air, there won’t be any more misunderstandings.”
Qiu Tian sniffled. “Bo Qin, you really don’t have any feelings for me?”
Bo Qin: “Not even a little. Sorry.”
“I see,” Qiu Tian said. “You’ve seen too many beauties in the industry. I’m not good enough for you.”
“That’s not it,” Bo Qin handed her a tissue. “Everyone has their own kind of beauty, regardless of gender.”
Qiu Tian blew her nose without holding back. “Then you must have someone you like.”
Bo Qin paused. “No.”
Qiu Tian: “Then someone you care about.”
Bo Qin: “…”
Qiu Tian looked at him intently. “Right? You care about someone.”
Bo Qin pinched the bridge of his nose and called her name.
She immediately quieted down.
Bo Qin hesitated, looking at the lively young woman in front of him. He softened his tone. “Qiu Tian, I’m not much older or more experienced than you. What I’m about to say isn’t preaching—just some friendly advice.”
Qiu Tian sat up straight, eyes wide and earnest.
“You’re very talented—I’m not just being polite. You’re great in front of the camera, you’ve got the looks, and a memorable face.” Bo Qin’s tone was gentle. “That’s your strength. If you’re serious about joining the entertainment industry, protect yourself.”
“It’s much harder for women in this field than for men. I hope you’re doing this because you love it, not because you want to trade your youth and looks for fame. Otherwise, you’ll end up miserable.”
Qiu Tian opened her mouth as if to speak but said nothing.
Bo Qin smiled, signaling it was time to end the conversation. “Go back now. I hope we can finish this MV smoothly. And always remember to protect yourself.”
As she was leaving, Qiu Tian asked one last question. “What about you, Bo Qin? Are you miserable?”
Bo Qin paused at the door handle. He lowered his head slightly, thought for a moment, and said, “I used to be. But that was a long time ago. It’s over now.”
The MV shoot took four days in total. Bo Qin took a half-month break from Chen Jie and spent the remaining time with friends in Country A, writing and composing in the studio. Two days before returning, Bo Qin and Luo Ming drove a jeep into the countryside for inspiration. As they sped across endless grasslands, Bo Qin, looking at the sun hanging on the horizon, suddenly got inspired and snapped a few selfies—not for the studio, but for his personal Weibo.
His fans went wild.
When the plane landed in A City, Chen-jie asked him where he wanted to go. Bo Qin hesitated unusually long before saying, “Let’s go to Fengjiang.”
On the way there, he messaged He Xizhou. Their last chat had ended two weeks ago with He Xizhou saying “Safe travels.”
There was no immediate reply. Bo Qin idly scrolled through their messages, then, on a whim, clicked on He Xizhou’s profile.
Coincidentally, He Xizhou had posted something a day ago. Two pictures, no caption. They were filled with green—towering trees, sunbeams filtering through leaves, and a snake coiled on a branch in focus.
Bo Qin’s hand trembled, and he dropped his phone.
Xiao Zhu, riding shotgun, asked if something was wrong.
Bo Qin picked up the phone quickly and exited the image. “Nothing.”
He checked the location tag: the Amazon River region in South America.
Bo Qin shut his phone.
When they arrived at Fengjiang, Xiao Zhu wanted to stay and help, but Bo Qin sent him away. Tired from travel and emotionally drained, he just wanted to be alone. A hot shower, some instant noodles, maybe sleep—or, if insomnia hit, a long session in the studio.
Unexpectedly, someone was already in the villa.
A middle-aged man, about 45–50, with well-groomed gray hair and formal attire, bowed politely.
Bo Qin was startled. The man took his coat naturally and said in a gentle voice, “Mr. Bo, I’m Wen, Mr. He’s private butler. If there’s anything you need, I’m at your service.”
Bo Qin rubbed his nose. “...Okay. But I probably won’t need anything.”
Wen smiled kindly. “Mr. He said you value peace and quiet. I’ll ensure you have a serene and relaxing environment.”
Wen made him tea and prepped a bath. When Bo Qin came downstairs refreshed, a perfectly warm meal was waiting. The scent of familiar incense filled the room, and soft piano music played in the background. The lighting was just right.
Wen’s presence was unintrusive, making Bo Qin feel completely at ease. After eating, he curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a soft blanket, laptop in hand, composing. Rain sounded softly outside—or maybe it was Wen’s sound system.
Bo Qin didn’t know. He fell asleep.
When he woke, it was dark. The rain was real, now confirmed by the sound and chill in the air. He felt hot—feverish. His breath was heavy.
He sighed and realized: he had caught a cold.
Fuzzy-headed and weak, the illness intensified his sense of isolation. He curled up tighter under the blanket, zoning out, until he noticed his phone vibrating.
His notifications were off. Chen-jie knew his habits—if she called, it had to be something urgent.
He ignored it.
But it rang again.
Bo Qin sighed and finally picked it up. It was a foreign number.
Somehow, he knew.
He pressed answer.
“Hello, Xiao Qin?” came the familiar, low voice. “What are you doing? Are you back in Fengjiang?”
Bo Qin: “...Yeah, just woke up.”
He Xizhou paused. “Did I wake you?”
Bo Qin gave a small, unconscious laugh. “No. I just woke up.”
Face buried in the blanket, he mumbled, “Ge, what are you doing?”
“...In Rio. There’s a project here,” He Xizhou said. “Xiao Qin, are you feeling unwell?”
Bo Qin’s nose stung. He replied, “A little.”
He Xizhou asked gently, “Where does it hurt?”
Bo Qin didn’t want to answer. “Is it morning there? I hear birds.”
“It is. Qiao Lei and I are heading to the rainforest to shoot something,” He Xizhou replied. “I should be back next week.”
“Oh.” Bo Qin smiled and rolled over. “Is shooting in the jungle fun?”
Someone in the background asked He Xizhou a question in English. “Sorry, Xiao Qin, give me a moment.” He cupped the phone, his voice muffled, and Bo Qin, listening to the English, slowly drifted off again.
He vaguely felt himself being lifted gently.
He opened his eyes. It was Wen.
Wen smiled. “Mr. He called and said you weren’t feeling well. I didn’t notice—that’s my fault.”
He gave Bo Qin medicine, placed a cold towel on his forehead. The coolness eased the discomfort.
Bo Qin curled up again, this time falling into a deep sleep.
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