Chapter 3 Why are you so good?

The next morning, Shang Mu flew south to the coastal area on a business trip to shoot the cover of a new fashion magazine. When he got off the plane, his phone already had several missed calls.

He didn't answer the call either. He just picked out one message and replied sparingly: I'm on a business trip and will be back in a few days.

Zhou Wangchuan was on duty at the hospital when he received the news. He looked at the few words without the slightest bit of surprise. After every argument, Shang Mu would use the excuse of being on a business trip, but in reality, it was just to avoid him. Both sides were used to this kind of thing.

He replied: Okay, be safe when you are out, and call me if you have any questions.

After sending the message, he waited patiently for a long time, but Shang Mu did not reply.

Zhou Wangchuan put his phone back in his pocket as if it were normal. They had been together for six years, but the initial passion had long since faded. Now Shang Mu only gave him the "necessary" instructions, not a single unnecessary word.

He thought that perhaps before long, even this necessary explanation wouldn't be necessary. He didn't want to think about what would happen after that.

After Shang Mu arrived in the south, he only had time to go back to the hotel to take a shower before he immediately started working. It was not until just before the shoot that he learned that a new photographer had joined the crew.

The assistant whispered to him, "He's said to be a renowned photographer who just returned from abroad. He's won tons of awards. Vogue magazine called him something like 'an eagle-like aesthetic discoverer.' He has a ton of other titles, and lots of people want to hire him, but he's very picky and won't take photos if he doesn't like them. They say the company put a lot of effort into hiring him this time."

Shang Mu narrowed his eyes slightly, watching the man adjusting his equipment not far away. He didn't care about being a master or not, he only cared about whether he could work together. He was a very self-centered person, especially when photographing clothes he designed, and he was often reluctant to listen to others' opinions. The photographers he had worked with in the past respected his ideas very much, only giving some comments on composition, which was why the two of them had been able to work together for so long.

As for this...

Noticing the gaze, the photographer who was fiddling with his camera stopped what he was doing, walked towards Shang Mu, and extended his hand with a smile: "Hello, Mr. Shang, I'm photographer Cliff. I hope we can have a pleasant cooperation."

Shang Mu shook hands with him and said, "What a nice name."

"Searching for beauty is like picking that unique snow lotus on a cliff. It's dangerous, but worth it. That's why I chose this name for myself." Cliff maintained a gentlemanly smile. "Mr. Shang, I've seen all the covers you've shot for Flowering. Out of ten, I can only give you an eight - I'm sorry."

Without giving Shang Mu a chance to speak, he continued, "The photographer is too mediocre. He can't show half of your beauty. These two points are deducted here."

Shang Mu had already begun to dislike this pretentious and mysterious guy, knowing that this cooperation would be difficult. However, this overtime was originally a last-minute decision, and if he really couldn't get along, he could just not do it.

Even though his mind was turning over and over, Shang Mu's face remained calm and he said calmly, "Thank you for your appreciation."

Before the shoot began, Cliff suggested, "You can move around a bit first to wake up your muscles. That will make you look better and stronger."

This suggestion was considered insider advice, so Shang Mu accepted it.

There was a gym outside the studio. Shang Mu did a set of pull-ups, a set of push-ups, and then exercised his legs and arms in front of the fitness equipment.

Cliff watched from the side: "Mr. Shang, although your body is not thin, it is a little thin. I didn't expect you to be so strong."

Shang Mu ignored him and concentrated on exercising.

When he jumped off the equipment, the hem of his clothes got caught, revealing the remaining red marks on his waist and abdomen. When he took off his clothes, within a few seconds, Cliff's eyes had changed.

That's the look of someone discovering their own kind.

Shang Mu's eyes casually swept across the photographer's face and walked out.

Cliff followed him and said, "Mr. Shang, I've been abroad for eight years and met many people like you. I've also experienced painful transactions and exchanges with many of them. But they're all too thin—people who have this hobby generally have poor stomachs, so it's hard not to be thin. Too thin, and there's no feeling. This is the first time I've seen such a perfect figure like yours."

"If I'm not mistaken—are those marks from being rubbed? I guess Mr. Shang is a mysophobe and wouldn't let anyone touch his body, so he asked the other person to wear cotton gloves. But he used too much force, and the cotton gloves rubbed your skin."

"I've also encountered people with mysophobia like this, so I invented a pair of skin-friendly gloves made of nanomaterials. If Mr. Shang is willing, we can try it—"

Shang Mu finally stopped, turned around and looked at Cliff, saying expressionlessly, "I won't get into disputes with my colleagues outside of work."

"Besides," he narrowed his eyes and said coldly, "I don't like people commenting on my figure. I hope this is the last time I hear such words."

Cliff's eyes flashed with regret: "That's a shame."

The sea is deep blue in autumn, and the sunlight shines on the sea surface, making it sparkle with gold.

When the filming crew arrived at the beach, Cliff took one look and said, "Wait for the sunset."

He asked Shang Mu to stand somewhere on the beach and pointed to a spot in the shallow water: "At the moment of sunset, this will be the golden section point. I plan to capture that shot."

Shang Mu understood what he meant at a glance and thought that this man had a sharp eye.

"I'll need a flower later," said Cliff.

Shang Mu went to the flower shop next door and picked out a bright red rose.

Two hours later, the setting sun was hovering on the horizon, and the camera flashed slightly at the moment it set.

Many tourists stopped to watch this scene, their eyes full of amazement——

Amidst the deep blue sea, a beautiful woman in a pure white shirt half-knelt in the shallow waters off the coast, leaning slightly forward, eyes closed, sniffing the vibrant red rose in her hand. The water barely reached her hips, gently lapping at her waist, outlining her exquisite figure. The rose's sharp thorns pricked her fingers and lips, leaving a smear of blood-red. The crimson hued her pale face, like a beautiful yet fragile mermaid from ancient times.

Cliff looked at the camera and murmured, "What a stunner."

After Shang Mu returned to the hotel, he immediately took a hot shower, declined the dinner invitation, and curled up in bed to check his phone.

The news stayed in the morning.

"Okay, be safe when you're out there, and call me if you need anything."

He stared at the message for a long time, then irritably threw his phone to the end of the bed. He grabbed the pillow and pressed it hard against his abdomen, veins bulging on his wrists.

In order to make it easier for the photographer to capture the moment of sunset, he knelt in the sea for twenty minutes before shooting. The autumn sea water was icy cold. He had not yet recovered from the last practice, and his stomach caught a cold. On the way back to the hotel, he was in so much pain that he could hardly stand.

But he hated the pain.

He hated the pain from cold or illness; it made him feel weak, and he didn't want to appear weak. He preferred using medication or external force, which allowed him to control the pain and enjoy it.

After the pain subsided a little, Shang Mu took out his laptop from his suitcase and logged into his account on the live streaming platform.

At the same time, Zhou Wangchuan, who was making rounds in the inpatient department, felt his phone vibrate and a message popped up: "The host you follow, 'Masked Man', has started broadcasting~"

In the picture, the young man sits casually on a soft chair, an intricate and gorgeous mask covering most of his face, leaving only his pale chin and lips exposed.

The mask was made of thick brass, carved with a brilliant red rose pattern. The relief was so realistic that it looked as if roses had grown on the face.

The young man's voice was a little hoarse: "Good evening, everyone."

Zhou Wangchuan handed the ward round record to the nurse and quickly walked back to the office.

Two years ago, he knew that Shang Mu would occasionally do live broadcasts in order to find a practice partner - the last practice partner was the second on the list of Shang Mu's live broadcast room.

As for the number one...

Zhou Wangchuan skillfully fired a hundred rockets.

Shang Mu in the hotel glanced at the screen: "Thanks..." He paused, "for the rocket."

This "涐①直認ゐ" is the top-ranked person in his livestream, and every time he goes live, he receives hundreds of thousands of gifts. Others give gifts simply to schedule a practice with him or to see him in pain, but this top-ranked person never makes any demands and is always urging him to rest in the comments.

Moreover, the tone was so familiar that he thought it was... someone.

As soon as this thought came up, a non-mainstream comment floated across the barrage: "芣鼡塮~"

Shang Mu: "..." He was overthinking it.

Meanwhile, Zhou Wangchuan turned off an app called "Martian Text Converter" on his phone. Couples need to give each other some space. Shang Mu always used the excuse of working overtime at the company to cover up his livestreams, so he naturally respected that.

On the screen, Shang Mu had already taken three mustard capsules and swallowed them with warm water. He relaxed on the sofa, chatting with the commentators.

"The rose on the anchor's mask is so beautiful. Does the anchor like roses?"

Shang Mu said nonchalantly: "Rose is my favorite flower."

"The anchor has such fair skin and beautiful collarbones. I want to sleep on her collarbone!"

"The anchor is so hardworking, he actually worked overtime! He used to broadcast once a week, but this time he actually came early!!! Sending rockets to the anchor!!"

"No reaction after taking three? Host, give me two more."

Seeing this, Zhou Wangchuan immediately posted a comment: "Stop eating. Playing is fun, but your health is the most important thing."

His comment floated across the screen with a golden crown on top, which was very eye-catching.

Shang Mu said, "No. 1, you look a lot like someone I know."

At this time, his voice was lower and lighter than when he started the show. He pressed his abdomen inconspicuously with his palm, then pulled the pillow next to him and hugged it in his arms.

Zhou Wangchuan was about to type, but Shang Mu had already started chatting with other people on the forum.

After a few words, Zhou Wangchuan was sure that Shang Mu was in a bad mood.

He thought for a moment, logged into the livestreaming room with his tablet, and called on his phone. He thought Shang Mu wouldn't answer, but after just two rings, a lazy voice rang from the other end: "Hello?"

Zhou Wangchuan asked, "Have you eaten yet?"

"I don't want to eat."

"Are you in a bad mood?" Zhou Wangchuan guessed the reason for his bad mood. "Have you been wronged at work? Tell me and I'll solve it."

This wasn't an exaggeration. Zhou Wangchuan was a wealthy second-generation, his family well-connected across various industries; otherwise, he wouldn't have spent hundreds of thousands of yuan on gifts.

Shang Mu's voice became softer: "No."

Zhou Wangchuan stared at the tablet screen—Shang Mu hadn't turned off his microphone, speaking to him in front of everyone in the livestream. He expected him to hang up impatiently, but that didn't seem to happen. Shang Mu even relaxed a bit, slumped back in the sofa, his fingertips tapping gently on the pillow.

"Just now, while doing rounds in the inpatient department, I ran into a colleague from the respiratory department who told me a joke," Zhou Wangchuan said. "He admitted a patient who needed strict isolation and told him he could only eat pancakes. The patient asked if pancakes could cure his illness. He said no, because only pancakes could fit under the door."

It was a very cold joke, Shang Mu laughed twice out of courtesy.

Zhou Wangchuan thought that he had just taken three mustard capsules and was probably feeling uncomfortable, so he said, "Are you tired from working today? Go to bed early."

Shang Mu hummed perfunctorily.

"But you have to have some dinner first." Zhou Wangchuan said, "Give me the address and I'll order food for you."

Shang Mu cooperated and sent the address over.

After ordering the takeaway, Zhou Wangchuan was surprised to find that Shang Mu actually went on the live broadcast obediently.

Twenty minutes later, when the APP showed that the takeaway had been delivered, Zhou Wangchuan called again. He was even more surprised when he heard that Shang Mu was eating.

He couldn't help but said softly, "Why are you so obedient?"

"...Hmm?" Shang Mu was drinking his porridge slowly, and asked questions from his throat.

"Nothing, take your time eating." Zhou Wangchuan said, "Remember to send me your flight number in advance. I'll pick you up at the airport or at the beach."

"Need not."

Zhou Wangchuan heard his voice and noticed that he was in a better mood, so he joked, "Were you in a bad mood because you were hungry?"

"I'm not in a bad mood." Shang Mu finished his porridge and said, "I'm going to sleep."

"OK."

Zhou Wangchuan was afraid he'd be goaded into taking mustard capsules by the people in the livestream. To his surprise, he not only obediently ended the broadcast, ate his meal, and even went to bed early. He didn't look like his usual aggressive self at all; he was practically the sun rising from the west.

Even when he drove back home, Zhou Wangchuan still felt it was unreal. After enduring it for a long time, he sent a message: Baby, you are so good.

Shang Mu replied with a cat head with a question mark on it.

Zhou Wangchuan replied: Good night, junior brother.

He was so well behaved that he reminded him of the well-behaved junior he first met more than six years ago.