BEIJING, Grand Lotus Film Studio
It was just another cloudy afternoon in Beijing until it wasn't.
Liang Yue stood at the far corner of the Grand Lotus Film Studio, quietly sorting makeup brushes after finishing work with a supporting cast. She had no intention of getting involved with the A-lister. That world was too loud. Too fake. Too far from hers.
Suddenly, the air around her shifted. A flurry of footsteps, voices rising.
"Emergency, his artist collapsed!"
"We can't delay the shoot. Jin's on set in ten!"
And then- "You. What's your name?"
Liang Yue turned, startled.
"I'm Yue," she said softly.
"You've worked on male actors before?"
"Yes."
"The you're on Jin. Now."
Inside the private prep room, Jin stood shirtless beneath warm lighting, scrolling silently through his phone. China's most sought-after actor, renowned for his stoic roles, unreadable gaze, and perfect control.
When Liang Yue walked in, their eyes met, and everything paused.
Jin slowly lowered his phone, but his expression remained still.
She didn't gasp. She didn't shudder. She simply gave him a polite nod and opened her makeup kit.
The makeup room was quiet. The kind of quiet that felt intentional, like the world itself has stepped outside and closed the door behind it.
Liang Yue stood before him, her brush in hand. Jin sat in the chair, eyes closed, the soft glow of the mirror lights framing his face like something from a painting.
HE DIDN'T SPEAK.
SHE DIDN'T ASK HIM TO.
Yue's hand moved gently, dabbing a touch of concealer, smoothing foundation, brushing stray powder from beneath his eyes. Every motion was precise. Controlled. But inside?
Her heartbeat was anything but.
Each stroke of the brush felt too intimate, not in a physical way, but emotional. Spiritual. As though her fingertips could read the stories hidden beneath his skin.
He wasn't just handsome.
He was... quiet. Still.
Not the arrogant superstar she expected.
Just a man with tired eyes and lips that almost looked sad when he wasn't acting.
And he let her in--- without a single word.
Jin didn't open his eyes. He could feel her breath on his collarbone, feather-light. He occasionally could hear the tiny click of her product case. The smell of faint scent of rose water on her hands.
"Why does this feel like more than makeup?"
There was nothing flirtatious—no exaggerated gestures. Just a woman doing her job with care, and yet, he felt something slipping through the cracks of his chest.
A soft ache.
An unspoken pull.
Yue stepped back slightly, taking in her work. It was perfect. Of course it was.
But her chest felt tight.
"This doesn't belong to me."
"He doesn't belong in my world."
She could already feel the goodbye before he even stood up. Then, without opening his eyes, he asked softly:
"May I have your WeChat?"
The air changed.
Her breath caught. She froze for just a second, long enough for him to notice. Her fingers curled around the edge of her brush.
She wanted to say no.
She wanted to keep this moment pure, undisturbed by real-world consequences or the cruel game of expectations.
But something in his voice was honest. Not charming. Not demanding. Just....real.
"Alright," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
She handed him her phone. He entered his ID, smiled faintly, and passed it back without a word.
He walked away soon after.
No promise. No flirtation. No goodbye hug or lingering touch.
Just a single glance over his shoulder—eyes unreadable, but softer than before.
The door clicked shut softly behind him, but the stillness he left behind lingered like perfume in the air.
She looked down at the phone in her hand, still warm from his touch. Still tingling with the echo of a moment she hadn't dared to hope for. She tapped the screen, fingers trembling in a way her hands never did while working.
WeChat ID: Jin Ran
Curious, and almost against her better judgement, she tapped on his profile. The image loaded slowly, like fate itself was holding its breath.
And there it was.
A photo of the moonlight reflected on a quiet lake, silver and glossy, stretching into darkness.
For a heartbeat, Liang Yue forgot to breathe.
Because in Chinese, her name Yue meant moonlight.
Not just by meaning, but in ancient poetry, moonlight often symbolized the kind of beauty that couldn't be touched. Something distant, eternal, and quietly unforgettable.
Her lips parted slightly.
COINCIDENCE?
Perhaps.
But for a girl who had always believed in staying invisible, the idea that a man like him, so unreachable, so far from her world, had chosen that as his image.
It made the air feel thinner somehow.
Her thumb hovered over the message button. She didn't press it.
Not yet.
She locked the screen and placed the phone quietly in her bag.
A small smile ghosted across her lips, soft and unsure.
"Maybe it was nothing.
Maybe it was everything.
But for now.... it would stay suspended like moonlight on water."
She didn't expect more.
She didn't ask for less.
All she knew was this:
Their meeting felt too quiet to be real.
Too fleeting to hold.
And too perfect to be planned.
BUT FATE?
FATE WAS JUST GETTING STARTED!