Noah cried himself to sleep.
It was a restless sleep.
The dream came without warning.
A beach at night, moonlight like water.
Noah stood in waist-deep seawater, waves gently lapping against his body, bringing waves of coolness. He gazed at the blurred horizon in the distance, unsure why he was there.
Warmth suddenly approached from behind.
Arms encircled his waist from behind not too tight, not too loose yet carrying an ineffable possessiveness.
"The water's cold." Asher's voice sounded low by his ear, tinged with amusement, warm breath washing over the side of his neck.
Before Noah could react, he was pulled deeper into the water.
Seawater rose past his chest. Moonlight shattered on the waves.
Asher's hand pressed against his waist, fingertips tightening slightly. Noah wanted to push him away, but his body disobeyed, leaning closer as if bewitched.
Under the moonlight, Asher's face was close.
Those eyes watched him, deep as the ocean, yet revealing an unprecedented tenderness.
Then Asher lowered his head and kissed him.
Noah didn't resist.
Even... responded.
Seawater enveloped them, moonlight shrouding everything. In that moment, Noah felt an unprecedented calm and happiness, as if only the two of them existed in the world, all troubles vanished.
He almost drowned in it...
---
Onyx Holdings headquarters.
The board meeting had just ended.
Asher walked out of the conference room, his assistant following behind.
"How's the integration of the film companies we acquired last month?"
"Basically complete. The personnel structure has been adjusted, and several core projects are proceeding as planned."
"Send me the financial statements."
"Understood."
The elevator went directly to the underground parking garage.
A black Rolls-Royce left the headquarters building.
Asher sat in the back seat, reviewing documents on his tablet. His assistant reported the day's schedule from the passenger seat.
"2 PM, meeting with CEO Renur from Huatai Real Estate about developing that south district plot. 3:30, quarterly financial report meeting for the media division. 5 PM, you need to review the restructuring plan for the newly acquired theater chain."
The assistant paused. "Also, several more people want to meet with you privately. Same old story hoping you'll... side with them."
Asher looked out at the rapidly retreating streetscape.
"Tell them I'm considering it." A barely perceptible smile curved his lips. "Since they love acting so much, let's play along nicely."
The assistant understood and nodded.
The car stopped at a red light.
Asher set down the tablet and looked up. "By the way, has the schedule been cleared for Desire Kiss?"
"Already cleared." The assistant answered immediately. "As per your instructions, all events that could be postponed during the next three months of filming have been canceled. Matters requiring your presence have been arranged as online meetings. The production team is also waiting for you to confirm the start date."
"Mm."
Asher asked again, "How is Noah doing?"
"The online backlash is still fermenting. His company gave him an ultimatum resolve it within three days or be blacklisted."
"And him?"
"Currently Mr. Noah hasn't made any moves. However, his former teammates wanted to clear his name online and posted several times, but the tech department intercepted it all."
Asher nodded.
He remembered that slap, and those eyes moist yet defiant.
So much smear content online, such pressure from the company, the role gone too.
Yet he still wouldn't come begging.
Quite stubborn.
Asher watched the scenery outside, a smile playing at his lips.
"Keep monitoring." His tone was indifferent. "Report any developments immediately."
"Understood."
The light turned green. The car continued forward.
---
Noah struggled at the edge of the dream for a long time before finally opening his eyes.
Outside the window, harsh midday sunlight.
His heartbeat hadn't settled, his body retaining the strange sensation the dream brought.
Seawater, moonlight, Asher's kiss.
Noah stared at the ceiling, throat tight.
How could he have that kind of dream?
He covered his face with his hands, breathing deeply several times. But those images lingered in his mind, clear as if they'd actually happened. Worse still, the moment he woke, he felt a brief instant of... loss.
Noah propped himself up, head splitting.
He walked to the kitchen and poured water, took a painkiller. His phone screen showed dozens of missed calls and unread messages, the red numbers particularly glaring.
He hadn't looked at these messages for days.
All his attention had been on refreshing news, reading comments, watching the smear campaign.
His teammates' concern, his parents' calls he hadn't responded to any.
Not that he didn't want to. He just didn't have the energy.
Noah took a deep breath and opened the messages.
First, his former teammates'.
[Are you okay? Everything online is made up, we all know you're not like that]
[We wanted to clear your name but couldn't post anything, kept getting suppressed, don't know why]
[What happened? We're really worried, please message us back]
[Noah, don't shoulder this alone, tell us if something's wrong]
Noah stared at those messages, throat tightening.
These people he'd met them during the hardest trainee days. Practicing dance together until midnight, fighting with everything they had for a debut spot.
Later they succeeded, formed a group, stood on stage.
But it didn't last. After the group disbanded, everyone scattered. Some became models, some returned to school, some left the entertainment industry entirely.
Only he kept persisting.
Noah typed a reply: [I'm fine, don't worry. Don't post anything either, I'll handle it. Thank you for always believing in me]
After sending the message, Noah leaned against the kitchen counter, breathing deeply several times.
Then he opened his mother's messages.
[Noah, are you okay? I saw everything online]
[Mom and Dad both believe you, you're not that kind of person, we know you too well]
[If it really doesn't work out, come home. What we said about not coming back crying was just talk, don't take it to heart]
[We don't want you suffering alone out there, you're still young, there will be more opportunities]
[Mom made your favorite seafood noodles, they'll be here whenever you come back]
The last message was sent at eleven that morning.
Noah read his mother's messages, eyes immediately reddening.
His phone vibrated.
His mother was calling.
Noah took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, then answered.
"Hello?"
"Noah!" His mother's voice carried obvious worry. "Are you okay? Why are you only answering now? Mom was so worried, kept thinking something happened to you..."
"I'm fine, Mom." Noah walked to the window, looking at the street below. "Just... really tired, slept a bit longer."
"Who are you fooling? I haven't been able to reach you for over a week." His mother's voice caught. "Those things online..."
"Mom, I'm really fine. All of that's fake. I'll handle it."
"If it really doesn't work, come home. Don't suffer there anymore. Your dad and I don't care about careers or whatever, we just want you to be okay..."
"Mom." Noah interrupted her, voice trembling. "I don't want to go back. I don't want to just give up like this, don't want all that effort to be for nothing. I really... really don't want to admit defeat."
As soon as he finished speaking, tears fell uncontrollably.
Noah bit his lip hard, not letting himself make a sound. His shoulders trembled slightly.
"Noah, are you crying?"
"...No." Noah inhaled deeply, trying to make his voice sound normal. "Give me some time, I'll handle it. Trust me, Mom. I'm not a kid anymore, I know what I'm doing."
His mother was silent for several seconds, then sighed deeply.
"Alright. Mom believes you." Her voice was soft, full of heartache. "But if you really can't hold on, come home, okay? Your dad didn't sleep all night yesterday, kept refreshing news about you. He doesn't say it, but he's more worried than anyone."
Noah's tears fell harder.
"Yeah, I know." His voice was hoarse. "Tell Dad not to worry."
"You must eat properly, don't starve yourself. And don't stay up late, your health isn't good to begin with..."
His mother gave many more reminders. Noah agreed to them all.
After hanging up, Noah leaned against the wall and slowly slid to the floor.
The cold floor pressed against his skin. The living room was very quiet so quiet he could hear his own heartbeat, and the occasional sound of car horns from outside.
---
Noah sat on the floor for a long time, long enough for the sunlight outside to shift from one angle to another.
Then he stood up, step by step walking to the sofa and sitting down.
On the coffee table lay song lyrics he'd been working on. The trash can was stuffed with crumpled paper. On the wall hung a photo of him with his teammates in it he smiled brightly, eyes sparkling, teammates' arms around his shoulders, making victory signs.
Back then he thought that as long as he worked hard, he'd be rewarded.
But now?
If he gave up like this, all that online smear content would become established fact.
Fans would be disappointed. His parents would worry. His teammates would be sad.
He'd never stand on stage again, never act again.
All these years of effort, all the sweat and tears, would turn to nothing.
Noah picked up his phone, scrolled through his contacts, found Asher's assistant's number.
His finger hovered over the screen, trembling slightly.
Wasn't it just... being slept with?
Noah stared at the phone screen, slowly typing in the message box.
[I want to see Asher]
Five words, simple, yet using all his strength.
His finger stopped on the send button, hesitating for a long time.
The screen's light reflected on his face, illuminating his pale complexion and the dark circles under his eyes. Outside, the sky gradually darkened, the light in the room growing dimmer.
Then...
He pressed down.
The message was sent.
Noah stared at the screen, heart pounding like it might burst from his chest. Cold sweat seeped from his palms. He gripped the phone, knuckles white.
---
The assistant knocked and entered, holding a tablet.
"Sir, Mr. Noah has sent a message."
Asher was reviewing an investment proposal. Hearing this, his hand paused.
He looked up, gaze indifferent. "Speak."
The assistant glanced at the message on the tablet. "Mr. Noah sent me a message saying he wants to see you."
Asher didn't speak, just extended his hand.
The assistant understood and handed over the tablet.
On screen was Noah's message only five words: [I want to see Asher]
Asher stared at those five words for a long time.
The office was very quiet, only the low sound of the antique clock's pendulum echoing in the air.
The assistant stood to the side, not daring to interrupt. He watched Asher's profile, watched those usually calm and indifferent eyes now focused intently on the screen.
Then, a barely perceptible smile curved Asher's lips.
Very faint, very shallow, yet carrying a... expression the assistant had never seen before.
It wasn't the satisfaction of victory, wasn't the joy of triumph.
But a more complex emotion.
Excitement.
Like finally receiving something long anticipated.
Asher set the tablet on the desk and picked up his own phone.
"I'll reply myself," he said flatly.
The assistant nodded and tactfully withdrew, gently closing the door.
Noah had finally given in.
Asher stared at the phone screen, gaze deepening.
He'd experienced so much in his life. Verbal sparring at negotiation tables, intrigue in business, undercurrents within the family. He'd seen too many people surrender before him, seen too many abandon dignity for profit.
Those scenes had never stirred any ripples in him.
But now, seeing this message from Noah, he actually felt his heartbeat accelerate.
Asher's fingers glided lightly across the screen, opening the chat, beginning to type.
[Tomorrow evening, 6 PM]
Below, he attached an address.
The message sent. Asher stared at the "delivered" notification on screen and leaned back in his chair. He set the phone on the desk and closed his eyes.
Heat radiated in his chest.
This feeling was so unfamiliar it made him somewhat uncomfortable.
Asher opened his eyes, looking out at the city.
Tomorrow evening, 6 PM.
Noah would come.
He was certain.
And for the first time, he felt that waiting could also be enjoyable.
---
His phone vibrated. Noah opened the message.
Not the assistant's number. A strange number.
Noah gripped his phone tighter.
This should be... Asher, right?
Noah stared at that message, stared at that address, stared at the words "tomorrow evening, 6 PM."
He tossed his phone on the couch and lay down directly.
Outside, the sky went completely dark. Streetlights flickered on one by one.
The world seemed to operate normally, only he was trapped in this cramped space, surrounded by darkness, swallowed by despair.
Tomorrow evening, 6 PM.
One day left.
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to calm himself.
One last day to think it through clearly.