The lingering summer heat was slowly showing its teeth. The vicious sunlight was dazzling and scorching, turning in an instant into a fine, sticky sheen of sweat on pedestrians' skin.
Z City, Film and Television Town.
At the director's call of “Cut,” the little cub who had been lying by the roadside playing a corpse scrambled to his feet.
He got up so quickly that Lü Chacha's head spun, and before he could steady himself, he plopped right back down.
The production supervisor standing nearby let out an “Oh!” and hurried over to help the tiny little cub up.
“Chacha, sweetheart, be careful.”
The three- or four-year-old had fallen, but he neither cried nor fussed. He sat obediently on the ground, his round catlike eyes wide open; in the sunlight, his tea-crystal irises turned the palest translucent amber.
Like honey—bright, clear, and brimming with sweetness.
Lü Chacha curved his lovely eyes, and the corners of his lips rose with them. Like a cute, well-behaved little cake, he smiled soft and sweet.
“Thank you, Uncle Supervisor. I-I couldn't get up by myself. Daddy said—said I'm too little.”
The supervisor was thoroughly charmed. His heart melted as he reached out and vigorously ruffled Chacha's little head, rubbing until his hair stuck up all over.
“Chacha is such a good boy. Here, Uncle will give you a big red envelope to congratulate you on wrapping your part.”
Calling it a wrap was a bit of a stretch. Chacha's role in the drama was tiny, nothing more than a bit of background decoration.
But Chacha didn't understand any of that. He only knew that every day he came to the set with Daddy and lay down for a while, and then he could get a thick red envelope.
With the big red envelope tucked into his pocket, Chacha happily trotted into the shade beneath the eaves. His little face was flushed from the heat, and damp strands of hair clung to his forehead.
He found the spray bottle Daddy had packed in his little bag, closed his eyes, and gave his face a fierce spritz.
“Hiss—”
The little spray bottle, no bigger than an adult's palm, released a fine mist of water, bringing cool relief to Chacha, who had wilted beneath the sun like a plant after a long drought.
The bottle held nothing more than ordinary tap water, but to Chacha, water was the most important thing a tea plant needed to grow!
The temperature had been absurdly high lately. Chacha's cheeks had been baked hot, and his hair had grown especially fluffy under the sun, making him look like a little pale-golden bun fresh from the oven and still steaming.
With it this hot, would he get so sun-dried that he'd never grow leaves again?
Chacha couldn't help frowning in worry.
When Chacha dreamed, he had dreamed that in his previous life, he had been a small tea plant growing on the estate of a wealthy household.
It was a tea plantation that had been meticulously tended. Several hills had been enclosed for growing tea, and fresh green tea shrubs covered the mountains from top to bottom.
Every year during tea-picking season, large numbers of women workers would come to the estate with dark cloths wrapped around their heads and bamboo baskets on their backs or in their hands to pick the leaves.
After plucking, spreading, pan-firing, and a series of other processing steps, the tea leaves would ultimately become vastly more valuable Dragon Well tea and be presented as tribute to the reigning emperor.
Chacha, meanwhile, had been a tea seed accidentally left behind by the lake on the plantation.
The plantation's master thought Chacha had an extraordinary fate. Growing all by himself amid the glittering lake scenery, he was certain to become the finest of teas one day.
Overjoyed, the master decided to personally care for this newly sprouted little tea plant. Every day, he came to the lakeside to water and fertilize Chacha.
And in under three years, he successfully watered Chacha to death.
Chacha hadn't even managed to grow his very first crop of tea leaves!
He was supposed to be outstanding among teas. Once fully grown, he would surely have been wonderfully fragrant, richly green, and praised by everyone.
Who could have expected him to end up with such a miserable fate?
Thinking about it, Chacha sadly cupped his face in his hands and let out a tiny sigh.
Lü Rong, who had gone to the neighboring production to play a “corpse,” had also just finished work. He came hurrying over from the far end of the street.
Seeing Chacha sitting obediently on the roadside steps waiting for him, a gentle smile surfaced in Lü Rong's eyes.
“Chacha is such a good boy. You didn't run around after work. You knew to wait for Daddy to come back.”
Although the two productions were on the same street, one at either end, and Lü Rong could see Chacha playing a corpse on the other set whenever he looked up, there was still some distance between them, and Lü Rong had never quite been able to stop worrying.
At the sight of Daddy, Chacha instantly forgot his troubles and became happy again. His round eyes sparkled brightly as he showed Daddy the red envelope in his pocket.
“Daddy, Chacha got a big red envelope.” Chacha stretched out his little hands and gestured enthusiastically.
Lü Rong ruffled Chacha's messy hair. Seeing how red his little face had become under the sun, his heart went soft and sore.
“Chacha is amazing! The most amazing little kid there is.” Lü Rong lavished praise on him without reservation.
It was Chacha's first time being a human child, too. Daddy's praise made his whole face turn shy, and a moist sheen gathered in his tea-colored eyes.
“I'm not ama'ing. I haven't even grown pretty leaves.”
Only when Chacha grew emerald-green tea leaves would he become the very, very best little tea plant!
Lü Rong knew his child liked to say odd things—about watering and growing leaves and the like.
He never took it seriously, assuming it was simply a child's fantastical imagination at work.
Lü Rong was the kind of parent who never spoiled a child's fun. His expression was gentle, and the tea-crystal eyes so similar to Chacha's overflowed with endless warmth.
“All right. Chacha will definitely grow beautiful leaves.”
Lü Rong had spent the past few years raising Chacha alone, and all his savings had long since been exhausted. It was only recently that he had started acting again to earn money.
Five years ago, Lü Rong had enjoyed a brief period of modest popularity in the entertainment industry.
His acting had been vivid and natural, and he was extraordinarily beautiful. His facial lines were soft, and his pale tea-colored eyes seemed to hold flowing starlight, impossibly gentle.
Unfortunately, Lü Rong's debut had also been his peak. Overnight, all kinds of baseless scandals about him exploded into public view, after which his agency blacklisted and shelved him for four or five years.
Only recently, when Lü Rong's contract with the agency expired automatically, had he finally been able to return to the entertainment industry and find work for himself.
But times had changed. There was no longer any place for Lü Rong in the industry.
All his old fans were gone. He could only rely on former connections to scrape by playing minor roles in small productions.
Yet although Lü Rong lived in poverty and was often strapped for cash, whenever he looked at his sweet, well-behaved Chacha, all that remained in his heart was boundless gratitude.
Thank heaven for giving him the most precious gift of all—a gift named Chacha!
Chacha sat on the steps, lightly swinging his little feet. He leaned his small head against Daddy's bigger one and eagerly opened the red envelope, happily counting the money inside.
Under the dazzling, scorching sunlight, the earth seemed to blur beneath a wash of brightness, making everything indistinct.
The happiness of father and son evidently stabbed straight into Gu Huaizheng, who had come to the set to discuss investment matters with the director.
Gu Huaizheng stared at the person who had vanished from his life for four full years. His fingers clenched violently, knuckles whitening and veins standing out across the backs of his hands.
He had never imagined that a passing whim to come inspect the production in person would lead him to run into Lü Rong by such sheer coincidence!
Even less had he expected that Lü Rong already had a child!
Then what did all the intimate moments and whispered declarations they had shared in the past amount to?
Did Lü Rong no longer care about the feelings between them?
He had let go so decisively! And the child was already this big?!
So in the end, was he the only ridiculous clown still trapped in those feelings, unable to move on?!
Gu Huaizheng's heart felt as if it had been cut open by a knife. Though the weather was blazing hot, his body felt as if it had fallen into an ice cellar. Staring at Lü Rong's familiar face, he was filled with nothing but pain.
The secretary beside him saw President Gu's pale complexion and, not understanding why, hurried forward to comfort him solicitously.
“President Gu, is it too hot? Why do you look so unwell? Let's find somewhere to rest first.”
Gu Huaizheng was in such pain that his ears rang for a moment. Unable to make out what anyone around him was saying, he pressed his thin lips tight and raised a hand to stop his secretary's noisy concern.
“I'm fine. Let's go.”
The group hurried past the entrance to the street without causing much of a stir.
***
Father and son lived on the fifth floor of an old apartment building with no elevator, so every day they had to climb up and down on foot.
Chacha's legs were short, and whenever he climbed stairs, he instinctively leaned backward, as if he truly were a stiff little tea plant that had no idea how to climb steps.
The sight made Lü Rong's heart jump. After two alarmed exclamations, he hurried forward and scooped Chacha into his arms.
“Chacha is still little. You don't have to force yourself to climb the stairs. Daddy can carry Chacha upstairs.”
Chacha let out an exhausted breath and wrapped his arms around Daddy's neck, pressing against Daddy's fair neck. A fine layer of sweat had formed on his soft, chubby cheeks from the heat.
“Daddy, there's so much water on my face.” Chacha seemed to have made a major discovery. He lifted his head, eyes full of wonder.
Even more than when he sprayed himself with his little spray bottle!
Lü Rong burst out laughing and explained with smiling eyes,
“That's not water. Chacha is too hot, so you're sweating.”
Chacha didn't understand. His delicate brows scrunched into a caterpillar. He raised a little hand to touch his head and came away with a palmful of sticky, hot sweat.
“It is water. It's hot water!”
Chacha couldn't help feeling distressed. In a dejected voice, he said,
“Could Chacha not be a tea plant? Am I a spray bottle instead?”
How else was so much water coming out all by itself? And it was hot, too?!
Lü Rong didn't catch what Chacha said. Carrying him, he climbed all five floors in one go, breathing steadily and not tired in the least.
Despite Lü Rong's frail, gentle appearance—delicate enough to seem as if he could be knocked over by a touch, like a dodder vine that had to cling to something else to survive—
in reality, Lü Rong had been born exceptionally strong. Carrying roughly one hundred to one hundred and fifty kilograms up five flights of stairs was easy for him, and he would barely even be out of breath.
Lü Rong set Chacha down, opened the door, and went inside in high spirits to cook.
The minor role Lü Rong had been playing wrapped today, and he had received the last portion of his pay. With money in hand, he had deliberately bought several kilograms of pork ribs to celebrate.
Chacha, meanwhile, hurried straight to the bathroom the moment they got home.
Standing on a small stool, he faced the mirror and stared at the crystalline beads of sweat on his head, distressed yet fascinated.
Was it because for the past few days Chacha had made Daddy fill his little spray bottle all the way with water, then kept “watering” his head on set, so now something had gone wrong from overwatering?
Chacha looked at his slightly wilted hair and realized his pale tea-colored strands had lost their former luster and grown much duller.
Who knew what thoughts ran through his little head, but his round eyes suddenly filled with huge tears as he sank into grief over the possibility that all his leaves were about to fall off.
That was how it had happened in his last life, after all. Chacha had been watered and watered, and all the leaves he had just grown had fallen off overnight!
He had become a bare, ugly little tea plant, sob—