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It’s a good experience, and a great challenge, to play a character like Han Ye who suffers a lot, who goes from happy and carefree to troubled and restrained. In the past, before Gong Jun learned to immerse himself so fully into a character while acting, it wouldn’t have been so difficult, but he also wouldn’t have done it as well. Now, he throws himself wholeheartedly into the role and, he hopes, convincingly shows all of Han Ye’s repressed but complicated emotions. Unfortunately, that also means that the emotions touch him more deeply, and it’s harder to shake them off at the end of a scene, or even at the end of the day.
At work, he keeps those struggles to himself as much as he can. It’s something most actors deal with, so there’s no reason to make a fuss about it. Besides, he’s someone who’s always (almost always, he mentally corrects himself) tried to maintain a professional distance at work, being friendly but keeping his struggles and the bad parts of his personality as hidden as he can. He doesn’t want to make things difficult for the people he works with—and he doesn’t want to show those parts of himself to just anyone.
He can’t help thinking sometimes of a different set last year. Wen Kexing was also a character who suffered a lot, a character whose pain sometimes weighed him down, and sometimes weighed Gong Jun down too. But off camera, on the days they filmed together (which was more often than not), Zhehan could be counted on to cheer him up with jokes and teasing—or occasionally to simply be sad with him, so he wasn’t alone in his feelings. And not only did he do that, but Gong Jun let him, because he trusted Zhehan, and more so because he couldn’t keep a professional distance from him if he tried. (He didn’t try for very long at all.)
It’s not that he doesn’t like the people he works with on the set of An Le Zhuan, his fellow actors or the crew. They’re decent people who work hard. But no one he’s met on any filming set before or since is like Zhang Zhehan. More accurately, no one he’s met on any other set is like Zhang Zhehan is to him, nor will anyone else ever will be. And so he keeps his walls up at work—not too high, but enough—however hard things feel some days.
Even on a day like today, full of particularly emotional scenes on top of several previous days of Han Ye suffering, he does his best to not drag anyone down. He smiles charmingly when the makeup artist tells him he looks tired and insists he’s fine when the director asks if he’s okay, if he needs a break. He knows his limits and he knows that he can push through this, difficult though it might be. He can push through most things, if he has to. Everyone around him knows that too, and so they take him at his word that he’s fine and leave him be.
That’s what he wants, but by the end of the day, he’s exhausted and ready to be anywhere but here, to be back in the apartment that passes for home these days, where he doesn’t have to keep pretending to be fine. He nearly falls asleep on the ride over, but he can’t quite manage it, distracted by the kind of vague brooding that comes with being caught up in emotions that aren’t really your own, with being sad about things that never happened in reality but hurt all the same.
He opens the apartment door to the sound of the TV, but it goes silent almost immediately. Gong Jun keeps his eyes down as he takes his shoes off and sets down his bag, trying to push that brooding out of his mind. When he does look up, Zhehan is standing in front of him, a gently knowing smile already on his face. “You okay?”
This time, Gong Jun doesn’t say he’s fine. He doesn’t have to, not with Zhehan, and he doesn’t want to. “Han Ye’s life is hard,” he says with a sad little laugh, stepping out of the entranceway. Zhehan laughs too, even as he wraps his arms around Gong Jun. For a long moment, they stay like that, Gong Jun breathing deeply and feeling Zhehan’s chest move with his. It grounds him, reminds him that reality—though it has its own difficulties—is better than fiction, and that he lives here in that reality.
Once he feels a little steadier, he pulls out of Zhehan’s hold and flashes him a small smile. If it were anyone else, he might feel self-conscious, but he doesn’t mind letting Zhehan see. He knows (and how amazing it still feels to know that) that Zhehan won’t judge him for his moments of weakness, won’t take advantage of them, and in fact will love him that much more for them, aware of what it means that Gong Jun is willing to let him see them. And the same is true in reverse, even if Gong Jun can be a little clumsier about showing it.
“You had a rough couple of days, huh?” Zhehan’s smile is much brighter and more sure than his.
Gong Jun answers with a shrug and a wry smile. It’s been a rough couple of months, in truth, on and off set. Maybe that’s why it’s harder to let go some days, when the suffering of his character feels too close to reality, not even in any specific ways, but in the unfairness of it. But he doesn’t want to dwell on that, so he tries to shake it off. “What were you watching?”
“Basketball. Not your favorite, I know. We can watch something else.”
“It’s okay. I’ll watch with you. I might fall asleep anyway.”
“Go wash your face first then.” Zhehan gives him nudge with his hip.
“Yes, mom.”
“That’s laopo to you,” Zhehan teases. Gong Jun rolls his eyes fondly and goes without further comment.
When he comes back, Zhehan is in front of the TV again, excitedly watching his basketball. Even if he was equally excited about it, Gong Jun is too tired to pay much attention, but he’s happy to sit down next to Zhehan, who instantly curls into his side. Gong Jun wraps an arm around his back and enjoys the comforting warmth of Zhehan’s body against his, and the little gasps that escape him despite him valiantly trying not to bother Gong Jun. “Who are we rooting for?” Gong Jun asks sleepily.
“The ones in yellow.” Zhehan doesn’t bother with team names.
“Go, yellow!” Gong Jun mumbles.
Zhehan laughs, even as he snuggles closer to Gong Jun. “Lie down,” he says.
Gong Jun does just that, stretching out on the couch. It’s small enough that his feet go over the edge and Zhehan has to lie more on top of him than not, but that’s okay. That’s comforting too, just what he needs to relax that much more, to let go of the heaviness of the emotions he’s been carrying around all day and even some of the bigger ones that have been hanging over him for too long now. “You’re good,” he tells Zhehan, the words coming out full of affection. You’re good at knowing what I need, he means, and how to give it to me.
“I am.” Zhehan chuckles against his shoulder. “And you’re not so bad yourself.”
“No?”
“Okay, okay, you’re great.” Another muffled laugh. Zhehan can’t quite reach Gong Jun’s mouth, but he presses a kiss to the corner of his lips. “Get some rest. Tomorrow will be better.”
Without any reason, Gong Jun believes him. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his eyes drifting closed, and everything melts away.