Fake Dating My Rival at the Awards novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: Forty-One Million
A clip of Tang Mo's smile cracking hits forty-one million views, and two managers dare him and Shen Yichen into ninety days of fake dating; the first kiss is a test, and the rating is "adequate".
Forty-one million people had watched Tang Mo's smile crack, and now he had to watch it again.
The clip played on the wall screen of the Hengyue meeting room, thirty-one floors above Shanghai.
It was barely long enough for two sentences.
On screen, Tang said, "You could try smiling, Teacher Shen. It's free."
On screen, Shen Yichen said, "Stop smiling when nothing's funny. It's a bad habit."
Then Tang's mouth stayed up and his eyes did not, for one long moment, and the clip looped.
"Look at that," said Qiu Zhan, Tang's manager, tapping the table. "Forty-one million. The comments say you two have chemistry."
"The comments say I'm about to cry," said Tang. "Same thing."
Shen Yichen sat at the far end of the table with his arms folded and watched the screen without moving his face.
He was thirty, the favourite for every prize this winter, and he had not looked at Tang once since the elevator.
Cheng Ping, his manager, set down her tea.
She was forty-six, dry as paper, and nobody in Hengyue Pictures had ever seen her lose an argument.
"The Silver Crane broadcast called me this morning," she said.
"You're both up for Performer of the Year, with Ji Wanqing, the actress nominated for the same prize. They want a story for the night."
"What kind of story?" asked Tang.
"The kind forty-one million people already want," said Qiu. "You two. Together."
Tang laughed, because laughing was what he did when a room turned dangerous.
"Brother Zhan, he'd sooner die."
"Ninety days," said Cheng Ping. "From today until awards night. You're a couple in public. Both agencies agreed."
"I did not agree," said Shen.
It was the first thing he had said since he sat down, and it landed flat on the table.
Qiu leaned back and smiled at him.
"I told Ping he'd say that."
"Then you were right."
"I also told her Tang would last a week," said Qiu, "and you'd bolt in a day. She bet me you wouldn't."
Cheng Ping lifted one shoulder.
"Dinner says he lasts longer than you think."
Tang felt the old bright switch go on inside him.
It said a stage had been built and he had been invited onto it.
He knew he should check the contract first.
He had been smiling at people who dared him since he was nineteen.
"A week," he said. "He thinks I'd last a week?"
"I think you'd last until he said something cruel," said Qiu, and held up his phone.
"For the contract file, boys. On video. Say yes or say no."
Shen turned his head and looked at Tang for the first time.
His eyes were dark and steady, and in fourteen months of shared sets and press rooms Tang had never worked out what was behind them.
"There are terms," said Shen.
"Mine too," said Tang. "Say yes first, Teacher Shen. I'll wait."
"Yes. With terms."
"Yes," said Tang, and Qiu's phone caught both of them.
Cheng Ping stood.
"Work out your terms. Fifteen minutes. We'll be in the corridor."
She shut the glass door behind her, and Qiu's laugh followed her down the hall.
The room was suddenly very quiet.
Tang stood, went to the window wall, and put his back against the glass so that he could see Shen.
"Here's mine," he said. "In public I decide."
"I know where the lens is," said Tang. "I know which side you're good on, and you're bad on all of them."
"You follow me."
"Fine," said Shen.
"That was quick."
"You know the camera," said Shen. "I don't. I'm not proud about it."
He stood and came around the table.
"Mine is the opposite," said Shen. "Behind a door, you follow me."
"Why would I do that?" asked Tang.
"Because if you're going to lie to forty million people, I want to see your real face at least once a day."
He was close now.
He took Tang's wrist in his hand, and his thumb found the pulse and stayed there.
Tang kept his face exactly as it was, bright and easy and mild.
"Your face says nothing," said Shen. "This says something else."
"That's a pulse, Teacher Shen," said Tang. "Everyone has one."
"Yours is fast," said Shen.
"It's the coffee," said Tang.
"You haven't had any," said Shen.
Tang opened his mouth to say something quick and nothing came.
Shen's other hand came up and tilted his chin.
Tang's body did what it always did and found the angle.
Left cheek a little forward, chin down, mouth soft for a lens that was not there.
"No," said Shen, very low. "There's no camera. Don't angle."
Tang stopped.
The glass was cold against his shoulder blades.
The floor outside was full of Hengyue staff, and every one of them could have looked up.
Shen kissed him.
It was not gentle, and it did not ask.
It was a hard, plain press of a mouth.
Under it Tang felt his whole careful face come undone, because nobody had ever told him to stop performing and meant it.
His hand closed in Shen's shirt.
He kissed back.
When Shen drew away, they were both breathing a little unevenly, and Shen's expression had not changed at all.
"Adequate," he said.
Tang stared at him.
"Adequate."
"Don't take it badly. I rate everything that way."
Tang was still working out whether to laugh or shove him into the table when the glass door opened.
Cheng Ping stood in it with her phone out.
"Terms done?" she said. "Good. Dinner is at eight. The photographer has been told you'll leave at ten."
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