Capturing My Demon King Costar

MY COSTAR GOES HOME WITH ME

Yao Shen's tension grows as the familiar landscape speeds by through the bullet train's windows.

Xin Hulei told them he could bring them here, but Yao Shen declined, saying the train ride would help him get his thoughts in order before he saw his father.

He hadn't been back in his hometown in almost five years. Speaking honestly, he never expected to return.

But the train pulls into the dilapidated station and Yao Shen is officially back.

Only a thin trickle of people leave the train at this stop, and none of them spare Yao Shen and Xin Hulei a single glance.

They're trying to be inconspicuous, with twin bucket hats shoved deep into their heads, and wearing the kind of clothes people usually associate with backpackers.

Yao Shen is almost dizzy with trepidation, as he makes his way through the familiar cobbled streets, the spaces between the ancient cut stones overgrown with weeds and wildflowers.

In no time at all, his muscle memory takes him to the wooden door of the squat, raw cement house he called home for the better part of his life.

Somehow, it doesn't look as dismal as Yao Shen remembers it.

Then again, his misery never had much to do with the outside of the house.

Seeing the apprehension notched into the lines of his face, Xin Hulei raises his fist and knocks on the door himself -- relieving Yao Shen of the task.

There's some noise inside the house, like furniture dragging, and then the door wrenches open.

The familiar, lined face of Yao Shen's father squints up at them, unused to the brightness of the day.

"Oh, it's you," he says, after he recognises Yao Shen.

He goes back into the house but leaves the door open. It's as much of an invitation as they're ever going to get.

---

Yao Shen leads Xin Hulei through the kitchen, and then to the living room, where the old tube TV is playing some sports program. Yao Shen's father sinks into the elderly couch in front of it without another word.

Yao Shen takes a seat on the armchair opposite, while Xin Hulei stands behind him.

"How have you been, dad?" Yao Shen asks, trying to keep his tone even.

Old Yao grumbles something under his breath, and then reaches across to get another beer. The inside of the house looks much worse than Yao Shen remembers -- dirtier, now that Yao Shen isn't around to clean.

He feels a pang of guilt at that. For a long time he barely had money for himself, but maybe he should have sent some back so his father could hire someone to clean -- no. He cuts that thought short before it can take hold. His father is a healthy man, he can clean after himself. Always could.

And for long a time he looked after Yao Shen too -- maybe not in the best way, maybe not in a way that a loving father should, but he did.

Maybe there will always be a conflict inside Yao Shen about how to feel regarding his father's faults.

He clears his throat. "I don't know if you've heard, but...I just wrapped up shooting a drama."

There's a beat of silence, and then his father rubs the back of his wrist across his nose. "Yeah, I heard something about that."

Yao Shen looks up at Xin Hulei, there's a sour pool of anxiety building up inside his stomach, and he doesn't know how to proceed.

The reassuring look in Xin Hulei's steady eyes, and the hand he places on his shoulder give Yao Shen the strength he needs to go on.