Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 63

When Lu Yiyao woke up, his head ached a bit. He remembered only drinking a few glasses the previous night, and, despite his low tolerance, that shouldn’t have knocked him out. The only explanation must be the so-called special cocktail recommended by Huo Yuntao, which, despite its sweet taste, packed a surprisingly strong punch.

The “person” in his arms was soft and plushy, not quite warm enough, leaving him with a sensation of holding more than enough but without the desired warmth…

Huh?

Lu Yiyao felt something amiss and slowly opened his half-closed, peach blossom eyes. The expected clean face vanished like an illusion, leaving him embracing a clean… blanket.

Maintaining his side-lying position atop the blanket, it took him two minutes to piece together last night’s memories. A few drinks shouldn’t have made him black out, so he vividly remembered being carried away by Huo Yuntao—which was half-true. He was indeed tipsy, but not so drunk that he couldn’t walk. But Huo Yuntao claimed that only if he was drunk could Ran Lin come to the room to take care of him, setting the stage for what was to follow. He had vehemently criticized his friend’s devious plan, then decided to fully cooperate.

So when Ran Lin came in, he was awake—in fact, waiting for that moment.

But how did it go from a storm to a gentle breeze?

After thinking it over, Lu Yiyao still felt Ran Lin should take the blame—because holding him quietly was just too comfortable.

Comfortable enough to make one relax completely, lower all defenses, willing to share everything, open up entirely, and just quietly hold him and talk until the end of time… which, unfortunately, didn’t happen!

Lu Yiyao hugged the corner of the blanket and rolled back and forth, still unsatisfied, eventually grabbing the blanket over his head and letting out a muffled but forceful roar—

“Lu Yiyao, you’re useless!!!”

When Huo Yuntao called, Teacher Lu had calmed down and was despondently brushing his teeth in the bathroom.

The man in the mirror looked lifeless, his complexion ashen, and the toothbrush moved lifelessly over his teeth. The white toothpaste foam was the only vibrant part of the scene, bubbling up as if dancing on his teeth.

“Uh…”

The first sound through the phone startled Huo Yuntao.

He knew Ran Lin had work in the morning, so he figured only his old friend would be left in the room, still immersed in the aftermath, ready to call and gossip + take credit.

But the voice on the other end didn’t sound like a man who had just enjoyed a passionate night.

“Not awake yet?” Huo Yuntao could only think of this reason.

Lu Yiyao spat out the toothpaste foam, rinsed his mouth, then spoke to the phone on speaker placed beside him, lifelessly. “Brushing my teeth.”

Huo Yuntao, sensing something off in his friend’s voice and believing he understood the truth, immediately teased, “You’re not up for it, huh? One night and you’re already spent?”

Lu Yiyao froze as if he heard a “thud”, the sound of a knife plunging into his heart.

“How could that be?” Lu Yiyao put down the cup and picked up the phone, shaking off his earlier dismay. “I was thinking about things.”

“Stop pretending.” Huo Yuntao’s scoff came through the phone. “Just admit you’re reminiscing.”

Thud, thud.

Two more stabs.

Lu Yiyao pretended not to hear the sound of his breaking heart. “Anything else?”

“Hey, is this how you treat a brother who’s worried sick about you?” Huo Yuntao sounded incredulously hurt. “There’s no true friendship in this world anymore…”

“I’m sorry.” Lu Yiyao rarely apologized to Huo Yuntao, but willing to sacrifice for a quick end to the call. “You arranged everything very thoughtfully, considerately, and touchingly.”

Huo Yuntao chuckled, triumphant, like a flag fluttering in the wind. “Of course. My buddy’s finally growing up. I had to make sure everything was perfect; even then, I was worried you wouldn’t make it. My heart hung all night. Finally it can rest.”

Thud, thud, thud, thud—

“Huh? Hong Jie’s calling me. Might be something important. Gotta go.”

“Wait, wait, when you leave, I need to go help you check out…”

Click.

The phone screen returned to the home screen.

Lu Yiyao sighed deeply, silently pulling out the imaginary knives from his chest and applying countless band-aids, barely stopping the bleeding.

Life, indeed, is too hard.

……

Ran Lin returned to his apartment before dawn.

He took a shower and then went to bed for a brief sleep until the alarm he set went off, then quickly got up, washed his face, brushed his teeth, and changed into clean clothes.

While brushing his teeth, Ran Lin carefully observed himself in the mirror, initially worried about signs of a sleepless night, but later, realizing that apart from mild dark circles, nothing else was noticeable, his thoughts drifted to Lu Yiyao, left alone in the hotel.

Imagining Lu Yiyao’s state upon waking up, Ran Lin thought he would probably be clutching the blanket in frustration.

Looking at his own reflection covered in toothpaste foam, Ran Lin playfully thought, perhaps at this very moment, Lu Yiyao was also morosely brushing his teeth in front of a mirror?

In late June, the sun hangs early in the sky, already showing signs of scorching heat, but the mornings and evenings are still cool. As soon as Ran Lin left his apartment, he was recognized by several young women who also got up early for work. They surrounded him for autographs and photos.

With a bare face, Ran Lin was actually a bit nervous about the photos, but after the young women took them, they kindly showed him, which dispelled his worries. The photos, all more or less beautified, showed him with delicate skin and bright, large eyes, looking even better than if he had put on makeup.

Finding a taxi during the early morning hours was difficult, especially since Ran Lin purposely avoided crowded areas. So, after finally catching one, he began seriously considering buying his own car.

Last night, when they parted, Wang Xi had asked Liu Wanwan to pick him up in the morning, but he was worried about any special circumstances with Lu Yiyao and not having time to return home, thinking he might have to go directly from the hotel to the company early in the morning. This would surely give things away if Liu Wanwan came to pick him up, so he found an excuse not to arrange it that way.

Unexpectedly, he not only made it home but also had time for some extra sleep, which gave him really mixed feelings.

“Ran Ge!”

As soon as he entered the company, Ran Lin saw Liu Wanwan waiting at the reception, thoughtfully holding buns and soy milk in her hands.

“Good morning.” Ran Lin took the breakfast from her with a smile.

Liu Wanwan tilted her head, looking puzzled at him for a while, and asked, “Ran Ge, did you stay out late with friends yesterday?”

Ran Lin instinctively curved his index finger, touching just below his eyes. “Are my dark circles very noticeable?”

“A little.” Liu Wanwan nodded, but quickly changed the subject. “No worries, Ran Ge. Just go to the makeup room. I’ll let Xi Jie know you’ve arrived. Once you’re made up, she won’t notice a thing.”

“Clever girl,” Ran Lin praised, giving his assistant a nod, though he still felt it wasn’t quite right. “I should still go and greet Xi Jie. Now that I’m at the company, it wouldn’t be right not to see her, in case she has something to instruct.”

“No need,” Liu Wanwan said. “Han Ze is here today too. Xi Jie and him are both in the boss’ office, so she probably won’t come out for a while.”

“Han Ze?” Ran Lin frowned instinctively, feeling that nothing good ever came when this colleague’s name was mentioned. The filming for <Chronicles of Winter> was starting at the end of June, and Han Ze should be in the last stages of preparation. Ran Lin couldn’t think of anything that would require his attention at this time.

“And they’re in the boss’ office?” Ran Lin finally caught the main point.

“Yep. They’ve been in there since early this morning and haven’t come out yet,” Liu Wanwan said with a curious look.

Without saying more, Ran Lin had only a vague guess but nothing concrete. Being called in by the boss early in the morning could mean a significant issue like contracts or a tricky problem that needed direct consolation from the boss.

Thinking all this, before he realized, Ran Lin had followed Liu Wanwan into the makeup room. Shaking off his thoughts, he decided not to overthink and took a quick nap while the stylist worked.

The company recently hired a new executive director who initiated several comfort improvements for the staff, resulting in more plants and flowers around, including in the makeup room with lilies in a glass vase, which gave off a refreshing fragrance.

In this gentle scent, Ran Lin dreamed.

He was back at last night’s hotel, where after Li Yiyao told him about the estrangement with his father, he was turned over and pressed down. They tussled through the night until the morning sun came up with Lu Yiyao still holding him, insisting on canceling all his schedules…

Then, Ran Lin woke up startled, making the stylist quickly pull away the curling iron to avoid his face. He felt a surge of guilt seeing himself with half straight, half curly-haired in the mirror. He felt he had no conscience, dream worrying while thinking about delaying work.

“What dream did you have?” teased the stylist. As Ran Lin was about to speak, the makeup room door opened, and Wang Xi entered.

The agent, dressed in a professional yet charming skirt suit, was obviously well-prepared for the day’s signing. But her expression was strained. There was a forced smile on her face, especially her eyes, which lacked their usual brightness.

“Xi Jie,” Ran Lin greeted softly.

Wang Xi looked up, their eyes meeting in the mirror. Her voice feigned cheerfulness. “Good, it seems you didn’t overdo it last night.”

Ran Lin’s makeup hid his dark circles, but he was still concerned, previously about being called out and now about Wang Xi’s well-being.

Wang Xi, however, didn’t notice his concerned look, focusing instead on his styling. Once satisfied, she said, “Once you’re ready, come to my office, and we’ll go together.”

“Going together” meant she would accompany him to the client for the signing. Being able to give such instructions meant the earlier conversation hadn’t impacted Wang Xi’s workflow. Either the conversation wasn’t as serious as he thought, or Wang Xi was indeed very professional.

“Okay.” Ran Lin reminded himself not to overthink or ask too much, focusing on securing the day’s contract.

Wang Xi nodded in satisfaction and left. Once the door closed, Liu Wanwan quietly asked, “Ran Ge, don’t you think something’s off with Xi Jie?”

Ran Lin glanced at the stylist through the mirror and didn’t reply. Liu Wanwan got the hint and kept quiet.

After another half-hour, the styling was complete. Ran Lin, transformed from a plain-faced boy to a dashing young man, donned a fresh summer outfit and left for Wang Xi’s office.

However, before he reached the office, he encountered Han Ze in the corridor.

The other person’s spirit and energy seemed quite good, in stark contrast to Wang Xi. Upon seeing Ran Lin, he even offered a smile. “Morning.”

Ran Lin muttered to himself, both being called to the office. It made no sense for Wang Xi’s face to spell bad news while Han Ze’s spelled good; it was unscientific.

But Han Ze’s cheerful demeanor was unmistakably apparent.

“Morning,” Ran Lin responded, as one doesn’t slap a smiling face.

He thought they would just exchange greetings and pass by, but then Han Ze added, “Looking good there.”

It seemed like he was in the mood for a chat but Ran Lin couldn’t think of anything to talk about, so he ended up responding dryly, “You look good, too.”

“Going to sign a contract later?”

Han Ze kept the conversation going, but Ran Lin decided to cut it short. “Yeah, Xi Jie is waiting for me, so I’ll head over first.”

Han Ze surprisingly stepped aside, making way for Ran Lin, who was puzzled but keen on not lingering. Just as he took a couple of steps forward, he heard Han Ze wish from behind, “Good luck with the signing.”

“Thanks,” Ran Lin turned and smiled, then quickly walked towards Wang Xi’s office, full of suspicion.

He knocked twice on the door but got no response, although he could clearly hear Wang Xi’s voice inside, sounding agitated as if she was on a phone call. Knowing they didn’t have much formality between them, Ran Lin naturally pushed the door open, only to hear Wang Xi’s voice, suppressed with anger—

“I need a reason!”

Liu Wanwan, who followed, quickly closed the door and ushered a stunned Ran Lin to sit on a couch in the corner.

Unlike her forced spirits before, Wang Xi was now fully combative, her elaborate makeup making her look even more striking and forceful.

“Are they thinking Ran Lin is stupid, or do they think I am stupid? Can you believe such reasons… Yes, I know the contract isn’t signed yet, but nobody gets stood up on the day of signing…”

Hearing his name, Ran Lin had a bad feeling. Listening further, his heart sank. Liu Wanwan also sensed something was off and kept quiet, praying nothing drastic had happened.

It was clear the person on the other end of the phone wasn’t the client but a mediator conveying a message, which allowed Wang Xi to vent some frustration. But anger wouldn’t change the outcome; the person on the phone likely knew their role as a buffer and seemed to be trying to soothe Wang Xi with polite words.

Finally, Wang Xi’s anger subsided, ending in a helpless sigh. “I understand, but this is too much. But like you said, without a signed contract, we can only take the loss… Don’t worry, I know the rules. I’m just venting to you. Okay, let’s stop here. I still need to console my artist. Let’s have dinner sometime and talk.”

After hanging up, Wang Xi turned to Ran Lin, seated on the couch, with a wry smile. Ran Lin had a guess but still clung to a sliver of hope, asking, “What happened?”

Wang Xi didn’t respond but instead walked over and filled a cup of water from the cooler, handing it to Ran Lin. The chill from the cup was a small comfort in the summer heat.

Standing still, Wang Xi looked down at Ran Lin and said, “<Mint Green> has decided on Zhang Beichen.”

Her tone had shifted from the fierce one on the phone to a more soothing and gentle manner.

Ran Lin had suspected something was up with <Mint Green> but hadn’t considered Zhang Beichen as a competitor. Hearing the name from Wang Xi made him freeze.

“They say after reviewing the audition tapes repeatedly, the director still prefers Zhang Beichen’s performance,” relayed Wang Xi, her voice carrying a hint of mocking humor.

Ran Lin couldn’t laugh. After losing a role in <Chronicles of Winter> and now <Mint Green>, he felt like the saying “lucky in love, unlucky in gambling” might be true for him. If gambling represented his career, then he was indeed in a dire state.

“Xi Jie.” Ran Lin looked up at his agent. “What do you think the real reason is?”

It was important for him to understand the truth behind losing the role.

Wang Xi, silhouetted against the light, was indistinct except for the disdain in her tone. “What else could it be? How did a sure thing turn into a competition for you, and how did he swoop in at the last minute?”

“Are you suggesting he got involved with Ding Kai?!”

Ran Lin knew Zhang Beichen was gay, so with Wang Xi’s insinuation, he couldn’t imagine any other scenario. He felt a sudden desolation, knowing he had no right to pity anyone, as they were doing far better than him. This sadness even overshadowed the bitterness of losing the role.

After all, they were friends once, Ran Lin thought, so he still couldn’t treat the other party as an indifferent stranger.

“I can’t be sure.” Wang Xi, surprisingly, didn’t confirm Ran Lin’s suspicion. “But I can’t think of any other reason that would make the financiers change their minds the day before signing.”

Ran Lin understood her point. If Zhang Beichen had secured the role earlier, it wouldn’t have even reached Ran Lin, or he might have just received a rejection from the audition. The most plausible scenario was that Zhang Beichen had worked his way in after failing the audition, just in time before the signing.

Remembering Ding Kai’s previous “invitation”, it was hard not to suspect foul play.

“Alright.” Wang Xi clapped her hands, breaking the somber mood. “Buck up. Without <Mint Green>, there are other scripts. My phone’s been blowing up recently. Do you know how popular you are now, my dear little prince?”

As she spoke, Wang Xi went back to her desk and began searching through a pile of documents. Ran Lin got up from the corner and sat down across the desk, basking in the sunlight.

“Really… are there other scripts?” Ran Lin wasn’t doubting her, but it was hard to believe as Wang Xi searched without success.

Fortunately, the agent wasn’t bluffing and eventually pulled one out, passing it over.

“The schedule clashes with <Mint Green>, so I declined it, but they haven’t finalized it yet. There’s still a chance.”

It was a TV drama script, and seeing the title made Ran Lin’s feelings complex—<Eight Immortals Crossing the Sea²: The Legend of Han Xiangzi¹ >.

¹Chinese mythological figure and one of the Eight Immortals in the Taoist pantheon. He studied Taoist magical arts under the tutelage of Lü Dongbin, another of the Eight Immortals. Han Xiangzi is often depicted carrying a dizi (Chinese flute), so he is also regarded as the patron deity of flutists.
²A group of legendary immortals in Chinese mythology. Each immortal’s power can be transferred to a vessel that can bestow life or destroy evil. Together, these eight vessels are called the “Covert Eight Immortals”.

Wang Xi looked at Ran Lin’s indescribable expression and felt a pang of pity. “Or… wait for other scripts?”

“Yeah!” Ran Lin answered almost instantly.

Wang Xi smiled wryly. She didn’t really want Ran Lin to take that role; after all, starting from a good point with <Sword of Fallen Flowers> it wouldn’t make sense to go back to a low-quality drama. She just wanted to make sure Ran Lin wasn’t too defeated by losing <Mint Green>, especially since it was his first shot at being a male lead in a hot IP with a top production team. She couldn’t stand there and ask Ran Lin to take it lightly, as she couldn’t herself, particularly after the recent debacle with <Chronicles of Winter>…

With mixed feelings, Wang Xi blurted out impulsively, “I’ll make sure you play the male lead in a big-screen movie, and it must be with a top team!”

Ran Lin thought Wang Xi was just comforting him and was about to make a joke but swallowed it upon seeing the seriousness in her eyes.

After a while, he put the now-warm paper cup on the desk, looked up at Wang Xi seriously, and said, “Xi Jie, I want to act, to produce good works, big screen or small screen doesn’t matter, as long as you think the project is good and worth the passion and effort.”

Wang Xi watched him for a moment, then sighed softly. “I want you to be famous.”

Ran Lin said, “I hope to have roles to play all my life.”

Wang Xi’s lips curled into a rare smile—her first of the day. “Being famous is how you’ll always have roles to play. Our goals align, no problem there.”

…….

On the way back to his apartment, Ran Lin saw a construction site enclosed by blue barriers with a sign that read, “Come to work happy, go home safe.” He thought it aptly described his day—

Went to work with joy, went home sighing.

After fussing all morning, the sun had now risen to its highest point, starting to show its might, making everywhere too glaring to open one’s eyes. It was dry and hot and even the leaves on the roadside trees were drooping down, as if by hanging listlessly they could avoid some of the scorching sun.

Thinking back on Han Ze’s unusual behavior, it didn’t seem strange now—rather, it seemed perfectly normal. The place where he encountered Han Ze was precisely on the way to and from Wang Xi’s office. Probably, after leaving the boss’ office, they returned to Wang Xi’s, where she received the mediator’s call, prompting Han Ze to leave first. And Han Ze, having likely heard the beginning of the call, could easily guess its content.

“Good luck with the signing.”

Reflecting on those words now, they seemed to carry a schadenfreude tone.

Back home, Ran Lin washed off his makeup, switched to a T-shirt and shorts, and settled comfortably on the couch with half a watermelon, spooning out the sweet center.

With the TV droning in the background, he pondered Zhang Beichen and Ding Kai’s situation.

If these two get together, who will dominate who?

Physically, Zhang Beichen was taller, but Ding Kai was more robust. Personality-wise, both were assertive, though the former was more extroverted and the latter more profound…

Ran Lin entertained countless imaginary bouts between the two unrelated individuals in his head until a shopping ad on TV snapped him back to reality, realizing the absurdity of his boredom.

The gossip was like an addictive poison; once started, it was hard to stop, providing a vengeful pleasure against the backdrop of his ruined morning.

Ding-dong.

The WeChat notification broke through the ad’s chatter.

It was from Xia Xinran: [Congratulations!]

Confused, Ran Lin replied: [Congratulations for what?]

The other end must have been displeased, as a voice message quickly followed. “Don’t play dumb. You’re signing the male lead for <Mint Green> today, right?”

The sour feelings Ran Lin had suppressed with his gossiping resurfaced. But he couldn’t be angry with Xia Xinran, as his tone indicated genuine happiness for him.

[Blown it.]—Typing those two words felt like bleeding from the heart.

He didn’t have the vastness of the ocean; he was just an ordinary actor and losing such an opportunity in <Mint Green> made him want to rage and despair.

He didn’t want to add to Wang Xi’s burden, bring down Liu Wanwan further, or appear more pitiful to himself. But to Xia Xinran…

[Someone cut in line!!!!!!]—Sending that message felt like a release, sweeter than any watermelon.

Almost immediately, a voice call invitation popped up.

As soon as Ran Lin answered, Xia Xinran exclaimed, “Who’s the bastard?!”

The mass of gloomy air in Ran Lin’s heart suddenly exploded, turning into white smoke, hissing out of his every orifice, so much so that Ran Lin could even hear it. But miraculously, the more it released, the lighter and brighter his heart felt, as if he was a stalled steam train that had just fixed its problems, and now, with the whistle blowing “toot toot”, it was ready to “munch and stroll” forward again.

“Aren’t you at the film set?” Wary of further agitating Xia Xinran, knowing his beautiful friend could easily erupt, Ran Lin started off gently, asking someone beside him.

“I am, but it’s lunchtime now. I just happened to hear someone mention that <Mint Green> signed you, so I came right over to congratulate you. I was planning to scold you for such a big piece of news I had to hear from someone else, but you preempted me.”

Ran Lin could imagine Xia Xinran furiously typing the words “congratulations”, “You can still scold me now, regardless of whether the news is blown out of proportion, I haven’t told you either way.”

“Stop joking, let’s talk serious.” Xia Xinran seemed to have moved to a quieter place, the background noise much reduced. “Who took your role?”

Ran Lin hesitated for a moment and said, “I can tell you, but you must keep it a secret.”

Xia Xinran was puzzled. “Brother, once the production company announces it, the whole world will know. What’s there to keep secret?”

“It’s not about keeping the actor secret.” Ran Lin paused for a few seconds before continuing, “It’s about keeping the gossip secret.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

After a while, Ran Lin heard Xia Xinran say, “Swallowing the gossip without spreading it a second time is really hard…”

Ran Lin rolled his eyes, regretting he let this slip to his friend.

“Alright, alright.” It seemed like a major decision was made on the other end, and with gritted teeth. “I’ll keep it secret!”

Ran Lin smirked.

From the incident with Zhang Beichen and his friend, Ran Lin realized that although Xia Xinran usually can’t keep things to himself, if he’s determined to hide something, unless he wants to tell, you couldn’t dig it out even if you tried.

“The lead male role is confirmed for Zhang Beichen.” Relieved, Ran Lin didn’t keep it a mystery and told the truth.

Ran Lin expected Xia Xinran to explode, but on the contrary, after a long silence, he asked in a deep voice, “What’s the inside story?”

Ran Lin was surprised but then thought it made sense for Xia Xinran to ask this. He had emphasized keeping it secret, which must mean there were some juicy details behind it. Xia Xinran was clever.

“One of the most important investors of this drama is Armor City Pictures. Before the audition, the boss of Armor City Pictures, Ding Kai, approached me, and I didn’t agree.”

“So you suspect he agreed?”

“I have no evidence, and I can’t make unfounded claims, but initially, I was the one decided upon after the audition, until just before signing today, when things changed. They must have done something on their end. I’m telling you this not to discuss what methods Zhang Beichen might have used, but to warn you that if you encounter any projects invested by Ding Kai in the future, if you can avoid it, do so.”

Xia Xinran didn’t expect that Ran Lin wasn’t really looking to gossip but rather, through gossip, was providing him a protective layer. If it weren’t for the warning, Ran Lin probably wouldn’t have mentioned anything about Ding Kai. No, Xia Xinran was sure of it; Ran Lin never liked to speak ill of others and would rather keep things to himself.

“Don’t worry.” Xia Xinran felt warmed but still thought Ran Lin needn’t worry about him. “This is just one of the many solicitations I get daily. I’m well-seasoned by now.”

The unexpected response left Ran Lin both amused and reassured, but thinking about Xia Xinran, it made sense.

“Alright, as long as you’re not upset, don’t worry about me,” Xia Xinran said. “It’s normal to have roles snatched away. Many people start shooting only to be replaced. In front of investors, we’re always the weaker party and can only suffer in silence.”

“Understood.”

“Oh, and remember to remind your team, don’t post any vaguely accusatory Weibo posts or press releases,” Xia Xinran suddenly reminded. “You might lose this opportunity, but if the investors feel bad, they might consider you again. But if you make a scene, you’ll be labeled ‘difficult’, and then no investor will want you.”

Xia Xinran’s advice was identical to another friend’s, but Xia Xinran knew Ran Lin wouldn’t act rashly, so his reminder was more about ensuring his team remained calm, while the other friend’s advice was more personal.

The conversation added an interesting layer to the advice, rounding it out nicely.

“Can’t talk more. I haven’t finished my lunch,” Xia Xinran said, ready to hang up.

Ran Lin nodded. “Go eat. I’ve settled things with Lu Yiyao.”

Xia Xinran: “Alright, bye—wait, what?!”

Ran Lin moved the phone slightly away from his ear, smirking. “Nothing.”

“You, stop, now!” Now Xia Xinran could skip dinner too. “Come clean!”

Ran Lin had intended to inform since the call connected. After all, Xia Xinran was an informed party, patiently listening and advising at the party. It wouldn’t make sense to keep the outcome from him now.

And if Xia Xinran found out he was kept in the dark about <Mint Green>, he’d probably come after Ran Lin himself.

Once sure Xia Xinran was in a completely safe place, Ran Lin told him the truth. Given Xia Xinran’s limited lunch break, he didn’t go into too much detail, just the main points.

Only after listening did Xia Xinran hum. “You’re timely in reporting.”

Ran Lin breathed a sigh of relief, almost wanting to wipe sweat from his brow. “So, actually, this is what you really need to keep secret.”

“Don’t worry,” Xia Xinran said without hesitation. “Even if it means telling my girlfriend, I won’t betray a brother.”

Ran Lin: “You have a girlfriend now?!”

Xia Xinran: “Not yet.”

Ran Lin: “Then hurry up and find one, so I have an extra umbrella of protection.”

Xia Xinran: “Goodbye!”

Staring at the already hung-up chat, Ran Lin grinned for another two minutes. When he came back to reality and looked at the glaring sunlight outside. The summer sun didn’t seem so harsh anymore.

Exiting the chat with Xia Xinran and returning to the WeChat list, Ran Lin was about to message Lu Yiyao about the <Mint Green> change when he noticed a new message alert from a contact.

He clicked in and found it was a new number adding him.

The profile picture was of crystal-clear blue sea and sky, somewhere unknown. The image was frozen as the wind whipped up a wave, very high, seemingly with someone surfing in it, but too small to make out, just a dark figure against the high wall-like wave, seemingly translucent in the sunlight, casting an enchanting glow.

The ID of the profile was 1111.

Ran Lin felt something was off. It seemed like a scam number, but oddly enough, the person sent a friend request with the message, “Hello Ran Lin.”

Ran Lin’s WeChat ID and nickname weren’t his real name. Obviously, this was someone who knew him, or at least they had mutual friends. Lately, he’s been getting many such requests, especially after the success of <Sword of Fallen Flowers>; some for work, others from colleagues just wanting to make friends.

In the entertainment industry, it’s not about having too many acquaintances, but rather not having enough, so Ran Lin accepted all friend requests, even though some added never exchanged more than a few words with him.

He clicked to accept the request and then exited his contacts, ready to continue his conversation with Lu Yiyao about the “sniped tragedy”, only to receive a message from “1111”—

[I’m Ding.]

Looking at these words, Ran Lin felt a toothache coming on. It was a kind of nervous pain, often experienced in moments of “extreme regret” or “extreme annoyance”, and right now, he had both.

He knew he should’ve been cautious with such IDs!

The only Ding he knew was directly related to the day’s events, and it was hard to believe that this add was just a coincidence.

Taking advantage of the situation?

These words came to mind first, but Ran Lin quickly dismissed them. If Ding Kai hadn’t given up after being rejected, he could have used other means much earlier; there was no need to go through a fair competition and then suddenly break the contract, making things so complicated.

Explaining the last-minute contract break?

Even less likely. Even Wang Xi could only get a barely plausible “official statement” from intermediaries. Would Ding Kai add him on WeChat just to explain?

[Zhang Beichen was recommended by a very important friend of mine. There were no signs before, and it was only last night that they suddenly insisted on him, sorry.]

He actually… explained.

Ran Lin looked at the message, somewhat stunned. Both the content of the explanation and the final “sorry” made him feel like he was talking to an imposter Ding Kai.

Unable to contain his doubt, Ran Lin still tapped out two words to confirm—[Mr. Ding?]

The response was an “eye-rolling sweating” emoji, oozing disdain and speechlessness, clearly affirmative.

But Ran Lin couldn’t reconcile this down-to-earth emoji with the aloof Ding Kai he had met at the dinner.

However, since the other party had already started talking, Ran Lin felt that if he didn’t ask now, he might never get the chance to know the truth. After all, it’s just WeChat—

[Can you tell me which friend of yours it is?]

1111—[Inconvenient.]

Ran Lin was exasperated, but before he could continue his internal rant, another message came—[Both you and Zhang Beichen auditioned well. The director felt either of you could fit, but in the end, I recommended you. However, now that my friend has spoken, you’re not important enough for me to snub my friend’s face for your sake.]

Ran Lin frowned slightly, starting to get the gist of it. Ding Kai’s message seemed like an “explanation”, but it was more like a “hint” to him. And he was unusually humble about it.

Ran Lin didn’t know whether to praise him for his persistence or scold him for being shameless.

[Mr. Ding, I understand. Regardless, thank you for giving me this opportunity. Even if I can’t play the part in the end, I’ve learned a lot.]— Politeness was easy for Ran Lin to muster. He could serve eight sentences for a penny.

1111—[Do you really understand?]

Ran Lin—[I do. If I can’t play the part, it’s just that I’m not destined for the role as Li Yi.]

The phone went quiet, and 1111 didn’t reply for a while.

Ran Lin knew that the other side probably understood. Understood that he got the hint and understood that he was politely declining.

About two minutes later, the other side sent a seemingly unrelated question.

1111—[I remember you said that acting, and acting well, is your ideal?]

This was something Ran Lin had said at the dinner, and he hadn’t expected Ding Kai to remember it, so naturally, he couldn’t deny it—[Yes.]

1111—[It seems you’re not persistent enough about your ideal.]

Ran Lin—[If all ideals are realized, what’s left to strive for in life?]

1111—[Isn’t it painful always seeing but never reaching?]

Ran Lin looked at this sentence for a long time, and then finally, his lips curled up.

Ran Lin—[The beauty of ideals lies in their perpetual shine, no matter when you look up at them.]

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