Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

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Chapter 36

Ran Lin’s last participation in a dinner gathering was at the end of last year, with the company’s CEO. At that time, several key artists from the company were present, all flattering the CEO to the utmost. Ran Lin also said a few words, but with so many people at the table, the CEO probably didn’t pay much attention to him.

Ran Lin didn’t particularly like these obligatory dinner gatherings, but he didn’t detest them either. Not every investor is looking to take advantage of actors, and among the few who do, most are interested in female actresses. So, in Ran Lin’s limited experience with such gatherings, his main task had been to flatter and please, making further conversations easier.

The investor of <Sword of Fallen Flowers> was the CEO of a well-known listed cultural and entertainment company, Lei Baishi. He was a straightforward person who never imposed on actors and only sought praise and cultural person with a pursuit of art.

The dinner was initiated by the CEO of another company, Mr. Ma, who had cooperated with Lei Baishi before and had a good relationship with him. Hence, he easily agreed to the meeting.

The dinner was scheduled for the evening of May 23^rd, at a famous high-end club in Beijing—all arranged according to Lei Baishi’s preferences.

That morning, Wang Xi brought Ran Lin to the company for a brief training session. She briefed him on Lei Baishi’s background, personality, and preferences. Afterward, a stylist made sure Ran Lin looked his best.

“How do you feel?” Wang Xi looked at Ran Lin, who was polished and handsome, and was very satisfied.

Ran Lin, looking at himself in the mirror, also felt emotional. “I should come with a gift box and ribbon.”

Wang Xi laughed without humor. “Do you think anyone can be packaged and sent off like that? If that were possible, my job would be much easier. It would be a one-time deal, neat and straightforward.”

Ran Lin jokingly asked, “Are there still such one-time deals?”

Wang Xi, having not expected such a joke, seriously pondered for a moment and regretfully shook her head. “Not anymore. Even the most straightforward deals require a few months of packaging and depend on whether the investor is interested. Times have changed. In the past, actors were forced to accept unspoken rules, but now, if you’re not willing, step aside. There are plenty of others eager to take your place.”

“Alright, let’s stop this banter.” Wang Xi quickly got back to the point. “Did you memorize everything I told you?”

Ran Lin nodded vigorously. “Flattery first, drinks second. Once the mood is set by drinking, everything is easier to discuss.”

Wang Xi was exasperated. “Where did you get all this nonsense?” But then she thought about it and realized that it was indeed the case.

They arrived at the club five minutes before seven in the evening. The club was private, and they were led to a secluded room after navigating several corridors.

Wang Xi had chosen a moderately-sized room with a ten-person round table, even though there would be no more than six or seven guests. A smaller room was chosen to facilitate close communication, as speaking across a larger space would be cumbersome.

The menu had been pre-arranged by Wang Xi. Now, all that was left to do was to wait.

Ran Lin saw how seriously his agent was taking this and didn’t dare to take it lightly either.

An hour passed in silence, feeling like a year.

Finally, Wang Xi’s phone rang, and the lead person on the other end informed them they were about to arrive. Ran Lin breathed a sigh of relief, took a deep breath, and stood up with Wang Xi, preparing for the crucial moment.

“Mr. Ma—”

As soon as a figure appeared at the door, Wang Xi enthusiastically greeted him.

Ran Lin quickly followed, also smiling brightly.

The first to enter was Mr. Ma, the initiator of the dinner, in his forties, of medium build, wearing a crisp suit and gold-rimmed glasses, with a gentle and elegant smile. He entered the room, shaking hands with an overly enthusiastic Wang Xi. “Ms. Wang, you arrived quite early.”

“You can’t call me that, or how can we have a pleasant dinner and conversation tonight?” Wang Xi’s tone wasn’t complaining but rather coquettishly reproachful.

Ran Lin was stunned. He had never seen Wang Xi like this before—she seemed like a thawed iceberg, now a gentle and charming stream.

Mr. Ma seemed quite pleased with Wang Xi’s warmth. Just as he entered, he introduced Lei Baishi. “This is Mr. Lei. You know, he rarely dines with people. His presence today really honors you.”

The entrance of important figures always requires a buildup, just like the classic announcement at a school sports meet, “Approaching us now is the representative team of Class X of Year X.” At this moment, Mr. Ma was the announcer, and Mr. Lei was the leading contingent.

Lei Baishi certainly had the presence to dominate the scene.

In his early fifties but looking more like in his forties, he was tall and broad, with a square face and wide shoulders. As he entered, the room suddenly seemed less spacious.

He, like Mr. Ma, was dressed in a suit, his hair meticulously combed, his shoes shining, with deep-set features and a resolute expression. More than a CEO, he had the aura of a tough guy.

“Mr. Lei, I’m truly grateful for your presence today. Please, take the main seat—” Wang Xi had seen Lei Baishi from a distance at a wine party, but this was her first face-to-face meeting. She was quite surprised internally, but her face showed nothing but sweetness.

Lei Baishi accepted the gesture without hesitation and sat in the designated seat with a slight smile—polite yet distant.

Following Lei Baishi was his assistant, a bespectacled young man. After Lei Baishi settled, he whispered a few words, to which the assistant nodded and said, “Okay, Mr. Lei. I’ll wait for you in the car outside.”

Having an assistant is normal, but “waiting in the car” indicates that the person being waited for won’t stay long.

Ran Lin caught the nuance, and so did Wang Xi. But before they could react, another person entered the room.

Director Chen Qizheng!

Compared to the CEOs’ formal attire, Chen Qizheng was much more modest and understated.

Wang Xi already knew from the lead person that Director Chen would be coming, but as he hadn’t shown up earlier, she thought there might have been a change of plans. It turned out he was making a grand entrance.

“Director Chen—” Wang Xi got up again to warmly welcome the guest.

Ran Lin quickly stood up as well, respectfully greeting, “Director Chen.”

Director Chen Qizheng, unlike Lei Baishi, who deliberately puts on airs, was always aloof and rarely showed a smile to anyone other than investors. So, this time, he simply nodded at Wang Xi and glanced at Ran Lin without saying a word, then took his seat directly.

Finally, everyone had arrived.

Lei Baishi sat in the main seat, with Director Chen, Mr. Ma, and others around him. Wang Xi was next to Lei Baishi, and next to her was Ran Lin.

Ran Lin suddenly wanted to take back what he jokingly said about “gift boxes and ribbons” before leaving.

Compared to him, the two CEOs were genuinely prepped from head to toe, in crisp suits, and with shirts so wrinkle-free they could go to an awards ceremony.

The server, very observant, began to serve dishes, and soon, the table was almost full.

Wang Xi courteously spoke to the investor. “Mr. Lei, I wasn’t sure what you liked to eat, so I just ordered a few dishes. If there’s anything unsatisfactory, please forgive us.”

“It’s okay. I can’t eat much anyway, as I have something else later,” Lei Baishi responded with a cold smile and then turned to the host, Mr. Ma, with a much warmer tone. “Ma Laodi*, please take care of everything tonight.”

*This is a combination of Lao + Di (younger brother). It’s often used as an address to refer to a close male friend or colleague who’s younger or similar age. You can think of it as him calling him (Younger) Brother Ma.

“What are you talking about, Mr. Lei? Your presence alone is an honor for me,” Mr. Ma said as he stood up, taking the bottle of Wuliangye that the waiter had just opened and poured a substantial amount into his cup, ready to drink it all in one go. “Come on, let’s fill up our cups. I’ll make the first toast.”

As a lead organizer, Mr. Ma was indeed very efficient.

Wang Xi gratefully passed a glance to Mr. Ma.

Mr. Ma, catching her glance out of the corner of his eye, didn’t make much of a fuss. After filling his own glass, he dutifully started to pour for Mr. Lei.

Mr. Lei subtly moved his cup away, smiling and shaking his head at his friend. “Ma Laodi, I really have something later on. I can’t do white liquor tonight. Let’s just stick with beer.”

Mr. Ma and Lei Baishi exchanged looks for two seconds. Understanding the situation. Mr. Ma quickly went along with it, saying, “Alright, let’s stick to beer today.”

Having said that, he put down the white liquor and picked up the beer, first filling Mr. Lei’s glass to the brim, then pouring one for Director Chen next to him, and finally taking a new empty glass for himself. He didn’t forget to beckon his friends across the table. “Ms. Wang, Star Ran, don’t just sit there. Do I really need to come over and pour for you?”

Mr. Ma’s words were spoken with a mix of humor and playfulness, livening up the atmosphere instantly.

Wang Xi hurriedly took the beer and poured herself a glass, turning to pour for Ran Lin, only to find that he had already prepared a full glass for himself.

Wang Xi was pleased.

Meanwhile, Mr. Ma had already picked up his glass, and although the dinner was funded by Wang Xi, he, as the organizer, seemed more like the host. Naturally, he had to open the dinner and set the tone. “Tonight’s dinner is a great honor, with Mr. Lei and Mr. Chen attending. Ms. Wang has been a friend of mine for many years. Since we are all here, it’s fate. Let’s not talk shop today and just enjoy each other’s company. Whoever breaks the rule will have to drink as a penalty. Come on—”

Following Mr. Ma’s lead, everyone graciously stood up and clinked their glasses together, marking the start of the evening.

Wang Xi drank her beer in one gulp, wanting to remind Ran Lin not to leave any, but when she turned back, she saw that he was already ahead of her.

At the other end, Chen Qizheng also downed his drink in one go. Lei Baishi was the slowest to drink, but he eventually emptied his glass, fully honoring Mr. Ma’s request.

“Mr. Lei, please try this dish…” Wang Xi kindly helped to rotate the dish, trying to make Lei Baishi feel at home while giving Ran Lin a meaningful look.

Ran Lin had just picked up a shrimp ball, but reluctantly put it down, swiftly filled his glass again, and then stood up with it, saying aloud, “Mr. Lei, I toast to you.”

Lei Baishi was waiting for this moment. Hearing this, he put down his chopsticks and looked up with interest. “A toast needs a reason. I don’t drink without one.”

Ran Lin’s heart skipped a beat, immediately realizing the question was a trap.

But he couldn’t help but answer it.

He could only sincerely say, “Of course, there is a reason. This first glass, I must thank you and Director Chen for valuing me. Without your support, with my experience, I wouldn’t have the chance to be part of <Sword of Fallen Flowers>.”

Lei Baishi was pleased with his answer, smiling and patting his forehead. “Who just said we’re not talking about work today?”

There was the trap.

In his heart, Ran Lin wanted to lash out at Lei Baishi, beating him until he cried for mother and father, but he quickly responded, “My mistake. I’ll penalize myself with a drink!”

Saying so, he raised his glass and drank it all in one gulp.

Lei Baishi was somewhat surprised by his straightforwardness, actually becoming a bit interested.

After finishing his drink, Ran Lin immediately refilled his glass and, without another word, raised it again. “Mr. Lei, this glass is for you. Even if I’m penalized, I accept it. Even if you don’t like to hear it, I must say, I’m truly grateful.”

After finishing his speech, he downed the drink again.

Lei Baishi was a bit dumbfounded.

So was Wang Xi.

Mr. Ma, however, was happily watching this unconventional approach, finding the dinner worthwhile.

At this point, Lei Baishi couldn’t be pretentious anymore. He really didn’t want to use Ran Lin and even didn’t want to attend this dinner any longer, but being toasted so sincerely, it would look bad for him to keep up his facade, and it wouldn’t match his principles.

“Alright, I’ll take this drink.” Saying so, he downed it in one go, spirited and assertive.

Matching Ran Lin’s drinking, this Mr. Lei directly poured it down his throat, clearly a veteran of many battles.

After toasting the investor, Ran Lin didn’t even sit down but immediately refilled his glass and toasted the director. “Director Chen, this glass is for you.”

Director Chen slightly narrowed his eyes, as if assessing.

Ran Lin felt like he was being scanned by an X-ray.

Fortunately, Chen Qizheng soon raised his glass. Though not as verbose as Mr. Lei, he simply said, “I’m not much of a drinker. Let’s do half a glass each.”

Ran Lin said nothing and just nodded.

Chen Qizheng slowly drank half a glass, while Ran Lin quickly emptied his.

After Chen Qizheng finished his drink, he realized that Ran Lin had already finished his and felt a bit amused and apologetic. He wasn’t much of a drinker and didn’t enjoy drinking, nor did he have Mr. Lei’s pleasure in getting people drunk. Ran Lin’s straightforwardness made him feel a bit guilty.

Unexpectedly, Ran Lin said, “You taking even a sip is an honor for me, but as I toast to you, I must finish my drink. It’s a matter of courtesy.”

His words were pleasing, and his drinking was hearty. He not only smoothed things over but also showed his sincerity. Chen Qizheng suddenly felt that his previous understanding of Ran Lin might have been biased, at least not comprehensive.

The young man before him presented a completely different demeanor from the day of the audition, which both surprised and intrigued him.

Wang Xi, who was also impressed, doubted whether she had brought a fake Ran Lin today. She thought she would have to carry the dinner party herself to avoid awkwardness, but as soon as Ran Lin picked up his glass, he transformed magnificently and unexaggeratedly, becoming bold in a second.

While Wang Xi was still trying to figure things out, Ran Lin had already toasted to Mr. Ma, still speaking politely and always hitting the right note, which Mr. Ma appreciated by drinking his glass in one gulp.

Fortunately, there were few people, and toasting three was like making a round.

Wang Xi thought Ran Lin would sit down, but the young man refilled his glass and headed towards her. “Xi Jie, I also want to thank you. Without your guidance, I would still be in the third-rate category, and no one would know who Ran Lin is. Xi Jie, I’ll finish this glass, and you can do as you please.”

Touched by his words, Wang Xi instinctively picked up her glass.

Ran Lin smiled and clinked glasses with her, producing a clear sound, and then decisively finished his drink.

One drink to start, one as a penalty, four in toasts—equivalent to chugging six drinks in one go, which wasn’t easy even for beer. But Ran Lin seemed unfazed and became even more bold as he drank, resembling Lei Baishi and pouring straight into his throat.

When he finally put the empty glass back on the table, Lei Baishi clapped twice, his distant politeness fading, replaced by a hint of sentiment. “So many people, once they become famous and successful, forget their roots and how they struggled to get there.” Lei Baishi emphasized, “Ran Lin, your gratitude is rare.”

Ran Lin bowed opportunistically, refilling Lei Baishi’s glass across Wang Xi.

Lei Baishi showed his first smile since entering the room, albeit a bit helpless. “Is this how you repay my compliment?”

Ran Lin laughed, relaxed and natural, with a hint of brotherly affection. “In this case, Mr. Lei, no matter how many times I toast to you, I’ll drink two glasses for your one, so you can’t say I’m forcing you.”

“You’re not forcing me, you’re insulting me.”

Lei Baishi couldn’t stand being looked down upon!

He slammed the table. “If you drink two, I’ll drink two; if you drink eight, I’ll join you for sixteen!”

Lei Baishi’s passion ignited, and Mr. Ma, watching, almost choked with laughter.

Who was accompanying whom?

That’s why people shouldn’t have weaknesses. Someone like Lei Baishi, who loves drinking and boasting, enjoys being flattered and can’t tolerate provocation. Ran Lin had precisely targeted his Achilles’ heel.

He surreptitiously gave Wang Xi a look of admiration.

Wang Xi shook her head with a dry laugh at Mr. Ma.

She also wanted to know what had transformed her artist so radically before they set out.

All beginnings are hard.

The same goes for drinking.

There’s really no difficulty; whoever dares to compete and let go can dominate the scene with the first shot.

Ran Lin had learned this from his father, who had been drinking all his life.

Thanks to his father, he had attended many dinner parties organized by various uncles and elders.

What were called dinner parties were actually drinking parties.

Now, he was pleasantly surprised to discover that no matter what status, as long as you get into the spirit at a drinking party, it’s all the same.

“I’ll tell you, <Sword of Fallen Flowers> is going to be a huge hit. There’s always talk that wuxia is dead, but I don’t believe that! I always say that there are no dead themes, only people who can’t manage projects. Ask Director Chen. Didn’t I say the same when I invited him out of retirement…”

As the drinks and dishes passed, any pretense of “having something else to do” was forgotten, and the assistant waiting in the car wisely didn’t come in to urge him. As for not talking about work, that rule was broken by Lei Baishi, who spoke of creating major IPs, saving domestic TV dramas, and reviving the martial arts craze.

Ran Lin could hear the investor’s dreams but also saw the resignation in the director’s eyes.

A layman leading experts is quite a powerless thing.

Fortunately, Lei Baishi, the layman, wasn’t too authoritarian and showed basic respect for the director. Though the script was changed, it wasn’t done stubbornly, and he listened to the director’s opinions—a compromise on both sides.

Even in casting, if there was no respect for the director and screenwriter, Ran Lin’s nomination as Fang Xian wouldn’t have been possible.

“Xiao Ran, have you seen the latest version of the script?” Lei Baishi, eating a fish, suddenly asked.

The change in address reflected the rapid advancement of relationships during the dinner.

Ran Lin quickly replied, “I have. Is it the version where the love story is particularly touching?”

Wang Xi raised her eyebrows slightly, giving Ran Lin a look of approval.

Ran Lin smiled, trying not to let his amusement show too much.

Lei Baishi’s eyes lit up, never having heard such a comment about the script before, was heartily pleased. “You also think this version is good?”

“Of course,” Ran Lin replied without hesitation, then prayed internally for forgiveness for his white lie. “As soon as I read the script, I felt it was completely different. Highlighting the romantic storyline adds a touch of gentleness to the tough intrigue of martial arts. While audiences love straightforward revenge, they also appreciate subtle and moving scenes. Hard and soft together make for perfection.”

“We should have brought Song Mang here today to hear you say this.” Lei Baishi, moved as if he found a kindred spirit, slapped the table. “Enough with beer, bring out the liquor!”

Ran Lin could imagine how vexed Lei Baishi must have been by screenwriter Song Mang’s stubbornness; hence, only Director Chen was present and not the screenwriter, with whom he was probably at odds.

Switching from beer to liquor, Lei Baishi was the most excited, while Chen Qizheng was the most reluctant, wishing not to drink at all.

Mr. Ma spent the entire evening enjoying the lively atmosphere, witnessing Lei Baishi’s transformation from disdain to almost brotherly camaraderie with Ran Lin. He genuinely felt that even if he had to pay for the meal himself, it would be worth it.

Driven by curiosity, he sent a few WeChat messages to Wang Xi under the table.

The so-called “long-time friends” was just a made-up excuse. In reality, Wang Xi had added him on WeChat through a mutual friend, and they had only known each other for a few days. But once added, they were friends, and it wasn’t awkward to chat a bit at the same table.

Ma Kuidou: [Your kid is really good at chatting, impressive.]

Wang Xi: [Just average, really.]

Ma Kuidou: [Lucky he’s a guy. If it were a girl, Lao Lei would probably make a mistake.]

Wang Xi: [Haha.]

Ma Kuidou: [And he can hold his liquor, never gets drunk even after a thousand cups.]

Wang Xi: [I’m a bit shocked too. He’s never drunk like this before.]

Ma Kuidou: [🤨]

Wang Xi: [Seriously, would I lie to you? It’s my first time seeing him drink like this.]

Ma Kuidou: [Then he’s a hidden talent, promising.]

Ma Kuidou: [Rest assured, the matter you’re concerned about, I think there’s a chance.]

Chen Qizheng watched everything with a cold eye. On one side, Lei Baishi and Ran Lin were drinking passionately, and on the other, Wang Xi and Ma Kuidou were happily chatting privately. He felt like the most redundant person in the room.

The only consolation was that, noticing his reluctance to drink, Ran Lin didn’t toast him after the initial round.

This was a young man that was much smarter than he had imagined.

And… he really could drink.

Lei Baishi was already a bit tipsy, starting to talk about the origin of his name—inspired by Qi Baishi*, chosen by his grandfather, carrying the family’s high hopes.

*A Chinese painter, noted for the whimsical, often playful style of his works. Born to a peasant family from Xiangtan, Hunan, Qi taught himself to paint, sparked by the Manual of the Mustard Seed Garden.

Unfortunately, he had no talent in painting, but at least he could excel in other artistic fields, like the film and television industry.

By contrast, Ran Lin’s cheeks were slightly flushed, but his eyes were clear, obviously still lucid.

Lei Baishi became more emotional as he talked, starting to reminisce about his struggles. Ran Lin finally took the opportunity to slip to the restroom when Lei Baishi’s attention shifted elsewhere—like to Mr. Ma.

Although there was a restroom in the private room, Ran Lin chose the one in the hallway.

Once in the restroom, he went straight into a stall, locked the door, opened the toilet, and vomited violently.

Ran Lin didn’t like drinking, but he did have a high tolerance, likely a family trait, mainly inherited from his mother.

Despite his father’s love for alcohol, his mother was the real expert. It was said that during their courtship, she pretended not to know how to drink, but when his father insisted on toasting, she ended up under the table.

But not getting drunk didn’t mean he couldn’t feel bloated, especially with beer. Drinking recklessly could lead to an uncomfortably swollen stomach.

After flushing the toilet, Ran Lin stood up, feeling much better.

He rinsed his mouth with cold water, splashed some on his face, and took a deep breath, feeling refreshed inside and out.

Lei Baishi was quite straightforward as a person. As a businessman, he focused on profit, but as an artist, he genuinely pursued his passions. And as a drinking buddy, he was the most sincere, not tolerating anyone outdrinking him.

This last point was independent of status; all drinkers are one family.

Not wanting to delay too long, Ran Lin left the restroom, only to run into Chen Qizheng in the hallway.

“Director Chen?” Ran Lin had intentionally gone to the outside restroom, not understanding why Chen Qizheng would be there.

Chen Qizheng didn’t speak but stared at Ran Lin for two seconds before suddenly asking, “Did you vomit?”

Ran Lin was taken aback and instinctively wanted to deny it, but realizing Chen Qizheng must have noticed, he hesitantly admitted, “Director Chen, you have sharp eyes.”

“Save the compliments for Mr. Lei,” Chen Qizheng said dryly.

Ran Lin awkwardly laughed.

“How do you feel about the character Fang Xian?” Chen Qizheng asked casually but directly.

Caught off guard, Ran Lin hesitated before cautiously answering, “The character’s conflict mainly revolves around him and Tang Jingyu, making it a challenging role.”

Chen Qizheng stared intently at Ran Lin; his eyes sharp. “Can you handle it?”

Ran Lin felt immense pressure. He hadn’t felt this way facing the disdainful Lei Baishi, but Chen Qizheng’s gaze made him feel exposed.

Wang Xi had arranged this gathering so he could compete for the second lead role, and he had gone along with it, as it wasn’t a decision he could make based on his preferences. It was both the company’s desire and an objective judgment; it wouldn’t make sense to settle for a lesser role with less screen time.

But Chen Qizheng’s question revealed his hesitation and doubt.

Faced with such penetrating eyes, Ran Lin could only be honest. “I don’t know. Fang Xian changes a lot from the early to later stages of the story. He goes from being arrogant and carefree to conflicted, suffering, and struggling. His relationship with Tang Jingyu shifts from brotherly to hostile, almost destroying and then rebirthing him. I feel it’s quite distant from my personality…”

Chen Qizheng interrupted him mercilessly. “If I had known you thought this way, I wouldn’t have let you play Xu Chongfei.”

Ran Lin was speechless, standing there somewhat helplessly.

Chen Qizheng stared at him unblinkingly, his voice low and firm. “Remember, a true actor doesn’t play characters that are like them; they make themselves like the characters.”

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<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

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Chapter 35

Ran Lin received the final script of <Sword of Fallen Flowers> in mid-May, on a warm evening. The weather had gradually warmed up, and people were already starting to wear short sleeves during the hottest part of the day. It was also said that the Miya Shampoo advertisement would be aired that day, so Ran Lin had been watching the TV closely after lunch.

The wind, carrying the warmth of the setting sun, blew in through the screen window, lulling him into drowsiness. Amidst his half-asleep state, Wang Xi called to inform him that the final script from the production had arrived. Before he could even rejoice, his own flowing hair finally appeared on TV.

Who says fortune doesn’t come double?

Ran Lin felt as happy as a sunflower in the sun.

The advertisement didn’t use Ran Lin’s original voice; it was dubbed from start to finish. Even the part where he played the guitar only kept the image without the actual guitar melody and singing. Due to time constraints, the guitar scene was only a few seconds long, and since Ran Lin sang someone else’s song, it involved copyright issues. So the advertisement added different BGM for that part. As the scene quickly passed, the screen displayed a close-up of the shampoo bottle, and the narration was the powerful slogan of the ad.

But Ran Lin’s rosy lips and white teeth were still clearly reflected through the camera, so much so that while watching, one would ignore the hair and focus on the face.

Ran Lin regretted not sending a WeChat red packet to the photographer.

“Hello? Are you there?” Wang Xi was puzzled as the call went silent halfway.

The TV had started airing other ads, and Ran Lin, regaining his focus, giggled. “Xi Jie, I saw my own ad.”

Wang Xi was infected by his joy and laughed along. “How does it feel?”

Thinking back to those scenes, Ran Lin was quite sentimental. “They made me look too good…”

Wang Xi was confused, unable to tell if he was boasting or being modest.

“This is just the beginning. You’ll have more and more endorsements in the future, and they’ll be of higher caliber.” Wang Xi got back to business. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll have Liu Wanwan bring the final script to you. As for the contract, I expect it to come in a few days. Our company will check the clauses; you just need to sign it at the end.”

“Okay, Xi Jie.”

Actually, Ran Lin couldn’t wait to see the script, but since Wang Xi said it would be delivered first thing in the morning and there were still more than three months left, one night wouldn’t make much difference.

After hanging up with his agent, Ran Lin no longer had to feign composure and let out an excited shout, diving into the sofa like Nezha, causing havoc in the sea. After feeling like he had stirred up the Dragon Palace enough, the excitement running through his body gradually settled down. Still, his heart thumped wildly, reminiscent of the days he received his university acceptance letter.

It wasn’t Ran Lin’s first time acting in a TV drama, but such a big investment, such a great setup, and such an important role were indeed like a dream come true for him, something he wouldn’t have dared to imagine before.

Although he had confirmed his name on the preliminary list from Lu Yiyao and Wang Xi a few days ago, it was still just “preliminary”, and no one could guarantee it was set in stone. Now that the script had arrived and the contract was soon to follow, everything seemed to be falling into place, bringing an unprecedented sense of reassurance.

Without much thought, Ran Lin dialed his mother’s phone number. At this time, the shop should be less busy, and his mother would likely be cleaning up.

Thinking this, the phone on the other end was already answered, and his mother’s voice was as hearty as ever. “Son, what’s up?”

Ran Lin loved his mom’s directness, going straight to the point. In fact, communication between the three members of their family was always in this style. “Mom, I’m on TV!”

His mom was confused. “You’ve been on TV for a while now. Your dad and I watched all eight episodes.”

“Not that, an advertisement.” Ran Lin, holding back until everything was certain, was now eager to show off. “XX channel, go watch tonight; my shampoo ad is on!”

“Really?!” His mom also got excited. “Which channel did you just say?”

“XX channel.”

“Okay, your dad and I will be watching tonight!”

Ran Lin frowned. “Dad’s not there? Went drinking with Uncle Zhao again?”

His mom: “No…”

Ran Lin: “Then that’s good.”

His mom: “He went fishing with your Uncle Zhang.”

Ran Lin: “…”

The bun shop was jointly run by his parents, but over the years, it had settled into a routine. With a few employees hired, they weren’t as busy as before. So his dad, seemingly trying to recapture his youth, often went out to have fun with his buddies.

Sighing, Ran Lin couldn’t add fuel to the fire and only comforted his mom. “Dad has a lot of friends. Try to understand.”

Instead of calming her down, this made his mom even angrier, and her voice rose an octave. “He has friends? Don’t I have friends? Your Auntie He, Auntie Zhou, Auntie Sun, and Auntie Li have invited me out for trips so many times. If I were heartless like your dad, I would have left the shop behind long ago and disappeared!”

Ran Lin smiled, knowing his mom just needed to vent. And if he guessed right, she would soon bring up their usual topic…

“Son, it’s only because of you that I can spend a lifetime with your dad…”

Right on cue.

Ran Lin had heard this from middle school to high school and from high school to university. As a kid, he used to worry about his parents’ relationship. Now he saw through it, finding it an expression of their love.

“Alright, son, I won’t talk to you anymore. With such great news, I need to tell Auntie He, Auntie Zhou, Auntie Sun, and Auntie Li. They ask about you every day…”

Ran Lin held his forehead, as these aunts were his mom’s close friends who had watched him grow up. The saying goes, “Three women make a drama*”, but in his case, with his mom, it was five women. Now, just hearing these aunts’ names brought back memories of being pinched and pampered by them in his childhood.

*Saying use to describe situations where a small group of women are involved in gossiping, chatting, or engaging in overly dramatic or emotional ways, leading to lively, noisy, or complicated situations akin to a theatrical drama.

Before Ran Lin could respond, his excited mom had already hung up the phone. She was probably either flipping through her phone book looking for her sisters’ numbers or announcing it directly in their WeChat group.

Ran Lin, smiling, thought for a moment, and then called his dad.

His dad answered almost immediately but spoke in a hushed tone, “Son, what’s up? You should choose a better time to call. You scared away the fish.”

Ran Lin rolled his eyes. “What’s more important, your son or the fish?”

Ran Yimin: “…”

Ran Lin: “Do you even need to think about this question!”

Ran Yimin: “Of course, you are more important.”

He seriously pondered before giving an answer…

Ran Lin sighed helplessly, setting aside the advertisement to become the lubricant for his parents’ relationship. “I just called Mom. She’s still busy in the shop. You should be more considerate of her. Don’t keep running out every other day.”

“My going out every other day? Did your mom tell you that?” Ran Lin’s father was indignant, trying to keep his voice down due to the presence of his fishing buddies, but the sense of injustice was evident. “I’ve only been out once this week. Ask Xiao Cai if you don’t believe me.”

Xiao Cai was a long-time helper at the shop. Ran Lin’s father mentioning Xiao Cai proved he was telling the truth. Ran Lin frowned slightly, noting that he should take his mother’s words with a grain of salt in the future.

“Son, it’s only because Dad has you that anyone can spend a lifetime with your mom…”

Ran Lin was struck by how familiar this line sounded.

The other end of the phone continued to narrate a tale of woe. “You have no idea. Your mom’s nagging is unbearable—it’s like torture. Only I can endure it…”

Ran Lin looked up at the sky, facing parents who competed in misery. What should he do?

He decided to stun them with his good news.

“Dad,” Ran Lin interrupted his father. “I filmed an advertisement, for shampoo. You can see it on TV tonight when you get home.”

“Really?!” The voice on the phone exploded, almost sounding like a loudspeaker.

Ran Lin quickly moved the phone away, reminding, “Dad, aren’t you afraid of scaring the fish away?”

“Fish? What fish! Hey, Lao* Zhang, stop fishing. My son’s in an advertisement hahaha—”

*Old (老) When used with a name, it’s a friendly way to address someone, often indicating familiarity, respect, or affection.

Another familiar scene of boasting. Ran Lin looked out the window, where two sparrows were chirping away.

How could parents like them not get along?

They’re a perfect match!

Finally done dealing with his worrisome parents, Ran Lin picked up his phone to message Lu Yiyao on WeChat, wanting to tell him about his advertisement. But halfway through typing, he paused, realizing this act was no different from his mom eagerly sharing the news or his dad calling Uncle Zhang.

A chill went down his spine.

Ran Lin deleted the half-typed message.

Ah, genetics—an inevitable fate.

……

Lu Yiyao also received the script on the same evening, but unlike Ran Lin, he had two differences: one, Yao Hong personally delivered the script to his home, and two, the final contract came with it.

Evidently, compared to various supporting roles, the production was more urgent about finalizing the male lead. Yao Hong also wanted to settle it quickly because only a signed contract on paper provided security for both parties. But no matter how urgent, she needed to read the final draft first. In recent years, the industry was rife with pitfalls, and a verbally promised male lead role was only concrete when it materialized in the script.

“Read the script first. If there are no issues, we can sign the contract. It will stipulate that the current draft in your hands is the basis, and any future changes must be approved by you.”

“Understood,” Lu Yiyao said, entering a serious and focused work mode.

Yao Hong didn’t linger, standing up to leave. “I’ve also kept a copy of the script. I’ll read it too. Let’s communicate about any issues. We must decide whether to sign the contract by the day after tomorrow.”

Lu Yiyao nodded in acknowledgment.

After Yao Hong left, Lu Yiyao immediately went to his study and began reading the script intently.

He spent the entire night reading the thick script.

Although Yao Hong warned him not to stay up late, there were exceptions. Judging from her tone, the day after tomorrow was the latest deadline, and Lu Yiyao preferred to work ahead of the last moment.

Moreover, the more he read the script, the more things seemed off. When he stepped out of the study at dawn, the first rays of sunlight filled the living room, but amidst this brilliance, Lu Yiyao felt a chill.

The script had changed.

While his role as Tang Jingyu remained largely the same, other characters’ parts had fundamentally shifted.

If related actors didn’t read the script carefully or signed the contract without reading it at all… they would regret it later. The waters of the entertainment industry are deep, and one must be vigilant not to drown.

It was still early, so Lu Yiyao, worried Yao Hong might not be up yet, decided to sit in the living room and watch TV for over an hour.

Initially, just to pass the time, he unexpectedly saw Ran Lin’s advertisement.

On the screen, Ran Lin appeared disheveled, unsuccessfully wooing a goddess, then washing his hair and transforming dramatically, looking incredibly handsome with a guitar.

Lu Yiyao curiously furrowed his brows, trying to discern from the brief footage whether Ran Lin was pretending or actually knew how to play the guitar.

Unfortunately, the scene flashed too quickly, and the loud BGM interfered with Lu Yiyao’s judgment.

After pondering, Lu Yiyao searched for Miya’s latest men’s shampoo on his phone, then sent a screenshot of the bottle to Li Tong—[Buy me a bottle of this shampoo and bring it to me when we go to Shanghai the day after tomorrow.]

There was no reply; the vacationing assistant was probably still sleeping soundly.

Lu Yiyao wasn’t in a hurry and put down his phone, continuing to watch the morning news.

Finally, at 8 a.m., Lu Yiyao muted the TV and called Yao Hong. When she picked up, he got straight to the point. “Hong Jie, there’s a problem with the script.”

Yao Hong had only read a few pages of the script last night before being too tired to continue. She planned to read it this morning but was alarmed by her artist’s call. “What problem?”

Lu Yiyao said, “The part for Fang Xian is not right.”

Yao Hong was startled, thinking she had misheard. “Fang Xian?”

“Yes,” Lu Yiyao said. “Fang Xian and Tang Jingyu are both male leads, so their parts should be roughly equal. But in the final draft you gave me yesterday, Fang Xian’s part is nowhere near Tang Jingyu’s. Judging from this script, Fang Xian is more like a secondary male lead, nowhere close to the primary.”

Yao Hong asked, “Did they change the main storyline? Did they alter the plot?”

Lu Yiyao replied, “The main storyline remains the same, and the plot hasn’t changed, but Tang Jingyu and Zhao Buyao’s romantic scenes are heavily emphasized. Overall, Tang Jingyu is the male lead, Zhao Buyao the female lead, and Fang Xian just comes in third.”

Yao Hong asked, “Are you sure?”

Lu Yiyao confirmed. “I spent all night reading the script; there’s no mistake.”

There was a pause on the other end before Yao Hong slowly said, “Yu Dong won’t play a supporting role to you, let alone a tertiary character.”

“That’s what worries me.” Lu Yiyao sighed. “Yu Dong will explode seeing this script. He’ll either refuse to act and won’t sign the contract, leaving the production to find someone else, or he’ll force them to revert to the original double male lead setup.”

On the surface, these changes didn’t seem to affect Lu Yiyao, who played Tang Jingyu, much. His scenes weren’t reduced, nor was he the one demoted from first to third. But Yu Dong’s uncertainty would lead to script uncertainty, which in turn would affect the overall production. Lu Yiyao had to be extra cautious. Yao Hong was even more prudent than Lu Yiyao in this regard.

“Here’s what we’ll do.” Yao Hong deliberated for a moment before telling Lu Yiyao. “I’ll find out what’s going on as soon as possible. I’ll have news for you by this afternoon.”

Lu Yiyao trusted Yao Hong’s connections. “Okay.”

With his mind preoccupied, Lu Yiyao had no interest in anything else and buried himself in the script again. Though Yao Hong said she’d contact him in the afternoon, she actually called just after noon.

“The script change was ordered by the investors?” Lu Yiyao wasn’t too surprised, having met the art-loving investor. It made sense for someone who had spent money wanting a say in the creative process. He just didn’t expect the changes to be so drastic.

“Yes, the investor wanted to highlight the love story, so the script you see now emphasizes the male and female leads, shifting away from the double male lead concept,” Yao Hong said, accustomed to such industry maneuvers.

Lu Yiyao still felt the changes were too arbitrary, considering the collective effort that went into the script. “Did the director and screenwriter have no say? With Director Chen’s and Song Mang’s experience, they should have some influence, right?”

“Director Chen is a seasoned veteran at this; he sees right through these things. Song Meng did make a fuss; he even slammed the table with the investors, but it was no use. Art always has to bow to capital, so in the end, they had to revise the script as told.”

“So, the script we have now is definitely the final version?” Lu Yiyao’s primary concern remained this issue.

“Definitely the final version.” Yao Hong assured him, then added with a nuanced tone, “So, Yu Dong has definitely decided not to act.”

“Of course.” Lu Yiyao sighed. “If I were Yu Dong, I’d be furious seeing such a script.”

Before finishing his sentence, Lu Yiyao suddenly remembered Ran Lin mentioning seeing Zhang Beichen during the audition and asked Yao Hong, “Since Yu Dong’s out, who’s playing Fang Xian. Zhang Beichen?”

“How did you know Zhang Beichen wanted that role… Oh right, you guys have a WeChat group.” Yao Hong answered her own question, not thinking much of it. “Zhang Beichen definitely won’t get the role; he just signed another drama and doesn’t have the schedule.”

“Just signed?”

“Yes, just a few days off. If he had signed a bit later, he might have had a chance. It’s just bad luck.”

Yao Hong and Lu Yiyao both understood that no matter how much worse the other drama was compared to <Sword of Fallen Flowers> Zhang Beichen couldn’t possibly breach his contract for this one. No production would work with an actor with a history of contract violations. Zhang Beichen, no matter how regretful, had no choice but to accept it. To put it nicely, it was just a matter of not being destined for the role.

“Anyway, I might as well tell you.” Yao Hong initially didn’t want to mention it, but considering the two might communicate privately, she didn’t see the need to be secretive with her own artist. “The director and screenwriter are leaning towards having Ran Lin take over Fang Xian. The investors haven’t agreed yet; it depends on whether Ran Lin’s team can do a good job.”

Caught off guard by this unexpected development, Lu Yiyao was at a loss. “Ran Lin playing Fang Xian? Then who’s playing Xu Chongfei?”

“That’s for the production to worry about. It’s definitely easier to find a male third lead than a second, especially with just over three months to shooting. Most well-known actors with a bit of popularity are already booked,” Yao Hong said, then, sensing something odd in Lu Yiyao’s tone, asked, “You’re not happy with Ran Lin playing Fang Xian?”

Lu Yiyao was taken aback and quickly clarified, “No, I’m just… surprised.”

Yao Hong understood. “Looks like he didn’t tell you either.”

Lu Yiyao had no response.

Yao Hong didn’t know what to say. She had always thought of Lu Yiyao as a smart and insightful artist, but whenever Ran Lin was involved, his IQ and EQ seemed to plummet off a cliff. That airport banner must have been dipped in a magic potion.

“Anyway, that’s the situation. The script won’t change anymore. You’re firmly the male lead, which is good for you. If you see no problem, I’ll arrange to sign the contract tomorrow. They’ve been waiting for confirmation.”

“I have no issues,” Lu Yiyao said about the script and contract, but regarding Ran Lin…

After hanging up, Lu Yiyao immediately called Ran Lin. Ran Lin was also reading the script at the time, mainly focusing on Xu Chongfei. He noted the significant increase in the romantic storyline between Tang Jingyu and Zhao Buyao and the quiet reduction in Fang Xian’s part, but it didn’t deeply impact him.

Then, the phone rang.

It was noon, and Ran Lin was still ordering takeout, but a hunch made him check the caller ID. Sure enough, it was “Teacher Lu”.

“Hello?” Ran Lin didn’t think he sounded different, but to others, his voice already seemed to be floating with excitement.

“It’s me, Lu Yiyao.” Teacher Lu had also learned to introduce himself first.

Ran Lin chuckled. “Yeah, I know. Although you still picked a time when I’m ordering food, I checked the caller ID this time.”

Lu Yiyao was exasperated with his timing, but he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. He quickly became serious, with a hint of complaint only he was aware of. “I’m here to congratulate you again on Fang Xian.”

Ran Lin was confused. “Ah? What about Fang Xian?”

Lu Yiyao frowned, feeling doubly hurt by the other’s feigned ignorance. “Aren’t you changing from Xu Chongfei to Fang Xian?”

Ran Lin was baffled. “Who told you that? How do I not know about this? Besides, isn’t Yu Dong playing Fang Xian? I can’t possibly displace him even if I struggle for another five years.”

Lu Yiyao: “……”

Something seemed off again.

Lu Yiyao swallowed nervously, losing confidence. “You don’t know that the script changed from double male leads to a male and female lead, and that Yu Dong has already refused the role?”

Ran Lin: “I just received the script yesterday and am still reading it. Indeed, there are changes to Fang Xian’s role, but it doesn’t concern me much, so I didn’t pay much attention.”

Lu Yiyao: “So you’re also unaware of the director and screenwriter’s intention to have you play Fang Xian?”

Ran Lin: “Really, me, play, Fang, Xian?!”

Lu Yiyao: “……”

Clearly, Ran Lin was truly unaware.

Lu Yiyao silently sighed, feeling a sense of déjà vu.

First, Ran Lin had no idea about Yu Dong rejecting the role.

Second, Ran Lin was also unaware of the director and screenwriter’s preference for him to play Fang Xian.

Third, as the male lead of the drama, he again recklessly made a call, leading to another awkward situation. What should he do now?

“Why do you always bring me good news these days? Are you a harbinger of joy?”

“……Yes, we’re friends, after all. I must inform you of any news immediately!”

Ran Lin, the little dove of love and peace!

“Now I understand why my agent has been stalling on the contract. She was worried about any unforeseen changes. So, that’s the reason.” Combining the information provided by Lu Yiyao, Ran Lin was finally able to piece everything together. However, he then asked, “Are you sure the director and screenwriter prefer me? What about Zhang Beichen? He auditioned for Fang Xian.”

“He has already signed another drama,” Lu Yiyao informed truthfully.

Ran Lin, as surprised as Lu Yiyao had been earlier, responded, “That was quick?”

Lu Yiyao: “We earn our money daily. An open schedule even for a day is a loss.”

Ran Lin: “We…we?”

Lu Yiyao: “Cough. A slip of the tongue. I meant ‘us’, yes, ‘us.’”

Ran Lin laughed. “Alright, as a small-time actor, I won’t pretend to be a big shot in front of Teacher Lu.” After saying this, he sighed softly.

Lu Yiyao, hearing the truth in his tone, asked curiously, “What’s wrong?”

Ran Lin pondered for a moment, then said honestly, “While it’s indeed good news, I’ve been immersing myself in the character of Xu Chongfei ever since I started fighting for this role. Suddenly being told I might switch to Fang Xian…”

Lu Yiyao chuckled. “This is the first time I’ve seen someone worried about going from a third lead to a second lead.”

Ran Lin tried to explain his thoughts and concerns. “It’s not that. It’s just that Fang Xian is more unruly and has a stronger personality compared to Xu Chongfei. He has more inner conflicts, and I worry I might not be able to handle it.”

Lu Yiyao understood but didn’t fully relate. “It’s all acting. Whether you play Xu Chongfei or Fang Xian, just adapt accordingly. The role is a role; more screen time is what truly matters. I know the character of the third lead is more likable, but no matter how likable, with less screen time and fewer scenes, your presence will always be overshadowed. That’s why everyone fights to be the lead.”

Ran Lin: “But I’m already in character. Sometimes, when I look in the mirror, I feel like I am Xu Chongfei. It’s hard to detach from that emotional investment in a role.”

Lu Yiyao: “Is it really that magical…?”

“Don’t you ever feel that way?” Ran Lin earnestly described. “When you’re deeply invested in a character, you feel like you are them, and they are you. It’s hard to completely separate the two.”

Lu Yiyao: “……”

He hadn’t experienced such a phenomenon and felt it was too complex. But admitting that seemed unprofessional.

Why does he always end up in these tricky situations during calls with Ran Lin?

The mainland star was puzzled.

Fortunately, Ran Lin, entangled in various worries, didn’t demand a professional response from his friend and continued, “And if I end up playing Fang Xian, what about Zhang Beichen…”

Lu Yiyao clarified. “You don’t need to worry about that. If Zhang Beichen hadn’t signed another drama, the role might have been his. But since he did, you have this opportunity. It’s fair competition. No one owes anyone anything.”

Ran Lin was silent for a while, then sincerely said, “Yeah, I understand. Thank you.”

Lu Yiyao felt a sense of guilt as if he was wielding a big sword, and the other welcomed him with a warm face, offering tea and even making a sheath for his sword, snugly fitting it in.

“No need to thank me. We’re friends.” Lu Yiyao couldn’t think of anything new to say and had to use the line again.

Ran Lin, feeling warmth in his heart, responded, “Yeah, friends.”

With different emotions, the two hung up the phone.

Lu Yiyao leaned back in his chair, covered his face with the thick script, and vowed to think thrice… no, thirty times before calling Ran Lin again!

Ran Lin, holding his still-warm phone, immediately contacted Wang Xi.

When Wang Xi received Ran Lin’s call, she was eating watermelon, cutting it into pieces with a fork. Hearing that Ran Lin might play Fang Xian, the fork dropped back into the bowl with a clang.

“Really? Is the news reliable?” Wang Xi asked in shock.

“Lu Yiyao told me, so it should be.” Ran Lin wasn’t sure either, which was why he reached out to Wang Xi.

Wang Xi quickly realized it must be news from Yao Hong.

This was almost certain, given Yao Hong’s extensive network in the industry, deeper and stronger than hers. And with Lu Yiyao being the lead actor of the drama, Yao Hong would certainly pay more attention to major role changes.

However, having her artist bring her the news was slightly annoying.

And Lu Yiyao was too quick to speak; if Yao Hong knew, she would be worried too.

“Focus on the script for now, whether it’s Xu Chongfei or Fang Xian. Just read both if you have time. If there’s really a role change, there should be news in the next few days.”

“Alright.”

………

As it turned out, Yao Hong’s information was reliable. Within a couple of days, Wang Xi confirmed the news through various channels. However, the reason the production team hadn’t informed them was that the investor hadn’t given the green light yet.

Fang Xian, though not the male lead, was still an important character, and the investor wasn’t confident in letting Ran Lin play the role.

Money always comes first, even for those who pursue art.

Not one to sit idly by, Wang Xi immediately leveraged all her connections upon confirming the intentions of the director and screenwriter, eventually securing a dinner meeting with the investor.

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

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Chapter 34

The eighth episode of <National First Love Drifting Story> was delayed by a week and only aired on April 11^th.

By then, Lu Yiyao’s workload had returned to normal. Although there were no more back-to-back schedules, his agenda was still fully booked. By the time he remembered to watch the grand finale of the show, it was already after the Labor Day holiday.

That day, a spring rain had just ended, injecting a touch of coolness into the continuously rising temperatures. Beijing rarely saw a blue sky, and the leaves on the trees lining the streets were washed a bright, verdant green, swaying gently in the lazy sunlight.

Lu Yiyao opened all the windows of his apartment, letting the cross breeze blow through, clearing away the haze of the entire winter, and making his mood feel refreshed and clear.

If one were to remove the sandstorms and the lingering chill, only considering the gentle rain and the refreshing air as the standard for spring, then Beijing’s spring always arrives late and leaves early, heartbreakingly brief.

Fortunately, Lu Yiyao was able to steal a moment of leisure in this fleeting season.

“The biggest feeling from the whole season is that the interaction between people is a very wonderful thing…”

On the TV screen in the living room, Lu Yiyao sat talking, apparently facing the director, but the camera only showed Lu Yiyao and the program’s logo backdrop behind him.

On the screen was Lu Yiyao from a month and a half ago, and on the sofa outside the screen was the present Lu Yiyao.

Perhaps because he had been cooped up in the media room lately, watching the program in the afternoon sunlight felt quite nice.

“One sentence for each person… Xia Xinran is like a little sun, always burning brightly, enjoying himself and warming others; Zhang Beichen, youthful and vibrant, I think he’s the most like a campus first love among us; Gu Jie, a tough guy, it’s a pity this season didn’t have real-life CS or tactical-style games; otherwise, he would have been unbeatable; Ran Lin… He’s someone who makes you feel comfortable being around.”

The footage abruptly stopped, and the screen seamlessly switched to Xia Xinran—

“My biggest feeling is that I wish I could participate in more shows like this. We got to visit many places I usually wouldn’t go to and made good friends. It’s really hard to have such opportunities with our busy daily work schedules…”

Wait.

Lu Yiyao narrowed his eyes. If he remembered correctly, he praised Ran Lin more than just once. Even if they couldn’t use everything, at least they could have edited a highlight! Keeping only the first sentence was too simple and crude. He felt he spoke more expressively later, with many golden quotes…

“One sentence for each person. Uh, I have to think about it…”

The camera shifted to Ran Lin, who looked as serious as a graduate student in an interview.

Lu Yiyao unconsciously sat up straighter, perking up his ears.

“Gu Jie is always full of energy, making people feel motivated just by looking at him; Zhang Beichen is very gentle and accommodating, making it very easy to get along with him; Xia Xinran has the heart of a child… Lu Yiyao, um, he’s serious, responsible, and committed. He’s very sincere and open-hearted with friends… Yes, he gives off a sense of righteousness…”

Seemingly realizing his commentary was a bit odd, Ran Lin in the camera couldn’t help but chuckle.

In front of the TV, Lu Yiyao’s feelings were mixed.

Ran Lin was indeed praising him, and it was evident from his tone and demeanor, very earnestly.

But a sense of righteousness… Where did that impression come from? He’s not Justice Bao*!

*A Chinese politician during the reign of Emperor Renzong in China’s Song Dynasty. During his twenty-five years in civil service, Bao was known for his honesty and uprightness, with actions such as impeaching an uncle of Emperor Renzong’s favorite concubine and punishing powerful families.

As the program neared its end, it began flashing back to all the group photos from the journey.

Cycling in Guilin, watching pandas in Sichuan, building coconut leaf shelters in Sanya, playing in amusement parks in Shanghai, dune bashing in Dubai, modeling in France, encountering elephants in Thailand, witnessing the Northern Lights in Iceland…

The scrolling credits were filled with inspiring quotes, some of which touched Lu Yiyao’s heart—

They were adapting—

They were growing—

They were understanding each other—

They were accommodating each other—

They didn’t encounter another version of themselves in the world—

But these interesting companions with diverse characters—

Created a colorful world amidst laughter and tears…

“Should I ask about it on Weibo?” As the program ended and the TV returned to the on-demand interface, Lu Yiyao switched between WeChat and Weibo, undecided.

A month ago, he asked about a brand advertisement in his comment, but it sank without a trace, receiving no reply from Ran Lin.

Busy with work, he had almost forgotten about it, but watching the final episode just now brought back the memory.

It wasn’t a big deal, but for Lu Yiyao, it felt like an unresolved issue. So, whenever he thought about it, he would ponder for a few minutes.

“Li Tong…” Lu Yiyao called his assistant, who was packing in the guest room.

Today was the last day of Yao Hong’s 24-hour surveillance order. Given Lu Yiyao’s good performance over the past month, showing no signs of a second fainting incident, assistant Li Tong, the supervisor, could finally step down.

Hearing the call, the young assistant dashed out. “Lu Ge, what’s up?”

Lu Yiyao thought for a moment and asked, “If you were a star with a million fans, and another star left a comment on your Weibo, would you see it?”

Assistant Li was no stranger to playing the role of a social media celebrity. He confidently answered this hypothetical scenario. “You should be able to see it because usually fans will push the celebrity’s comment to the top, making it the hottest comment. So as long as they enter their own Weibo homepage and click on the comments under that post, they will see it at first glance.”

“What if they don’t enter their own Weibo but just check the latest messages directly on the app’s homepage?”

“Then all comments are sorted by update time indiscriminately, and yours would definitely be drowned in tens of thousands of other comments.”

“Makes sense. Alright, continue packing.”

“Okay, call me if you need anything, Lu Ge.”

Watching Li Tong disappear behind the guest room door, Lu Yiyao belatedly realized…

[Your comment would definitely be drowned in tens of thousands of other comments.]

Your comment?

How did the assistant know he was the one wanting to leave a comment? Couldn’t he be the one receiving the comment?

Ding-dong—

The intercom at the entrance suddenly rang, signaling a visitor waiting downstairs to be let into the building.

Lu Yiyao rarely had visitors at his home, except for Yao Hong.

But due to Lu Yiyao’s personal habits, Yao Hong rarely came over directly unless there was something important.

As he was wondering, Li Tong had already sprinted to the intercom. Without waiting to answer, he turned to Lu Yiyao and reported, “It’s Hong Jie.”

As expected.

Lu Yiyao felt reassured, and Li Tong had already answered the call and opened the door for Yao Hong.

Soon, there was a knock on the door. Li Tong, who was guarding the entrance, immediately opened it. Yao Hong nodded at him, changed into slippers, and entered the living room. Without even sitting down, she stated her purpose. “The cast list for <Sword of Fallen Flowers> has been drafted. I’ve brought it for you to see.”

Lu Yiyao looked at his agent, who had rushed over, a bit puzzled. “You could have just sent it to my phone. There was no need to make a special trip.”

Yao Hong didn’t respond but instead hurriedly took out the A4 paper with the provisional cast list from her bag and handed it to Lu Yiyao. “Just take a look.”

Lu Yiyao took the list, somewhat clueless. The first thing he saw was his own name, and below his name, playing the role of Fang Xian…

“Yu Dong? He’s playing Fang Xian?” Lu Yiyao was genuinely surprised this time, looking at Yao Hong as if to confirm the truth of this information.

Yu Dong was a few years older than him and had become famous quite early. He was now a solid movie actor and rarely filmed TV dramas, let alone a double male lead drama.

A double male lead, to put it nicely, has two protagonists, but where there is a main plot, there is inevitably a focus. Take <Sword of Fallen Flowers> as an example. The so-called double male lead means that the roles of Tang Jingyu and Fang Xian are roughly equal in status, with roughly equal screen time. But ultimately, the story revolves around Tang Jingyu, starting with the destruction of the Tang Clan, and ending with Tang Jingyu giving up on revenge and retiring from the martial world. From beginning to end, Tang Jingyu is the soul that drives the story forward. No matter how significant Fang Xian’s role is, the inherent “protagonist feel” of the story remains indelible.

Yu Dong being willing to share the “male lead” title with him and being the slightly lesser of the two double leads was incredible.

“There’s no need to overreact. If Chen Qizheng and Song Mang can come down from the big screen, so can Yu Dong. Filming movies isn’t as profitable as TV dramas. Wanting both prestige and real money, these movie-level TV dramas are truly rare.”

“But Yu Dong is more famous than me.”

“But his popularity isn’t as high as yours.”

Lu Yiyao had no reply.

In an era where ratings reign supreme, whoever brings in the viewership is the boss. It’s both very realistic and very harsh.

He understood this principle, but he was just a bit worried about the future cooperation.

He had dealt with Yu Dong a few times. Yu Dong was talented but proud. He didn’t seem like someone who would willingly share the double male lead role with him.

Lu Yiyao wasn’t overly committed to the art of acting, but he hoped for a harmonious relationship with his work partners.

Seeing Lu Yiyao’s thoughts drifting further away, Yao Hong sighed helplessly.

Yu Dong wasn’t the point.

“Forget about Yu Dong and look further down.” Finally losing patience, Yao Hong spoke to bring Lu Yiyao back from his daydreaming.

Below Fang Xian was Xu Chongfei.

And the actor for Xu Chongfei… Ran Lin?!

Lu Yiyao suddenly looked up, his eyes widening at Yao Hong, much larger than when he saw Yu Dong’s name.

Yao Hong was satisfied with his reaction, smiling faintly. “Surprised, aren’t you?”

Of course, he was surprised.

But in that shock… there was also a bit of happiness?

Yao Hong waited for her artist to express his opinion. Left waiting, she only saw a dumbfounded, surprised face and was speechless. “Why don’t you speak?”

Lu Yiyao blinked, coming back to his senses, and said with emotion, “This is really…”

Yao Hong waited with bated breath.

“…Life is full of unexpected encounters.”

Yao Hong almost choked.

Whether happy or disgusted, there should be a clear attitude. This kind of philosophical exclamation was just absurd.

“What do you really think?” Yao Hong stopped guessing and asked directly. “This is not the final list, which means, apart from Yu Dong, if you think anyone else is inappropriate, you can bring it up. There’s room for negotiation with the production team.”

Lu Yiyao froze at her words.

Yao Hong was asking him what he thought, and he wanted to ask the same question. “Hong Jie, what do you mean by that?”

Yao Hong calmly observed Lu Yiyao’s expression, and after a long while, she finally accepted the reality—her artist was genuinely asking, and he had no issue with the draft list.

No, he even hesitated about collaborating with Yu Dong in the future, but faced with Ran Lin’s name, he was as warm as spring.

Even someone as good-natured as Yao Hong wanted to crack open her artist’s head to see what was inside.

“We’ve always been straightforward with each other, and today is no exception.” Yao Hong sighed, trying to keep her tone gentle, like she was negotiating. “I think it’s best not to act with Ran Lin.”

Lu Yiyao’s expression turned serious. He pursed his lips and was silent, but his slightly furrowed brows indicated he was listening carefully.

Yao Hong continued, “Ran Lin previously used you for publicity and clout-chasing, there’s no doubt about that. Including his participation in the reality show later, wasn’t it also to continue the hype? Yes, the show later changed its style to brotherly love, and his team stopped the hype, but whether you and Ran Lin are marketed as CPs or good brothers, you’ve already appeared together too many times. If you work together on a TV drama, even if his team doesn’t intend to bind you, you two will inevitably be linked together in and out of the show. The production team, audience, and media will tie you together. For Ran Lin, being seen as friends or even an on-screen CP is great, but this type of audience perception doesn’t help your career much.”

Lu Yiyao pondered for a long while, then squinted slightly. “You mean Ran Lin wants to be in this drama because of me, just like the variety show?”

Yao Hong shook her head, objectively analyzing. “This kind of opportunity, even without you, he would definitely want. But with you, it’s even better. Who wouldn’t want more benefits?”

Lu Yiyao fell silent, lowering his gaze, deep in thought.

Yao Hong patiently waited, believing that Lu Yiyao would understand the pros and cons. A male-male CP is a double-edged sword. It attracts fans quickly, but the risk is high. If something goes wrong with one of them, the other has nowhere to turn. Given Lu Yiyao’s current resources and prospects for development, there was no need for him to wade into these murky waters.

The living room fell into a subtle silence.

Fortunately, the afternoon sun was bright enough, and the breeze continued to flutter the curtains, preventing the atmosphere from becoming too awkward.

Li Tong, originally planning to fetch water, sensed the serious tone of the conversation and wisely retreated into the guest room, continuing to struggle with his luggage.

After some time, Lu Yiyao finally looked up and said, “Hong Jie, I remember you saying that Director Chen is very strict about acting. Since he has chosen Ran Lin for the third male lead, it must be a recognition of Ran Lin’s acting skills rather than just the potential to generate hype with me as the lead.”

Yao Hong didn’t expect that, after so much thought, Lu Yiyao would end up defending Ran Lin, and she became a bit anxious. “If someone has good acting skills and can also create buzz, no director will refuse them. The objective situation is clear. You and Ran Lin are like two buckets of water at different levels. Your level is high, his is low. As long as there’s a connection between you, whether it’s in variety shows, dramas, or anything else, it will always be your water flowing towards him. Do you understand?”

“So, replacing him with someone else means they won’t ride on my popularity?” Lu Yiyao felt his agent was stuck in a logical fallacy. “Think about it, Hong Jie. Before I knew Ran Lin, did the actresses I worked with refrain from creating hype? According to your bucket theory, does it mean I can’t work with anyone who has less popularity than me?”

Yao Hong was speechless.

Lu Yiyao sighed lightly, trying to soften his tone, knowing Yao Hong meant well. He didn’t want her to feel like they were arguing, but he wanted to express his true thoughts. “Hong Jie, Ran Lin earned this role himself. Given his status, it must not have been easy for him to get this role. If I just dismiss it with one word, it’s not what friends do.”

Yao Hong looked at her artist, saying meaningfully, “If he considered you a friend, you wouldn’t have found out about his participation from the preliminary list.”

“Maybe he didn’t expect to pass the audition.” Lu Yiyao tried to find a reasonable explanation.

Yao Hong shook her head with a “you’re too naive” expression of resignation. “With Wang Xi’s capabilities, she would have gotten the preliminary list even earlier than us. If, as you say, Ran Lin was afraid of not passing the audition, now that it’s over, why hasn’t he informed you?”

“He has no obligation to inform me…” Lu Yiyao was still defending Ran Lin.

“But you said you’re friends.” Yao Hong felt like asking Ran Lin for the formula for a memory-erasing potion.

Lu Yiyao fell silent.

Just as Yao Hong thought he had finally seen reason, he suddenly shook his head gently.

It was light, slow, but firm.

“Hong Jie, if the production team and director reject Ran Lin for other reasons, I won’t interfere. But on my part, I won’t harm him. If you insist on telling the production team that I don’t want Ran Lin to play this role…” Lu Yiyao spoke slowly but forcefully. “I will really be angry.”

For the first time in her life, Yao Hong was threatened by her own artist.

And with the tactic of “I will be angry”, something a kindergarten child would use.

And yet, Yao Hong was swayed by it.

That’s why they say spoiling a child is a disease, and it’s incurable.

“Fine. I’ve said what I had to, whether it should be said or not. If you get taken advantage of again later, don’t complain.”

“Okay.” Lu Yiyao smiled. “I’ll just shake it off.”

Yao Hong rolled her eyes at him, wondering how much pleasure Lu Yiyao derived from persuading her, as now his eyes and eyebrows were full of joy.

Having reached this point, what more could Yao Hong say? She could only look ahead. “In at most half a month, the final script and contract will be sent to us.”

Lu Yiyao said, “Filming starts in September. Time is indeed tight.”

“No choice. I heard the investors have various modification suggestions. Song Mang is going crazy,” Yao Hong said. “But the location and start date are set, and all the actors’ schedules have been coordinated according to the shooting time. The investors probably have a sense of this, so they won’t be too unreasonable.”

Having moved past the issue with Ran Lin, Yao Hong and her artist’s conversation became more relaxed. But there wasn’t much left to talk about. After discussing various trivial matters, Yao Hong stood up to leave.

After seeing Yao Hong off, Lu Yiyao was far from calm.

Despite his assertive and clear stance while talking to Yao Hong, contemplating the matter of “Why didn’t Ran Lin inform him” was quite tormenting.

And the more he thought about it, the more uncertain he became, the more guilty he felt, the more chaotic his thoughts, the more his mind was filled with Yao Hong’s hypothetical “If he really considered you a friend.”

The most annoying thing in the world is ‘if’.

It gives you many answers but never marks the correct one.

Then just go and ask directly.

After sitting on the sofa in the living room and thinking for ten minutes, Lu Yiyao decided to adopt a straightforward approach.

Feeling inexplicably nervous, Lu Yiyao dialed Ran Lin’s number for the first time.

After a musical interlude, the call was answered on the other side.

“Hello.”

Ran Lin’s voice was polite and courteous, and maybe it was an illusion, but it sounded a bit… soft and mellow?

“Cough,” Lu Yiyao cleared his throat before saying. “Hello.”

There was a pause on the other end, then the question, “Who is this?”

Lu Yiyao was speechless, his budding brotherly feelings cooling down considerably. “You didn’t see the caller ID?”

After a few seconds of silence on the other end, the tone suddenly rose. “Lu Yiyao?!”

Lu Yiyao held his forehead. Why did the voice on the other end sound not so joyful but a little… scared?

“Why are you calling me?” Ran Lin, having confirmed the caller’s identity, finally spoke clearly. “I just ordered a meal. I thought it was the delivery.”

The fear was gone—Lu Yiyao was relieved.

The softness was gone too—Lu Yiyao felt a bit disappointed.

The meal delivery… Lu Yiyao endured.

“I’m calling to congratulate you.” Lu Yiyao didn’t beat around the bush. “<Sword of Fallen Flowers>.”

“How did you know I auditioned for this drama?” The voice on the other end of the phone was filled with surprise, seemingly genuine. “But it’s not certain yet. You know, the competition for this drama was fierce. Xi Jie said the chances were slim, and just getting familiar with the director and making an impression was good enough.”

Lu Yiyao frowned, feeling that something was off and not just one thing.

Ran Lin: “Hello?”

Lu Yiyao: “You didn’t know you passed the audition?”

Ran Lin: “… Really?!”

Lu Yiyao: “You didn’t know?”

Ran Lin: “Xi Jie didn’t tell me. Could it be that she hasn’t received the news yet?”

Lu Yiyao: “Impossible, the preliminary cast list is already out. If nothing goes wrong, you’ll be Xu Chongfei.”

Ran Lin: “I need to process this. The happiness came too suddenly… Wait, how did you know about my audition?”

Lu Yiyao: “The preliminary list would, of course, be sent to me as well.”

Ran Lin: “Why would it be sent to you?”

Lu Yiyao: “I need to know who my co-stars are.”

Ran Lin: “…”

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone.

Then—

“You are the male lead in this drama?!”

Lu Yiyao sighed almost inaudibly. He had a feeling something was odd.

First, Ran Lin didn’t even know he had passed the audition.

Second, Ran Lin also didn’t know that he, Lu Yiyao, was the male lead of this drama.

Third, now the situation was awkward. What should he do?

“That’s great, we can act together!”

“…Yes, that’s what I called to tell you!”

Ran Lin must be an angel!

“What about Zhang Beichen? Did he make it?” The voice on the other end excitedly asked.

Lu Yiyao was confused. “Zhang Beichen?”

Ran Lin: “Yes, we auditioned on the same day. His role is Fang Xian. Did he pass?”

Lu Yiyao understood and said with a bit of regret, “On the preliminary list, Fang Xian is Yu Dong.”

There was silence on Ran Lin’s end.

Both understood that with Fang Xian being fixed as Yu Dong had nothing to do with the audition results. Yu Dong probably didn’t even audition, simply using his status to overshadow other contenders.

Regardless, getting the role of Xu Chongfei was an absolute joy for Ran Lin. He was too occupied to talk more with Lu Yiyao. “I have to call my agent right away. She’s also been waiting for the news. Can we talk later?”

Lu Yiyao wanted to say his agent probably already knew, but on second thought, this assumption was just something Yao Hong had mentioned without solid proof. If Ran Lin’s agent really knew, it made no sense for Ran Lin to be completely clueless.

“Hello?” Ran Lin sadly realized that Lu Yiyao’s wandering mind wasn’t limited to face-to-face interactions but also manifested during phone calls.

“Ah, okay, you go and contact your agent. See you later.”

After hanging up, Lu Yiyao spent a long time pondering why he had made the call and what he had said.

His mind had been blank since the end of the call.

The only thought left floating in the emptiness was—Ran Lin is poisonous, extremely poisonous.

Lu Yiyao, in his luxurious apartment, contemplated life, while Ran Lin, in his small apartment, was overjoyed.

A pie had fallen from the sky, landing right on his head. His happiness was indescribable.

“Xi Jie, I got the role of Xu Chongfei!” As soon as the call connected, Ran Lin couldn’t wait to share the news.

Wang Xi was startled, instinctively asking, “How did you know?”

Ran Lin, not thinking much of it, assumed Wang Xi had just received the news. With multiple sources confirming, the reality seemed more tangible. “So it’s true, I really passed?!”

“Yes.” Wang Xi went along, not wanting to explain why she hadn’t said anything, but she had to know where Ran Lin got his information. “Who told you?”

Caught up in sharing his joy, it wasn’t until then that Ran Lin’s heated brain started to cool down. But at this point, he could only tell the truth. “Well, Lu Yiyao.”

Wang Xi was shocked by the answer. “Lu Yiyao told you?!”

Ran Lin: “Yes, he just called.”

“What was his attitude?”

“He congratulated me.”

“…I congratulate you too.”

Wang Xi sat in her office chair, suddenly feeling the world was very surreal.

Was Lu Yiyao really just calling to congratulate him?

He should be. Otherwise, he could have secretly sabotaged Ran Lin without anyone knowing. Why bother calling to say all this?

But if he genuinely congratulated…

Then what had she been fretting over these past few days!

So while she was brainstorming ways to knock on doors and subtly probe Yao Hong for information, Ran Lin had already swiped his way in with the card handed to him by the homeowner!

“When did your relationship with Lu Yiyao get so good…”

“It’s not that great. We just got familiar while filming the variety show…” Ran Lin vaguely replied, quickly changing the subject. “Xi Jie, since you also have the list, do you know what’s going on with Yu Dong? Was he always the choice for Fang Xian?”

Wang Xi had heard a bit about this from her inside sources. She wasn’t too concerned about it, but since Ran Lin asked, she shared what she knew. “I heard Fang Xian was the hardest to decide, as the character has extreme psychological conflicts. From the beginning, investors and the director didn’t have a unified preference. After several auditions, although none completely satisfied the director, the general consensus leaned towards Zhang Beichen…”

“Then Yu Dong…”

“Came out of nowhere at the last minute. He didn’t audition, just directly replaced Zhang Beichen. Yu Dong’s acting is well-known, and his status is evident. He’s more than qualified for Tang Jingyu, let alone Fang Xian. Investors would be delighted.”

After finishing, Wang Xi sighed. “Fortunately, he set his sights on Fang Xian, not Xu Chongfei. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have had a chance.”

Ran Lin was still feeling sorry for Zhang Beichen, not quite catching Wang Xi’s words.

Thinking Ran Lin was scared by her words, Wang Xi quickly added, “Of course, he wouldn’t compete with you for the third male lead. Double male lead is already his bottom line.”

The imagined difficulties never arose, and things went even smoother than expected. Wang Xi, pleasantly surprised, didn’t know what to say, leaving only advice to cherish the opportunity and study the role carefully.

But on these two matters, Ran Lin had already given his 101%.

What Wang Xi said afterward didn’t really sink in for Ran Lin, as he had begun to retrospectively reflect, after calming down, on whether he had been too enthusiastic on the phone with Lu Yiyao.

If he remembered correctly, he seemed to have said, “That’s great, we can act together!” and his tone was unmistakably excited… Where is your reserve?!

What should he do?

Would Lu Yiyao overthink it?

Would he think Ran Lin was again trying to ride on his popularity?

Or even, discover his secret feelings?!

The more Ran Lin thought about it, the crazier he felt, almost compelled to call back and explain that his excitement was purely due to passing the audition and had nothing to do with acting alongside Lu Yiyao… Yeah, Lu Yiyao would definitely think he was a patient.

But then again, he was genuinely happy.

Just thinking about passing the audition brought a sense of elation and clarity to his heart.

Thinking about acting with Lu Yiyao made his heart slowly contract and then ooze honey from its crevices.

On a whim, Ran Lin opened his WeChat Moments, found that comment he had deliberately ignored, and mischievously replied, a month later—Miya Men’s Shampoo, all-natural, silicone-free, refreshing anti-dandruff, bringing back your vibrant youth.

……

“Lu Ge, I’m leaving now.” Li Tong, pulling his suitcase, stood at the entrance, looking back three steps at a time. “Take care of yourself. Don’t always stay up late in the media room.”

“Got it.” Lu Yiyao responded with a smile, feeling like he was seeing a male version of Yao Hong.

Li Tong waved and left with his suitcase.

On the way back to his rental, Li Tong recalled his month-long cohabitation experience with Lu Yiyao, his gossip heart surging, but with no one to confide in. He took out his phone and drafted a venting private message to a certain “confession” Weibo account. But after writing it, he felt it revealed too much of his boss’s privacy. Plus, perhaps because he typed each word so carefully, by the time he finished, his urge to vent seemed to have subsided, so he deleted the long message word by word—

[Hi XX Confession. I’m an assistant to a celebrity, the kind who carries bags and runs errands. My boss is a very famous male celebrity. He’s a really nice person, never puts on airs, and treats us staff with respect. But, I really think he’s a bit abnormal. First, he hangs up his drama photos all over the house—ancient and modern, close-ups and long shots, half-body, full-body, front, side, backlit, against the light—you name it. I feel like the whole room is staring at me. Second, he likes listening to vinyl records. Yes, the kind that only appears in movies—feels so retro. Third, he didn’t use his phone much before, but recently he’s become obsessed with it, always pulling out his phone to check something, then mumbling to himself. It’s really weird. Honestly, I really like this job, and I like my boss too. A kind and approachable boss is really hard to come by these days, but the longer I work with him, the more I feel…]

At the same time, in Lu Yiyao’s apartment.

The freshly showered mainland star picked up his phone for his daily check and unexpectedly saw new information in his WeChat Moments!

[Miya Men’s Shampoo, all-natural, silicone-free, refreshing anti-dandruff, bringing back your vibrant youth.]

No matter how Lu Yiyao looked at it, the last part of the slogan seemed awkward, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the manufacturer or Ran Lin’s own creation.

There was a sense of “If you don’t use this shampoo, just wait to age” in the curse.

But receiving a reply from Ran Lin was still comforting.

Lifting his phone, the mainland star talked to himself as usual, facing his friend’s profile picture. “You should check your Moments more often. Once a month is too infrequent…”

---

Kinky Thoughts:

Oh Yao Hong, if you pry open his brain to look inside, you’ll probably have a heart attack considering he’s about to get bent.

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

---

Chapter 33

Ran Lin didn’t see the reply until the second day and, after some thought, ultimately chose not to respond. In case he started talking to Lu Yiyao again, the feelings he had finally suppressed would definitely reignite. He would be the one suffering in the end, with no one to turn to.

Besides, a night had already passed. Whether he replied or not, he guessed the other person wouldn’t care much.

With this thought, Ran Lin felt refreshed and picked up the script again, immersing himself in the troubled inner world of Xu Chongfei.

Ran Lin secluded himself for three days. When Wang Xi came to pick him up, she was startled by Ran Lin’s dark circles and almost wanted to scold him.

“Lucky I came two hours early. If I had let you go like this, you should just play a corpse instead of a hero!”

In the nanny van, Ran Lin sat still for the makeup artist to work on him while obediently listening to his agent’s scolding.

The makeup artist, following Wang Xi’s instructions, applied light makeup, mainly to cover the dark circles, aiming for a natural look. As the makeup artist was finishing and Wang Xi’s rant was coming to an end, she finally calmed down and asked about the main issue. “How well have you grasped the character?”

“Don’t worry, Xi Jie,” Ran Lin confidently responded.

Wang Xi, rarely seeing Ran Lin so confident, asked with a hint of surprise, “Do you have a secret weapon?”

Ran Lin innocently looked at her. “What?”

Wang Xi, frustrated, asked, “Where’s your confidence coming from?”

“Didn’t you say to give 200% even if there’s only a 1% chance? I can’t control the probability of the opportunity, but 200%…” Ran Lin blinked slightly. “I think I can do it.”

Wang Xi narrowed her eyes, suddenly feeling that today’s Ran Lin seemed a bit unfamiliar, especially his eyes, which shone with unprecedented handsomeness.

Shaking her head to dispel the unrealistic illusion, Wang Xi thought it must be because she was too hopeful for Ran Lin to perform well today, unconsciously viewing him through an agent’s lens.

The audition was in a conference room of a star-rated hotel near the North Third Ring. According to Wang Xi, the main filming base in Hengdian had started setting up. Director Chen was very strict and supervised everything. He had specially taken a week off to return to Beijing to see the last group of actors audition. This round of auditions would decide everything, as per the investors’ strict rule for the director.

Wang Xi had her sources of information, and Ran Lin just needed to listen and remember.

“Oh right, you might meet Zhang Beichen later,” Wang Xi suddenly said on the way to the hotel.

Ran Lin, unprepared, asked foolishly, “Is he also auditioning for the third male lead?”

Wang Xi looked at him disdainfully. “What are you thinking? Of course, he’s the male lead. Have you ever seen someone who has played several leading roles go back to playing a third male lead?”

Ran Lin’s heart finally settled. Healthy competition, relying on one’s own abilities, he wasn’t afraid, but if possible, he still didn’t want to compete with friends.

But…

“Do the lead roles also need to audition for this drama?” Ran Lin was a bit surprised. Usually, for big productions, the male lead is chosen after considering various factors, and auditions aren’t that important—even the director has to consider the wishes of investors and the market.

Wang Xi explained. “Tang Jingyu doesn’t need to audition. The production team will decide personally. There’s still room for discussion for Fang Xian, so many people want to compete for it.”

As expected.

Ran Lin steadied himself, went through the audition script he knew by heart in his mind, and then realized that the third scene was a confrontation between Xu Chongfei and Fang Xian. He asked again, “Will Zhang Beichen act with me?”

Seeing Ran Lin finally catch on, Wang Xi didn’t hide it. “Possibly.”

Ran Lin complained a bit, “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“If I wasn’t afraid you’d be too surprised later and make a mistake, I wouldn’t have told you now,” Wang Xi said in a low voice, looking deeply into Ran Lin’s eyes. “Remember, what you need to do is focus on performing well, regardless of who you act with.”

Ran Lin calmed down oddly and nodded firmly.

Wang Xi sat back down and asked the driver, “How much longer?”

“About ten minutes,” the driver replied.

Wang Xi nodded, thought for a moment, then turned back to Ran Lin. “Since we still have time, tell me about your understanding of the character. The director will probably ask later.”

Ran Lin swallowed and, after a long pause, slowly shook his head.

Wang Xi was surprised. “Can’t do it?”

Ran Lin honestly confessed. “Yeah, can’t do it. If I talk about it, I’ll definitely cry, and the makeup will be ruined.”

Wang Xi had read the script and knew Xu Chongfei was indeed tragic, but she wondered. “Aren’t you getting into character too fast?”

Ran Lin lowered his eyes and, after a moment, looked up again with a burning gaze, as if it was no longer the semi-famous Ran Lin in his body but the noble and righteous young master of the Hidden Sword Tower. “I haven’t come out of it for these three days.”

Ran Lin was crazy.

Wang Xi didn’t know if this was good or bad, as she had never managed an actor so absorbed in their role. Liu Wanwan, however, was fascinated. The immersed Ran Lin’s handsomeness soared.

The car stopped at the hotel’s entrance. Ran Lin got out first, followed by Wang Xi and Liu Wanwan.

Today, Ran Lin wore a light camel-colored wool coat, looking clean, fresh, and maturely steady. Wang Xi dressed more soberly than usual, abandoning her favorite red, opting for black and white—sharp but not too eye-catching. Liu Wanwan was as plain as ever, following behind, carrying things.

The hotel corridor was carpeted and quiet. Approaching the conference room, they could faintly hear the sound of lines being recited inside.

Wang Xi stopped two meters away from the conference room door, signaling Ran Lin and Liu Wanwan to stop as well, and then took out her phone to make a call.

Soon, a girl in her late twenties appeared from inside. She had short hair, glasses, a sweatshirt, and jeans, and held a somewhat crumpled A4 paper that seemed to have a list printed on it.

The girl smiled upon seeing Wang Xi and then spoke in a low voice. “Are you here for the audition?”

Wang Xi nodded and whispered, “Ran Lin, scheduled for 10:30.”

The girl checked the list, quickly found Ran Lin’s name, and told Wang Xi. “Wait at the door for a while. I’ll call you when it’s over inside.”

Wang Xi nodded politely and watched the girl return to the conference room.

The heavy solid wood door closed again, and Wang Xi made a playful face at Ran Lin. Wang Xi rarely made such an expression, usually meaning she was helplessly amused and couldn’t get angry.

Ran Lin smiled, not minding it. Why does everyone in the circle want to be famous? Because fame means you might not need to audition, or even if you do, you don’t have to wait. Fame is like a green light in the industry. Take this movie, for example; there are people like him who desperately fight for a chance to audition, and there are those who sit at home and get handpicked by investors to be the lead.

Ran Lin envied this but was calm about it. Two months ago, he didn’t even have the chance to audition.

After waiting for about twenty minutes, the conference room door opened again. An actor about Ran Lin’s age came out with his agent. Ran Lin didn’t recognize him but had seen him on TV. However, he didn’t look as good in person as on TV, and his dejected expression now made him even less impressive.

Wang Xi and the other agent weren’t familiar, they just nodded to each other, and then the agent led his actor away. Before they got far, the girl from before stuck her head out of the door and said softly, “You can go in now.”

Wang Xi asked Liu Wanwan to wait at the door and patted Ran Lin on the shoulder, leading him into the conference room.

The conference room was large, and the table had been moved aside, leaving only a camera set up in the middle of the cleared space, apparently to record the auditions of all the actors.

Chen Qizheng, Song Mang, and a few others Ran Lin didn’t recognize sat in a row behind the table. From the moment Ran Lin entered, their gaze was fixed on him.

Director Chen Qizheng was around forty. He had a square face, a crew cut, and an unremarkable appearance. He wore a drab gray coat and sat in the middle of the row, inconspicuous, but if you looked into his eyes, you’d feel pressured.

By contrast, the screenwriter Song Mang was much more approachable. Probably because he was younger, around thirty, wearing black-framed glasses. Among the group, he was the most brightly dressed yet tastefully so, both stylish and energetic.

Song Mang’s world of martial arts in his scripts had the vitality of youth but also the depth of traditional martial arts. Ran Lin could see the vitality, but it was hard to associate the depth with such a person.

Perhaps this is the magic of screenwriters.

Wang Xi looked at Ran Lin, who was lost in thought, and helplessly pinched him from behind. Ran Lin reacted to the pain and immediately went forward to greet respectfully. “Hello, Director Chen, Screenwriter Song. I am Ran Lin, auditioning for the role of Xu Chongfei.”

Wang Xi sighed. Couldn’t you say a few flattering words?

Director Chen Qizheng had no expression, as if Ran Lin’s enthusiasm or lack thereof wouldn’t affect his stern face.

Song Mang still politely smiled, then said, “We have limited time. Let’s start.”

Wang Xi began to feel nervous. She had taken artists to auditions before, and usually, directors would give some face and make small talk. She had never encountered someone as stern as Chen Qizheng. Overall, she had a bad feeling.

Ran Lin saw Wang Xi step aside, clearing the middle space, and without wasting words, took off his woolen coat, wearing only the white knitted shirt inside. The white was strange—not pure white but tinged with a bit of blue. In terms of color, it was quite refreshing, but the style was really not outstanding—not ugly, but not particularly good-looking either.

Wang Xi, sitting in a corner chair, regretted not having Ran Lin change his shirt. Ran Lin, standing in the center, faced the director and screenwriter, but his eyes were not on them. Instead, he stared at the empty space in front of him as if a true brother was standing there.

Time passed by. The conference room was silent, except for the camera on the tripod. Ran Lin didn’t make any movement, just stared at the “brother” in front of him, his eyes slowly reddening.

“Tang Jingyu.” Ran Lin finally spoke, his voice suppressed with almost unbearable pain. “Fang Xian is our brother. We’ve exchanged hearts and lives. Didn’t you feel even a bit of hesitation when you used him?”

In the large conference room, no one responded, but the air seemed to turn bitter with “Xu Chongfei’s” questioning.

But Ran Lin could see and hear. He could see the wavering in the eyes of the “Tang Jingyu” opposite him, but he could also hear his cold words: No. It’s a blood feud, irreconcilable.

As soon as those words fell, Ran Lin raised his voice. “What does that have to do with Fang Xian? He always treated you as a brother!”

Tang Jing Yu: He is the son of Fang Huanzhi, so he is related.

“Tang Jingyu, you’re crazy. You are obsessed now; do you know that? Fine, if you want to kill Fang Xian, then kill me first!”

“Stop—” Director Chen Qizheng, who hadn’t said a word since entering, suddenly called cut.

Ran Lin’s chest heaved wildly, still not out of the intense emotions, and looked at the director with unsteady breathing and confusion. Song Mang also seemed puzzled, but his face didn’t show it.

Chen Qizheng didn’t explain. Just wrote a few words on some paper, then directly said to Ran Lin, “Next scene.”

The next scene was about being hurt by love. Completely different emotions from angrily questioning Tang Jingyu.

Ran Lin turned his back, breathing deeply, trying to adjust while comforting the tragic character Xu Chongfei in his mind.

Turning back to face the director, no, his partner, Ran Lin watched as “Tang Jingyu” slowly disappeared, and in a daze, a quirky, smiling girl, “Li’er”, a cute little thief he admired, became clear. She was the girl he liked.

Now, that girl put on an unfeeling face, wanting him to give up, so she said the cruelest things. She said: Xu Chongfei, I don’t like you. I already have someone I love.

Ran Lin looked blank, his lips slightly moving, as if he had something to say but didn’t know how to start. After a long time, he slowly said, “Tell me his name. Tell me, and I will give up.”

There was no resentment, no anger—only a magnanimous calmness, but a barely restrained hint of sadness.

Li’er: I can’t tell you, nor will I let you find him.

“Xu Chongfei” gave a bitter smile, his confusion turning into helplessness, and the atmosphere of sadness surged suddenly. “What kind of person do you think I am? If you really like him and think being with him makes you happier, I am willing to let you go.”

Li’er: You’re lying.

“Xu Chongfei” still smiled, but in his smile, in his eyes, there was an indissoluble love and sorrow. “I’m not lying to you, Li’er. I never knew what liking someone was from a young age. It was you who taught me that feeling. So now I also tell you, what I, Xu Chongfei, love is for your happiness. I will do anything that makes you happy, including letting you go.”

Li’er: So you’re really letting me go?

“Xu Chongfei” took a deep breath, gazing at the stars in the sky, as if his beloved girl was about to become one of those twinkling, yet distant stars.

Li’er didn’t speak and turned to leave.

“Xu Chongfei” suddenly called out to her. “Can I ask one last question?”

Li’er stopped, and after a long time, slowly turned halfway around.

“Xu Chongfei”, looking at her from a distance, spoke under the starry sky in a clear and bright voice. “You always tell me to let you go, but I have never restrained you. Have you ever thought, the one who really doesn’t want to let go of you, is not me, but your own heart?”

“Stop—”

Director Chen Qizheng spoke again, but this time, he waited until Ran Lin had finished all the lines of the scene.

Ran Lin stood in the middle, not looking at the director, only lowering his head, reorganizing his emotions. The next scene was the last words before death, without the anger of the first scene, without the deep affection of the second, only carrying the calmness in the face of death and good wishes for his brother.

Ah, this character is a saint.

“Let him come in,” Director Chen Qizheng suddenly said something seemingly unrelated.

Ran Lin looked up in confusion and saw Chen Qizheng speaking to the young girl who had notified them to come in. The girl, upon receiving the order, quickly went out and soon brought in someone who was supposed to audition half an hour later.

First came Agent Wu Xuefeng. Ran Lin always felt he had gained more weight. Then came Zhang Beichen.

Their eyes met, Ran Lin felt a bit awkward, but Zhang Bei Chen smiled naturally at him, obviously knowing he was auditioning. Zhang Beichen’s smile made Ran Lin’s awkwardness disappear, as if they were back to the times of shooting reality shows, naturally returning a smile to his partner.

Zhang Beichen and Wu Xuefeng also politely greeted the director and screenwriter. The screenwriter was as amiable as ever, the director as cold-faced as always.

‘So it’s not about fame,’ Ran Lin thought. ‘The lack of smiles must be Director Chen’s personal style.’

“Ran Lin… right,” Director Chen Qi Zheng suddenly said.

Ran Lin quickly nodded. “Yes, Director Chen, what can I do for you?”

Director Chen Qizheng glanced at him briefly, then looked back down at the script and said, “For the third scene, try it with Zhang Beichen. He’s playing Fang Xian.”

Ran Lin blinked in surprise and then softly agreed. “Okay.”

Zhang Beichen, without a word, took off his coat and decisively joined in.

Zhang Beichen wore a well-tailored shirt under his coat, with rolled-up sleeves, clean-cut, and handsome, with less youthful naivety and more of an elite vibe.

Ran Lin glanced at him.

Zhang Beichen understood, immediately knelt on one knee, extending his arm.

Ran Lin hesitated no longer and fell into the “friend’s” arms with a slap.

When two familiar people act together, it’s easy to break into laughter, especially in such a life-and-death parting. Ran Lin looked up into Zhang Beichen’s eyes and always felt there was a hint of laughter in them. Maybe Zhang Beichen wasn’t really smiling—it was just his own overthinking. But Ran Lin couldn’t control it.

Taking a deep breath, Ran Lin moved his gaze from Zhang Beichen’s eyes to the tip of his nose. From the perspective of others, even on camera, it would seem he was staring into the other’s eyes. So as long as his emotions were in place, there shouldn’t be any problem.

“Chongfei—” Zhang Beichen hugged him, suddenly shouting, his voice full of the sorrow of a friend’s impending departure.

The dying person, Ran Lin, made his voice weak and breathless. “I, I’m fine…”

“Stop!”

Zhang Beichen’s body shook, and the arm holding Ran Lin trembled.

Ran Lin quickly propped himself up with one hand.

Both of them stood up and looked at the director nervously, like two elementary school students facing their teacher.

Director Chen Qizheng stared at Ran Lin and said, “Xu Chongfei, I’ll give you one last chance. If you can’t look directly into Fang Xian’s eyes, then there’s no need to perform this scene. Do you understand?”

Director Chen Qizheng’s voice wasn’t loud, but the pressure was overwhelming.

Ran Lin gritted his teeth, held on, not avoiding his gaze, and nodded slowly and firmly.

Director Chen Qizheng threw his pen onto the table with a snap. “Again.”

Lying back in Zhang Beichen’s arms, Ran Lin closed his eyes, quickly discarded all distractions, and when he opened them again, the face above him was still Zhang Beichen, but the image in his mind was Fang Xian…

This time the director didn’t interrupt, watching coldly until the end, then said, “Okay.”

He then stopped looking at them, picked up his pen, and started scribbling on paper again.

Ran Lin was curious about what he was writing, but from his bold and commanding penmanship, he felt that even if he saw it, he might not understand it.

Ran Lin had tried three scenes, but Zhang Beichen only one. Now both stood in the middle, the atmosphere cooling down with the end of the performance. The director, furiously writing, showed no sign of looking up, making the air somewhat awkward.

Screenwriter Song Mang smiled at them and suddenly asked, “Can you talk about your understanding of the characters?”

Ran Lin and Zhang Beichen looked at each other; the latter whispered, “You go first.”

Whether speaking first or last, both had to speak, so Ran Lin didn’t refuse, took a deep breath, raised his head, and said, “Xu Chongfei is a saint.”

Song Mang was stunned.

Wang Xi was dumbfounded.

Even Director Chen Qizheng looked up, his usually deep eyes finally showing a bit of amusement.

Ran Lin continued, “But in the martial world, we need such a saint. He’s filial to his parents, loyal to his friends, and deeply loving to his lover. He, as a person, is the charm of the martial world. His upbringing as the young master of the Hidden Sword Tower has made his soul pure. He doesn’t have Tang Jingyu’s deep-seated hatred, doesn’t have Fang Xian’s inferiority of living in his brother’s shadow. He lives freely, easily, sincerely, and purely. Even when facing deceit and hurt, he can forgive with the greatest tolerance, but he’s not a blind good person. At critical moments, he has clear stances and will protect what he cherishes most with his life…”

“What do you think is the most cherished thing to him?” Song Mang narrowed his eyes, staring intently at Ran Lin.

“Loyalty and righteousness,” Ran Lin answered Song Mang. “Tang Jingyu and Fang Xian also value loyalty, but what they value is the loyalty among brothers and friends. Only Xu Chongfei values the greater righteousness of the world. He is the only one in this martial world who is willing to die for loyalty and righteousness. Therefore, his death can bring about reconciliation between Tang Jingyu and Fang Xian.”

Song Mang quietly looked at him, not speaking, with a smile that seemed to be thinking about something, or perhaps just finding it interesting.

“Uh…” Zhang Beichen hesitated to speak.

Song Mang turned his attention to him and nodded. “Go ahead.”

Zhang Bei Chen cleared his throat. “Fang Xian, in my view, is the most contradictory and pained character in this drama…”

……

After Zhang Beichen finished speaking, Song Mang didn’t ask further, and the director asked Ran Lin and Wang Xi to leave first. Ran Lin didn’t know if Zhang Beichen would have to act against the air like he did, just as he couldn’t see through the director’s cold expression whether it was usual or a sign of rejection.

“Xi Jie, do you think I stand a chance?” On the way back, Ran Lin, increasingly unsure, directly asked Wang Xi.

Unexpectedly, Wang Xi also couldn’t figure it out. “This director is famously idiosyncratic. Who knows what he’s thinking. But—” Wang Xi patted Ran Lin’s head, giving a rare praise. “You performed very well today. You impressed me.”

Ran Lin always felt Wang Xi’s pat on his head was like petting a dog, but hearing the praise, he didn’t mind. “Really? You really think I did well?”

Wang Xi looked at him with a mix of wonder and amusement, uncertain if she was mistaken. “Why are you so different on and off stage? When you act, you really have charm, but as soon as you’re off stage, you become timid again.”

Ran Lin laughed, playfully asking, “So do you like me being bold and imposing on stage, or do you like me being timid like this?”

Wang Xi narrowed her eyes, sizing him up, and corrected unceremoniously, “You weren’t bold and imposing on stage either!”

Ran Lin laughed out loud.

Wang Xi calmed down, thinking that perhaps she should plan Ran Lin’s acting career more seriously.

Liu Wanwan, listening to their conversation, felt a surge of sadness—she had eavesdropped on the whole process from outside, struggling with the door that wouldn’t open a crack. She was the most eager fan to see Ran Lin act!

……

Wang Xi received an “inside” call a month later, right on Labor Day.

“Xu Chongfei is preliminarily set to be Ran Lin. The list will be reported to the investors and the lead male actor this week. If both sides have no issues, it’s settled.”

This “inside” source was developed by Wang Xi through various connections after the audition. They didn’t have the power to make final decisions but could gather some intelligence.

“Really? Out of so many people, they chose Ran Lin?” Despite her expectations, Wang Xi was still incredulous.

“Yes, out of so many, the director chose two for the screenwriter to pick one, and the screenwriter chose Ran Lin.”

“Did they give a reason? Like phenomenal acting or something?”

“Sister, you’re thinking too much. There aren’t that many phenomenal performances.” The voice on the phone chuckled, adding, “But I think I heard him and the director mention something about Xu Chongfei’s favorite clothing color being moonlight white, as written in the script.”

Moonlight white?

Wang Xi couldn’t figure out the significance, and seeing the other side wanting to hang up, she quickly asked another question, “Is the lead male still Lu Yiyao?”

“Yes, it’s been settled for a long time. Unless he changes his mind in the next few days, the contract will be signed soon.”

“Why wait until now to sign the contract?”

“Probably want to see who the other actors are. Even the best scripts, without a solid cast, don’t have much persuasive power.”

“Alright, thank you.”

“Sister, don’t be so formal with me. We’re all on the same team. We’ll talk later.”

“Okay, I’ll treat you to a meal sometime.”

After hanging up, Wang Xi thought for a while, still unsure whether to let Yao Hong know in advance.

It was fine whether it worked out or not, but now it was just one step away from success. If the investors, director, and screenwriter all approved, but the lead male actor vetoed it, she would be frustrated.

Lu Yiyao…

From Wang Xi’s observation, his relationship with Ran Lin seemed quite good after the reality show, but she couldn’t rule out that he and Yao Hong might overthink upon knowing Ran Lin was a candidate for the third male lead. With a history of riding on popularity, if they believed Ran Lin was targeting Lu Yiyao this time too, then Ran Lin would definitely have no chance.

Wang Xi rarely regretted things she had done.

Using Lu Yiyao for hype was one such regret.

Should she let Ran Lin talk to Lu Yiyao? Play the sentiment card?

No, if that kid got impulsive and refused to act just to clear his name, she’d go crazy.

Wang Xi used to have confidence in controlling Ran Lin, but ever since the hotel drama, she began to reassess this artist, feeling that any day, Ran Lin might silently do something earth-shattering.

After much deliberation without a conclusion, Wang Xi, troubled, remembered the moonlight white reference.

Not only did she not understand the screenwriter’s intention, but she also didn’t even recognize the color.

Searching “moonlight white” on her phone, the answer was—a color between blue and white, not light blue, but white with a hint of pale blue.

The knitted shirt Ran Lin wore that day!

Wang Xi realized in her memory.

That shirt really wasn’t particularly attractive, but according to Screenwriter Song Mang, it was the favorite color of the character Ran Lin played—Xu Chongfei.

Opening the phone gallery, she carefully went through the audition scripts from a month ago, scrutinizing until her eyes hurt. Finally, in the character bio, Wang Xi saw that inconspicuous line—

Favoring clothes in moonlight white, just like himself, calm and clear.

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

---

Chapter 32

Huo Yuntao’s return to China was a big deal for Lu Yiyao, even though it wasn’t happening until next year. Lu Yiyao immediately sent a video call request—a face-to-face talk was needed.

In the video, Huo Yuntao was in the living room of his quaint English countryside holiday home, the familiar fireplace visible in the background. Huo Yuntao had the look of a carefree playboy: a straight nose, thin lips, and charming eyes. He appeared to have just taken a bath, wrapped in a luxurious and thick dark blue bathrobe, his hair half-dry, epitomizing the image of a pampered young master.

Lu Yiyao was accustomed to his friend’s perpetual vacation lifestyle. However, his friend frowned and asked, “Did you add more movie stills to your wall?”

Lu Yiyao glanced at the wall behind him, feeling indifferent. “It’s alright, I guess.”

Huo Yuntao was incredulous. “Definitely more. You narcissist.”

Lu Yiyao didn’t dwell on this old topic and got to the point. “Why have you suddenly decided to come back?”

Huo Yuntao looked nonchalant. “Oh, I’m getting married.”

Lu Yiyao was stunned, taking a while to process this bombshell. “You, are, getting, married?!”

“What’s with that expression?” Huo Yuntao looked at the shock in his friend’s eyes speechlessly, as if he had announced he was becoming a monk instead of getting married. “You know I’ve been with Panxi for years. What’s so strange about getting married?”

“It’s not strange for you to marry Panxi, but I thought someone as fun-loving as you wouldn’t consider it until at least thirty…” Lu Yiyao narrowed his eyes skeptically, examining his friend’s frivolous face, then had a sudden realization. “You’re not, are you?”

Huo Yuntao paused, then, understanding his friend’s insinuation, responded in despair. “Drop your wild guesses. Our relationship is pure and profound!”

Lu Yiyao tilted his head in confusion. “Being a father is good news; you don’t need to be secretive about it.”

Huo Yuntao admitted, getting serious. “Her family started arranging blind dates for her because they saw I had no intention of returning. Could I allow that? If I don’t return soon, I’ll lose my wife!”

“Wait.” Lu Yiyao suddenly remembered today was April 1^st and became more cautious. “You’re not fooling me, right?”

Huo Yuntao was serious. “Would I joke about something like this?”

Lu Yiyao stared at him for a long moment, then nodded, indicating he believed him.

Huo Yuntao, feeling scrutinized and even more frustrated since he had to initiate the wedding announcement after waiting three days for a response, lamented, “You’re my best friend, yet you’re the last to know I’m getting married. It’s heartbreaking.”

“I found out a year in advance, and I’m the last one?” Lu Yiyao felt his friend misunderstood the term ‘advance notice’. But then he realized, “How would I know if you don’t tell me? Did you inform everyone else before me?”

“Of course not,” Huo Yuntao declared righteously. “You’re the only one I notified personally!”

“Then I should be the first to know.”

“I posted on Moments three days ago.”

“……”

“Any questions?”

“You win.”

Huo Yuntao held his phone in one hand, gesturing innocently with the other. “It wasn’t April Fool’s Day three days ago, so it can’t be a prank.”

Lu Yiyao nodded, accepting the suddenness of the news, but after thinking it through, he knew his friend never joked about relationships. “But didn’t Panxi consider moving to England before?”

Huo Yuntao sighed sadly. “She’s decided now. She prefers living in China.”

Lu Yiyao smiled gloatingly. “So even you, the infatuated idiot, have to return for career development?”

“What choice do I have? My wife is important.” Huo Yuntao languidly ruffled his hair, then suddenly cried out passionately. “Ah, my surfing, my yacht, my racing car—”

Lu Yiyao laughed until he was out of breath, then found his voice. “It’s not that bad. We have all these in China too.”

“It’s not about the hardware…” Huo Yuntao lamented after his outcry.

Lu Yiyao understood. “Your dad wants you to take over the company?”

Huo Yuntao said, “Being far away meant freedom, but returning under his watchful eye means training for sure.”

Lu Yiyao was silent, offering silent sympathy.

“So, you see,” Huo Yuntao suddenly said, “compared to your dad, he’s actually not bad. Even though he scolds you every time, he still lets you be. If your dad really wanted to stop you, even with my help, your dream of stardom would have been over.”

Lu Yiyao was silent; Huo Yuntao’s blunt truths left no room for argument. Like when Lu Yiyao secretly switched to drama school against his father’s wishes for him to attend Manchester Business School. Besides cutting off his finances, his dad didn’t do much else. In fact, his dad had a hundred ways to stop him, but in the end, he still didn’t finish school, unsure who won that battle.

“What are you thinking about?” Huo Yuntao knew his friend was deep in thought. His friend, aside from being narcissistic, was always full of inner drama.

“It’s strange. Now that I’m somewhat of a star, why don’t I feel like my dreams have come true?” Lu Yiyao had been pondering this question recently but had no one to confide in, until today when Huo Yuntao appeared, giving him a chance to finally talk about it. “Recently, I’ve been so busy that I fainted, completely losing consciousness. It was the first time in my life I had ever fainted, and it really scared me. Waking up in the hospital bed, I wondered, who am I working so hard for? What do I really want, and what am I aiming for?”

Huo Yuntao furrowed his brow, thinking hard before concluding, “You just take life too seriously. Who said people must have a dream? I just live each day happily, not dwelling on the past or future. Is that illegal?”

“You underestimate yourself.” Lu Yiyao looked at his friend with rare admiration. “You’re the one among everyone I know with the clearest and most steadfast goals.”

“What goal? How come I didn’t know about this?”

“To marry Lin Panxi.”

“…Well, that indeed is my dream.”

“And it’s been since elementary school.”

“I can’t be blamed for that; she sat right in front of me, swinging her ponytail in my face every day. You watch that for six years, you’d be hypnotized too.”

Lu Yiyao laughed and teasingly said, “But you’ve been in England for over ten years now. She’s long stopped swinging that ponytail. Why haven’t you let go?”

Huo Yuntao showed a roguish, domineering smirk, lifting his chin. “Too late. She’s swayed my heart.”

Lu Yiyao looked at his friend, apparently carefree but deeply in love, and genuinely remarked, “You’re the one who should be acting, with such rich emotions.”

“No, thanks. I don’t want to fall in love and have an underground affair.” Huo Yuntao firmly refused, and then brought the phone closer, warning with widened eyes. “Alright, I’ve informed you. Remember to prepare a wedding gift. You have a year, and if it’s not something decent, we can’t be friends!”

“I got it. I got it—” Lu Yiyao quickly agreed, not giving his friend a chance to make more unreasonable demands and ended the video call.

After the call with his mischievous friend, Lu Yiyao finally realized that he had forgotten to say congratulations.

Huo Yuntao seemed indifferent, but his joy seemed ready to burst through the screen, and Lu Yiyao could feel it. His friend might be playful and noisy, seemingly not serious about anything, but his love for Lin Panxi was unwavering.

Lu Yiyao had never seen anyone maintain a romance from elementary school into adulthood, enduring over a decade of long-distance relationship, and still end up together.

Huo Yuntao and Lin Panxi did just that.

Their families were close, and their match was suitable, so their relationship didn’t face much opposition. Huo Yuntao’s comment about the Lin Family arranging blind dates was probably just to force him back to China.

Childhood sweethearts, golden boy and jade girl*, perfect harmony, culminating in marriage.

*(金童玉女) Idiom referring to a handsome young man and a beautiful young woman, often with the undertone that they are a perfect match.

Even idol dramas aren’t this sweet.

Lu Yiyao didn’t often check Moments, so missing Huo Yuntao’s post wasn’t surprising. If his friend hadn’t directly informed him today, he probably wouldn’t have known until next year’s wedding.

Exiting the private chat, he went into Moments, not seeing Huo Yuntao’s post first but Ran Lin’s.

The person in the photo was paler and more delicate than he remembered, and perhaps due to the hairstyle, seemed particularly gentle and obedient.

Lu Yiyao resisted the urge to comment and scrolled down to find Huo Yuntao.

Lu Yiyao had many WeChat friends, mostly from the industry. People wanted to add him, and he couldn’t refuse, but after adding them, he usually set up a block due to the somewhat awkward relationships. They could see his Moments, but he wouldn’t see theirs.

As a result, the updates in his Moments were quite limited. After scrolling a bit, he found the short video posted by Huo Yuntao.

The video was brief, but it captured the most exciting moment of Lin Panxi accepting his proposal.

It was unclear from the video whether he had made a quick trip back to China or if she had gone to England, but the man in the video was laughing foolishly, and the woman was tearfully joyful.

Lu Yiyao typed a comment below the video: [Congratulations. Wait for my big gift!]

Having finally sent his well wishes, Lu Yiyao returned to the top of Moments and opened Ran Lin’s photo in full screen.

With the colors more vibrant and the features clearer, Ran Lin’s youthful beauty was more apparent. The natural hair, the distant look in his eyes, created a likable and dazed charm.

Reading the comments, mostly from Xia Xinran, Lu Yiyao smiled upon seeing Leo’s name.

Leo was a well-known stylist in the industry, a nice guy, quite open. Though not officially out, he was almost there and occasionally flirted with male celebrities he liked.

It seemed Xia Xinran wasn’t keen on this.

Lu Yiyao didn’t mind much. He had been pursued by the same sex during his studies in England, but after making clear his straight orientation, the pursuer backed off. So, as long as the other party didn’t cross boundaries, Lu Yiyao respected all orientations.

Xia Xinran was only concerned about the makeup, but Lu Yiyao was curious about the content. The photo clearly showed a makeup room, but he hadn’t heard Ran Lin mentioning any new work recently.

Actually, he had been so busy catching up with previous engagements and worrying about going home that he hadn’t really chatted with these friends lately.

Thinking this, Lu Yiyao straightforwardly asked in the comments: [A new gig?]

Comments in Moments don’t get immediate responses like private chats, and Lu Yiyao didn’t expect an instant reply. Instead, he reopened the photo, appreciating it objectively.

Leo indeed had skills.

During the reality show, everyone was usually disheveled, and Lu Yiyao never thought Ran Lin could be associated with “beautiful”. That word suited Xia Xinran more. As for Ran Lin, he was more about freshness and handsomeness, but if it really came to handsomeness, he couldn’t beat Zhang Beichen, so he could only uniquely claim freshness.

Admittedly, in the male artist circle, truly owning the “fresh and young” charm was rare and Ran Lin’s temperament was indeed unique. But the appeal of “freshness” is limited, and it’s unlikely to be overwhelmingly popular.

However, under Leo’s touch, Ran Lin looked beautiful.

The kind of fresh and clean beauty, even more rare, wasn’t effeminate but rather intelligent and scholarly. In ancient times, he would be a talented scholar or a graceful strategist; in modern times, definitely the school heartthrob and top student.

Lu Yiyao wondered if Leo flirted with Ran Lin.

He didn’t know why he suddenly thought of this, but once he did, he couldn’t stop imagining Ran Lin just smiling it off.

Just a smile and nothing more.

Lu Yiyao was confident in his imagination, as in his experience, Ran Lin almost never lost his temper.

Come to think of it, what would Ran Lin look like when angry? He was genuinely curious…

After a series of random thoughts, he still hadn’t received a reply to his comment.

Lu Yiyao regretted not sending a private message instead, but then thought it would seem strange to suddenly ask about a Moments post after not talking for days.

Lu Yiyao got up and reset the needle on the record player, surrounding the home theater with lazy tunes again.

Settling back into the sofa, he decided to wait patiently.

……

When Ran Lin got home at nine p.m., it was even earlier than when Lu Yiyao got home. At that time, Lu Yiyao hadn’t yet video called Huo Yuntao, nor had he seen the Moments.

Ran Lin was oblivious to all of this.

The only thing he knew was that Wang Xi hadn’t returned to her own home but came to his small apartment instead, along with Liu Wanwan.

Ran Lin didn’t ask, and Liu Wanwan, curious to death, could only follow along.

Finally, the three of them entered Ran Lin’s small living room. Wang Xi asked Liu Wanwan to pour some water and then leisurely sat down on the sofa, patting the space next to her to signal Ran Lin to sit.

Ran Lin said, “I’d rather stand. It feels safer.”

Wang Xi rolled her eyes at him. “Good news!”

Ran Lin sat down next to her, half-believing, half-doubtful.

As soon as he sat down, Wang Xi took out a stack of A4 papers bound together from her bag.

Ran Lin’s eyes brightened immediately, and he blurted out without thinking. “A script?!”

Wang Xi handed the papers to him, correcting him, “To be exact, it’s a script for an audition.”

Reminded by this, Ran Lin realized that the booklet in his hand was quite thin compared to a full script.

But the title on the cover was striking—<Sword of Fallen Flowers>.

Ran Lin couldn’t wait to flip through the script, starting with the plot summary, then quickly moving to the character introductions, and finally, to the actual script. It wasn’t a typical episodic script but rather just three scenes printed out—obviously the content he needed for the audition.

“A wuxia¹ drama?” Even without reading the plot summary in detail, Ran Lin had a good guess. He looked at Wang Xi, not questioning her choice of scripts, just a bit surprised because, in recent years, wuxia dramas hadn’t been very popular, with more investors favoring palace intrigue and xianxia².

¹Genre of Chinese fiction concerning the adventures of martial artists in ancient China.
²A genre of Chinese fantasy heavily inspired by Chinese mythology and influenced by philosophies of Taoism, Chan Buddhism, Chinese martial arts, traditional Chinese medicine, Chinese folk religion, Chinese alchemy, other traditional elements of Chinese culture, and the wuxia genre.

“Any problems?” Seeing his concern, Wang Xi didn’t answer directly but simply raised her eyebrows in question.

Ran Lin quickly shook his head. “Not at all.”

This was the truth. Whether the play was popular or not was the investors’ concern. He was just happy to have a script to work on and wasn’t in a position to be picky.

“This is a rare double male lead drama, a precious opportunity,” Wang Xi said earnestly.

Ran Lin was even more excited and stopped looking at the script, directly asking his manager, “Which role am I auditioning for?”

Wang Xi replied, “The third male lead.”

Ran Lin: “…”

Then why mention the double leads!

Ran Lin’s excitement turned into dismay, having thought he had a stroke of luck landing a lead role.

“Forget the leads.” Wang Xi ruthlessly shattered his illusions, pausing for a moment before adding, “Just focus on doing well in the audition. The outcome isn’t for you to worry about.”

Ran Lin pursed his lips, sensing there was more to her words.

Given his history of unsuccessful auditions, he tentatively asked, “Is this another ‘just for show’ audition?”

Wang Xi was silent for a while before cautiously saying, “The production hasn’t finalized the cast yet. There are a few potential candidates, but nothing is certain. Filming starts in September, and it’s already April; they’re in a hurry. The director hasn’t given the green light yet and wants more auditions, so—” Wang Xi said, fixing her gaze on Ran Lin, “you only have three days. This opportunity is very rare. Even if there’s only a 1% chance, you need to give 200%.”

When Wang Xi emphasized something so seriously, it meant it was very important.

She had said before that if there were more “for show” auditions already decided, they wouldn’t waste time on them. Now, although this role wasn’t predetermined, the chances were slim, yet she still took it so seriously. That only meant one thing—the drama had a bright future and was one of those highly sought-after projects.

Closing the script, Ran Lin looked at the cover again, noticing the small print under the title—

Director: Chen Qizheng

Screenwriter: Song Mang

Ran Lin was shocked.

Chen Qizheng and Song Mang were a golden duo in the film industry. Their wuxia films in recent years had carved out a unique path in the market, each one achieving both box office success and critical acclaim, revitalizing the somewhat stagnant wuxia genre.

Their movies inherited the traditional charm of wuxia but weren’t constrained by it, cleverly incorporating innovation, appealing to the new generation with their blend of poetic style and engaging content, full of swordplay and passionate heroism.

“Is it really Director Chen?” Ran Lin still found it hard to believe. It wasn’t unheard of for famous film directors to turn to TV dramas, but it was rare.

“The investors are going big, so they can even coax gods to descend,” Wang Xi said, taking a big gulp of the water Liu Wanwan had given her, obviously thirsty from the journey.

Liu Wanwan passed the other cup to Ran Lin, who took it but was still immersed in disbelief.

After quenching her thirst, Wang Xi continued, “So, it doesn’t matter if you don’t get selected. Just try to leave an impression on Director Chen; that would be beneficial.”

Ran Lin nodded, taking the advice to heart, then curiously asked his manager, “Are the double leads confirmed?”

Wang Xi frowned, displeased. “You’re not even sure about your role yet, why worry about the leads?”

Ran Lin clammed up, not saying another word.

“Focus on the script for the next three days. Contact me with any questions, got it?”

“Got it.”

Wang Xi nodded, satisfied, and then looked at Liu Wanwan.

The girl quickly and smartly responded, “I’m on call 24/7, ready anytime.”

Wang Xi looked at her for a long moment and sighed. “I should have just gotten a male assistant in the first place. You could have lived together, making it more convenient for care.”

Liu Wanwan was taken aback, almost blurting out “I can live here too,” but fortunately held back at the last moment.

Ran Lin also felt relieved, thinking how troublesome it would be if it were a young male assistant instead.

After much discussion and finally sending Wang Xi and Liu Wanwan away, Ran Lin immediately returned to the living room and started reading the script without delay.

The plot summary of <Sword of Fallen Flowers> wasn’t complicated.

The two male leads, Tang Jingyu and Fang Xian, had very different backgrounds. The former was orphaned at a young age and adopted by the martial arts Fang Clan. The latter was the young master of the Fang Clan. The two, close in age, grew up practicing martial arts together, as close as brothers and partners in mischief.

The “Sword of Fallen Flowers” was the legendary number one sword, with its manual lost twenty years ago and now resurfacing in the martial world. Various forces in the martial world were stirring, sending out people to investigate in Liuma Town, where the manual was rumored to have appeared. The Fang Clan sent their adopted son Tang Jingyu, while Fang Xian volunteered to accompany him.

Throughout their journey, they made friends and enemies. Upon arriving in Liuma Town, a shocking conspiracy that could overturn the martial arts world began to unfold…

The synopsis was always sketched out in the simplest and most direct language.

Even the best writers couldn’t add flourish to a synopsis.

But reading the character profiles made the emotional dimensions of the story clearer—

Tang Jingyu: Orphaned at a young age, he was adopted by the Fang Clan. He regarded Fang Xianqing as a brother, only to later discover their foster father, Fang Huanzhi, was the enemy who had annihilated his family. Seeking revenge, the brothers turned against each other, hurting the ones they loved, until Tang Jingyu had a sudden realization.

Fang Xian: The young master of the Fang Clan, as close as siblings with Tang Jingyu. He stepped back upon learning of Tang Jingyu’s affection for Zhao Buyao. Later, he discovered his biological father was the perpetrator of the Tang Clan massacre, caught between familial love and moral duty.

Zhao Buyao: Daughter of the leader of Liuhua Palace who’s in love with Tang Jingyu. She sees Fang Xian as a brother and is willing to risk everything for love.

Xu Chongfei: Young master of the Jiangnan Hidden Sword Tower. In Liuma Town, during the search for the Sword of Fallen Flowers Manual, he became friends with Tang, Fang, and Zhao after a fight. Caught in the middle of Tang and Fang’s feud, Xu Chongfei sacrificed his life for their enlightenment.

Ran Lin was auditioning for Xu Chongfei.

Just from the character profiles, a sense of tragedy was palpable. Reading the detailed biographies and the three scenes, Ran Lin’s eyes had teared up.

He read the few pages over and over for more than two hours. Finally overwhelmed, he lay back on the sofa, sighing at the ceiling. “Does it have to be so pitiful?”

Three scenes: a brotherly fallout, love-induced pain, and dying words; a relentless torment of the character.

Getting up to wash his face in the bathroom, Ran Lin looked at himself in the mirror and suddenly felt that the delicate-looking young man in the reflection couldn’t bear the weighty character of Xu Chongfei, known for his deep sense of loyalty and righteousness.

He appeared too frail, not resembling the self-sacrificing Xu Chongfei but rather like a pampered and indulged young noble. Xu Chongfei was about loyalty and friendship, not about an intimidating appearance or sharp eyes.

Slap, slap—

Ran Lin forcefully slapped his face twice, squinting his eyes slightly, attempting to make his gaze sharper.

No, that’s not right.

Ran Lin shook his head, clearing his vision.

Xu Chongfei, as a character, valued loyalty and friendship. His heroism wasn’t in a fierce appearance or a sharp gaze, but in his profound affection for friends.

Taking a deep breath, Ran Lin paused for a moment, then looked back at the mirror, imagining the person reflected not as himself but as that young master of the Hidden Sword Tower…Fifteen minutes later, Ran Lin left the bathroom, his eyes sore and twitching.

Staring intensely for so long was indeed unhealthy.

Glancing at the clock, it was already past eleven at night.

It had been Ran Lin’s most fulfilling April Fool’s Day: shooting an ad all day and pondering the script all night.

Ran Lin rubbed his still-twitching eyelids and decided to rest first, reminding himself that things must be done step by step, and haste doesn’t bring success.

Returning to the bathroom, Ran Lin quickly showered and then, with his phone in hand, crawled into his still-cold bed.

The breathing light on his phone had been on for who knows how long. Ran Lin checked it and saw, indeed, a red “1” on the upper right corner of the WeChat icon.

It was a private chat from Liu Wanwan sent two hours ago: [You can do it*, Ran Ge!]

*Add Oil expression used as an encouragement and support to a person. It derives from [Jiayou] which is an ubiquitous term for cheering on someone. There’s really no direct translation.

She must have sent it right after leaving.

Ran Lin’s lips curled into a smile as he replied with a cool smoking emoji.

Exiting the private chat, he noticed several new notifications in his friends’ circle.

Ran Lin instinctively thought someone had liked his photos, and indeed, upon checking, found six new notifications—five likes and one comment from Lu Yiyao asking, “A new gig?”

The timing was close to Liu Wanwan’s message. He wondered if the two had planned it.

With no further reply from Liu Wanwan—she was probably asleep—and likely so was Lu Yiyao.

Feeling a bit unclearly disappointed, Ran Lin replied: [Yeah, a shampoo advertisement.]

The response came instantly.

Almost as soon as Ran Lin exited the friends’ circle, a notification appeared.

Ran Lin was startled.

It was unexpected and a bit nerve-wracking.

He hesitantly opened the new message, replying with just one word: [Oh.]

Oh, your head!

Anyone who flirts in the middle of the night and then abruptly stops is bad news!

Without another reply, Ran Lin decisively turned off his phone, huffily turned off the lights, closed his eyes, and banished the disturbing thoughts of the surnamed Lu from his mind, kicking him out of his thoughts entirely!

What Ran Lin didn’t know was that at the same moment he turned off his phone, a new reply appeared in his friends’ circle: [What brand is it? I’ll try it too and see if I can get hair as flowing as yours. 😏]

…..

Lu Yiyao stared at his two replies, having waited for five minutes.

No new activity appeared.

Had Ran Lin fallen asleep?

It seemed unlikely. With his personality, even if he was dead tired, he’d say “Goodnight” before logging off.

But this was a friends’ circle comment, not a private chat, so maybe a “Goodnight” wasn’t necessary.

He decided to wait a bit longer.

Lu Yiyao comforted himself, thinking maybe Ran Lin was typing a long message, hence the slow response.

He should learn to do the same—send an “Oh” or “Mm” to let the other person know he was still there, then say the specific content…

Lu Yiyao lay on the couch in the audio-visual room, waiting for an hour.

He fell asleep with his phone in his arms, not receiving a reply from Ran Lin.

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