Two months later, Qiu Mian officially wrapped up filming. Since many of his scenes cast him as a background character for the male lead, the entire production was also nearing its completion. The director’s team had already started discussing where to hold the wrap party.
However, during this final stage, the private photographers—known as daipai—became even more rampant. Desperate to capture rare paparazzi shots, they did everything they could to breach security. Even when chased away, they persisted. At times like this, Qiu Mian’s perception was razor-sharp; he could sense the presence of those massive telephoto lenses even across a mountain, occasionally glancing over to lock eyes with the photographers for a long moment.
That was until he heard that those daipai were specifically trying to snap pictures of him.
Qiu Mian: “”
“Aren’t I basically just a random passerby in the entertainment industry?” he asked with bewilderment.
Wei Pu was equally shocked: “You seriously didn’t know? The show where you played the Demonic Prince was surprise-dropped and is currently trending! It’s receiving glowing reviews!”
“Wasn’t that show called No Place in the Mortal World for Mutual Longing?” Qiu Mian only then tapped into the trending topics. “The one filling up everyone’s screens is called The Legend of Siyao.”
“It’s totally normal for TV show titles to change when they air. This is that ancient costume drama you filmed the year before last.”
Wei Pu tapped open a video posted by a gossip account. On screen, Jing Gu—the Demonic Prince played by Qiu Mian—walked leisurely from afar. Surveying the majestic celestial army, he gave a faint, cold smirk. With a special effect sweeping across the screen, intricate golden patterns crawled from beneath his collarbone up the left side of his face, gradually revealing the luster of mystical golden scales. Then, he spoke in a stern voice: “Regardless of whether she used to be human or immortal, guilty or innocent, the moment she stepped into the Abyss of Locking Unicorns, she became the property of my Demon Realm. Whoever dares to try and snatch her will be shown no mercy!”
The caption was filled with wild praise: Jing Gu is too handsome! Jing Gu and Siyao are so sweet! It even came with the hashtags #JingGuNoMercy# and #JingGuSiyao#.
“…” Qiu Mian raised his head in silence. “How come I remember the original plot not looking like this? Wasn’t Jing Gu a workaholic who only used the female lead?”
“The post-production dubbing definitely changed the lines! That reminds me of some gossip I heard,” Wei Pu said mysteriously. “Originally, this show was supposed to be about the three lifetimes of entanglements between the male and female leads, and you and the other supporting actors were just fuel for their romance. But… didn’t the male lead get caught up in a massive scandal previously? To minimize the impact, the production team simply cut down the male lead’s scenes drastically, re-editing it into a female-centric drama, and even boosted the screen time of you supporting actors. Jing Gu happened to be the supporting actor with the most scenes in the early plot—domineering, arrogant, handsome, and deeply devoted. With the right timing, location, and people… you blew up!”
You couldn’t quite call it a massive breakout, because the show faced quiet boycotts from people unhappy about the male lead’s scandals and the complete rewrite of the original novel. But it was also a fact that Qiu Mian’s attention was climbing step by step, to the point where daipai were fighting over his leaked photos.
Yet regarding all this, Qiu Mian’s only takeaway was: “The editing team is truly amazing. They actually managed to edit a sense of deep devotion out of me.”
“…” Wei Pu rubbed his forehead and said, “They probably grafted your obsession with power onto the female lead.”
In the original plot, Jing Gu spent his entire life pursuing hegemony and had zero yearning for romance. However, when he accidentally learned that the female lead’s power of true love could provide him with supreme cultivation, he deliberately put on an act of being good to her. During a crucial choice, he still chose his career, ruthlessly abandoning the female lead and exiting the story early on.
Later in the series, he inevitably got his face slapped by the romance between the male and female leads, yet he put on a composed and indifferent front, ultimately dying indirectly because of the female lead. Right before his death, he reminisced about the past and showed regret and reluctance over that past choice.
Recalling the script and combining it with the content under the trending search results, Qiu Mian could confirm that the show had edited out his exploitation of the female lead during broadcast, turning Jing Gu into a supporting actor who was unconditionally good to her.
Even though it looked like quite a lot of people were eating up this trope.
“‘The way Jing Gu looks at Siyao is so full of love, ahhhhh!'” Qiu Mian read the comments with zero emotional fluctuation, genuinely bewildered. “How can they tell?”
Clearly, 99 percent of Jing Gu’s rival scenes had no genuine affection in them—only schemes and calculations. He had specifically chosen the role because it was relatively friendly to someone like him who was an idiot at romance scenes.
Wei Pu had already laughed himself flat onto the desk: “Directors know how to edit, and CP fans know how to mine for crumbs! Mostly, that looks are right there—both the handsome man and the beautiful woman are said to be a perfect match!”
“Besides, to offset the negative public opinion, the crew is definitely going to heavily market the other characters and CPs. We might as well ride their coattails for free,” he continued. “This show has been shelved for almost two years before finally being released. Who knows when your other shows will ever see the light of day…”
Qiu Mian gave a chilly smile: “They probably won’t ever come out.”
Wei Pu tried to struggle: “We can’t give up hope! Even when Liao Bin caused such a huge mess before, they only cut his scenes. The others, the others…”
As he spoke, he also fell silent.
Since his debut two years ago, Qiu Mian had filmed a total of six dramas.
The first was an urban romance drama where he made a cameo as the female lead’s college younger brother. His total screen time added up to just a few minutes, but it was the only drama Qiu Mian had filmed that didn’t run into any weird disasters.
The second was The Legend of Siyao, which was currently airing. Right after its broadcast date was locked down, the male lead got hit with an illicit romance scandal and the show had to be shelved. Fortunately, although the male lead lacked morals, it hadn’t crossed into illegal territory. After a major rewrite of the script, it could at least be released.
The third was the second season of a popular fantasy drama. Qiu Mian had even managed to snag a high-prestige role, but during the post-production special effects phase, the investors inexplicably pulled their funding. The project disbanded on the spot, and heaven knows when they’ll find someone to take over.
The fourth was a criminal investigation web drama where Qiu Mian played a unit boss who eventually gets whitewashed into a member of the protagonist team. This one actually aired smoothly, but halfway through it was reported for bloody visuals and had to be pulled offline for rectifications. He hadn’t even made his appearance yet, and who knows when it will get its safety code applied and go back online.
The fifth was a Republican-era drama that completely tanked because the female lead was officially announced for tax evasion. The female lead vanished from the entertainment industry entirely, and who knows if the day of her permanent ban will ever end.
The sixth was the ancient costume drama he was currently filming, which was about to wrap up, but who knew if some accident would happen to that one either.
Although ordinary actors always had a few shows sitting in the vault, the unexpected situations Qiu Mian encountered were simply too much. Wei Pu couldn’t help sighing: “Good thing The Legend of Siyao actually dropped, otherwise, Mianmian, you would’ve debuted for two years only to return as an absolute nobody…”
Qiu Mian didn’t really care: “I was just passing through anyway.”
“You can’t just be passing through! Raising your public favorability rating genuinely helps with Dream Traveling,” Wei Pu said. “That netizen of mine who works at the Dream-Traveling Base confirmed this.”
Dream Travelers entering a dream were like viruses entering a human body—they would be repelled by the dream owner’s consciousness, especially when they wanted to alter the contents of the dream, which would provoke even stronger resistance and expulsion from the dream owner.
However, if the Dream Traveler was someone the dream owner trusted, the situation would be completely different. Their actions could proceed unimpeded; the dream consciousness would accept the Dream Traveler’s guidance and willingly change its contents on its own, making dream-traveling work much easier.
Qiu Mian was a wild Dream Traveler who had fought alone for quite a long time, acting according to his own ideas and ignoring the rules of official Dream Travelers. Consequently, he had never known about this dream rule in the past, and had always forcibly suppressed the dream owners’ consciousness to alter dream contents.
That was until he happened to overhear a conversation among official Dream Travelers one day.
They were going to send Dream Travelers into the spotlight as celebrities to raise public awareness and favorability, making future dream-traveling work more convenient.
Qiu Mian had quietly passed by without paying it any mind.
However, later on, he accidentally helped a popular actress and was subsequently invited by her to act in a drama she was producing. Recalling the discussion among official Dream Travelers back then and weighing the pros and cons, Qiu Mian ultimately accepted the invitation, signed under the actress’s studio, and thus stepped into the entertainment industry.
That drama was Qiu Mian’s debut work, and that actress was both his older sister in the show and his real-life boss.
Though he was basically a transparent nobody in the entertainment industry, he had at least mixed into it. As for how far those official Dream Travelers who proposed the idea had progressed, Qiu Mian really had no idea.
He asked, “What did that netizen say?”
“He hinted that at least two Dream Travelers have debuted, and one of them is currently super popular. Headquarters spent massive resources pushing him,” Wei Pu said with shock in his voice. “They might have even founded an entertainment company.”
Qiu Mian didn’t care much about who this Dream Traveler was, but he was somewhat interested in the other sentence: “Such a massive investment?”
“Yeah, you can imagine how powerful those Dream Travelers’ backers must be,” Wei Pu said with a strong sense of crisis. “I need to go check and filter things out so we don’t end up competing with them for resources.”
Qiu Mian chuckled leisurely: “I only play supporting roles anyway, how could that happen?”
“That’s true… but Mianmian, you have infinite potential!” Wei Pu raised his volume. “Sister Wen also really wants to push you!”
Sister Wen’s full name was Wen Yi—the actress who pulled Qiu Mian into the industry and also his direct boss.
Wen Yi had left her former company to establish Duo Yi Media, and the very first artist she signed was Qiu Mian. She was also very optimistic about his prospects. Initially, she wanted to feed him male lead resources directly, but Wen Yi wasn’t an idol actress; she was a dramatic actress who had spent years rooting herself in melodic and urban dramas. Her resources didn’t suit Qiu Mian, requiring her to exchange resources with her former company, Sansheng Entertainment.
Since it went through a middleman after all, Qiu Mian still ended up acting as a supporting role. But due to various accidents, the dramas he filmed couldn’t get broadcasted, and coupled with artists under Sansheng Entertainment getting into scandals back-to-back, the company was forced to stockpile shows. Their capital chain broke, and with dismal performance in recent years, the resources they could provide became even scarcer.
As a result, Qiu Mian had degenerated from a major-production satellite-TV drama supporting actor into a mid-budget web drama supporting actor.
Qiu Mian sometimes suspected that the day Sansheng Entertainment went bankrupt would be the day he finished passing through the entertainment industry.
Thinking of this, he casually swiped open the trending searches, and the entertainment headline happened to be related to Sansheng Entertainment.
[#PeiyingAcquiresSanshengEntertainment# Peiying Group has acquired 100% equity of Sansheng Entertainment at a price of 27.5 billion yuan. Following the completion of the transaction, it was officially announced on June 21st.
Peiying Group successively acquired Xigua Media, Panlong Film & Television, and Lexiang Video in April of last year, November of last year, and February of this year respectively, with total transaction prices exceeding 100 billion yuan. Securing Sansheng Entertainment this time also represents Peiying Group’s continued expansion into the film, television, and entertainment industry.]
“Damn, 100 billion… the world of the rich…” Wei Pu saw it too and sighed with emotion. “This Peiying Group is doing real estate, internet, biopharmaceuticals, and now they’re coming for film and television entertainment. What do they call money making more money!”
“How else would he be the richest man?” Qiu Mian calmly swiped the screen, carefully reading the official announcement since this was related to his future resources, until his movements paused when he saw the trending reposts.
Among the tens of thousands of reposts on the statement released by Peiying Group, one stood out:
[@ChiJianying: Sansheng Entertainment, a gift for my thirtieth birthday.]