The wind in Beijing was as wild and sandy as ever. It almost blew off He Zheng’s hat, his hair whipping across his face. He lowered his head and walked briskly out of the airport, got into a taxi, and immediately shut the window tight. The driver kept glancing at him through the rearview mirror, seemingly trying to figure out his gender.
It was noon, and traffic was packed tight—cars inching forward like snails. He Zheng texted He Linlin to let her know he’d arrived safely, then looked out the window. Across the street, an LED screen on a commercial building was playing a promotional video for a charity gala. Top-tier actors were all featured.
As the car crawled forward and stopped at the next intersection, another building’s screen was showing the same familiar faces. Clearly, the investors had gone all out with the publicity. The event seemed to have taken over the whole city.
He reached home right at twelve. He Linlin had just gotten back and was busy preparing lunch in the kitchen. When she heard the door open, she poked her head out and smiled, “You’re back.”
She wore a light blue short dress, her straight black hair neatly draped over her shoulders. Her legs were pale and slender, her eyes bright, with barely any fine lines at the corners. She didn’t look like a woman nearing fifty. Perhaps because she worked as a kindergarten teacher, there was always a calm, youthful warmth about her.
He Zheng smiled at her. While changing his shoes, he rested a hand on the cabinet beside him and accidentally touched an envelope. Picking it up, he remembered—it was the letter Linlin had mentioned before, sent by Xiao Wei. He put it back casually.
Linlin came out of the kitchen with two steaming dishes. The plates were so hot she instinctively touched her earlobe to cool her fingers. Just then, her phone rang from the bedroom.
“I’ll get it,” He Zheng said before she could move. “You sit down.”
The phone was vibrating on the bed. When he walked in, the first thing that caught his eye was a framed photo on the bedside table.
It showed a smiling woman sitting gracefully on a swing, her posture elegant, her neck and shoulders perfectly straight.
His biological mother—Tan Mo. Someone he had never met.
Footsteps sounded behind him. Linlin stopped at the doorway, looking from his back to the photo. Like a child caught doing something wrong, she awkwardly stepped forward, quietly put the photo back into the drawer, then forced a smile. “Lunch is ready.”
He Zheng turned around, polite and composed. “Your phone’s about to hang up—you should answer it.”
He left the room and sat down at the dining table, eating quietly. He didn’t bring it up, didn’t press her.
Linlin soon came out, still on the call, her tone anxious. “I’ll be right there—yes, I’ll call the parents immediately.”
While hurriedly changing shoes, she turned to He Zheng. “Two kids started fighting at the kindergarten. I have to go back.”
“Want me to drive you?” he asked, putting down his chopsticks.
“I’ll grab a taxi—it’s faster.” She rushed out, calling back a quick goodbye before slamming the door and running down the stairs.
Left alone, He Zheng tried calling the Top Supporter. The system said the line was busy.
For some reason, ever since the livestream ended last night, the Top Supporter hadn’t sent him any messages.
While driving to the interview studio, he called again — still no answer.
His mind involuntarily went to that mixed-race man — the one who said he’d be staying at the Top Supporter’s place. Maybe he was still there.
They’d seemed close. Maybe now they were having supper together. With someone real beside him, maybe the Top Supporter no longer had time to care about the one across the ocean.
He turned off the engine, unbuckled his seatbelt, and got out.
The studio was at the top floor of a cultural building. Just as the elevator doors were closing, a hand slid in to block them.
The doors reopened. A man appeared—black trench coat, sunglasses, holding a cup of coffee, chin slightly raised. A familiar silhouette.
When Huang Chen recognized him, he froze for a moment. His fingers tightened, spilling some coffee. Face stiff, he stepped into the elevator and stood behind He Zheng.
He Zheng could feel his stare from behind. Without reacting, he pressed the button for the top floor. The elevator doors closed, and as it ascended steadily, the first to break the silence was Huang Chen.
His voice was hoarse but still laced with mockery. “You’ve done pretty well for yourself.”
He Zheng didn’t turn around. “Mm.”
“How’d you climb so high, huh? Teach me?” Huang Chen sneered, his tone biting. “Huazhou’s standing up for you—guess you think you’re hot stuff now?”
He Zheng frowned. “Huazhou?”
“Yeah, I can’t afford to mess with Huazhou,” Huang Chen said, voice dripping sarcasm. “So I’ll apologize—sorry, okay? Really sorry. Using dirty tricks to screw me over, and you think you’re some kind of saint?”
Just as he finished, the elevator door opened. He rammed He Zheng’s shoulder hard as he passed, striding out. But after two steps, someone grabbed the back of his neck and yanked him backward. He stumbled, dropping the coffee, which splattered across the floor.
“What the hell is your problem!” he shouted, shoving He Zheng’s hand away. “Addicted to bullying me, huh?!”
The studio door was open, and people inside peeked out. A receptionist rushed over, calling for someone to clean up while trying to calm Huang Chen. “Mr. Huang, please, relax.”
He Zheng flexed his sore wrist. “Explain what you meant—what does this have to do with Huazhou?”
Huazhou Group was one of China’s top three corporations, a giant in real estate with no ties to the entertainment industry. He Zheng didn’t know anyone there. Huang Chen was good at throwing dirt, but not usually baselessly.
“You don’t know?” Huang Chen’s voice rose. “You’ve got the nerve to ask me? The Huazhou president personally called the director to pressure him—wasn’t that your doing? Threatened to blacklist me? The whole drama’s been shut down because of you, and now you’re pretending to be clueless?!”
His voice grew louder and angrier. The receptionist, sweating, grabbed his arm and forced a smile. “Alright, Mr. Huang, please calm down—I’ll take you to the lounge first.”
Huang Chen was dragged away, nearly twisting his ankle in anger. He kept muttering complaints to the staff the whole way and turned back several times to glare at He Zheng, pointing at him and grinding his teeth. “You’ll get what’s coming to you sooner or later.”
Another staff member came forward. Seeing that He Zheng remained calm, they exchanged a few polite words and then led him to the interview room. He Zheng had originally planned to call Li Ru after filming, but he couldn’t hold back and dialed her number during the interview prep.
“Hello?”
He Zheng got straight to the point. “Do you know who called the director to get the surveillance footage?”
“Of course, your Top Supporter did.”
“Huang Chen said it was Huazhou’s president.”
“What?” Li Ru was incredulous. “He must be joking, right? Why would Huazhou get involved in this kind of petty mess?”
She paused. “Wait—you don’t think your Top Supporter and Huazhou’s president are the same person, do you?”
He Zheng replied firmly, “Impossible.”
“The Top Supporter’s still young. The one running Huazhou is already thirty-five or thirty-six, and he’s registered his marriage abroad with his partner.”
Li Ru hesitated awkwardly. “Unless… your Top Supporter is the president’s partner?”
“He’s not.” He Zheng was half amused, half exasperated. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”
“I’ll help you ask around,” Li Ru said reluctantly before hanging up.
He Zheng switched to WeChat, planning to message the Top Supporter directly to clear things up. But before he could finish typing, the staff handed him the interview script. He had no choice but to put away his phone, suppress all distractions, and focus on work.
The interviewer was a kind-looking middle-aged woman. Before they started, she personally poured him a glass of water, patted his shoulder, and said, “Don’t be nervous.”
He Zheng nodded after clearing his throat. “We can start.”
The camera zoomed in for a close shot. The teleprompter rolled as the host lifted her microphone and began, “Mr. He, welcome to our program. First, regarding the recent Weibo rumor incident—since you were the victim, could you tell us what really happened?”
He Zheng answered calmly, “On October 2nd, I met the director through an introduction from my former agent. After passing the audition, I arrived on set the next day. During the scene where I was supposed to be slapped, Mr. Huang Chen wasn’t in the right state of mind, causing multiple retakes. He and the director had verbal conflicts. After filming, I accidentally got injured during the scene. I asked Mr. Huang why he hadn’t trimmed his nails, and he insulted me, saying I didn’t deserve to question him based on my status, then tried to hit me but was stopped by others.”
He paused for two seconds. “Afterward, he twisted the story on Weibo, spreading rumors and inciting his fans to harass me during my livestream. I requested the director for surveillance footage to prove my innocence and demanded that Huang Chen delete the post and apologize. But to this day, he hasn’t issued a public apology.”
The host read the next line from her cue card: “Some witnesses said that the person who contacted the director for the evidence wasn’t you, but one of your fans?”
“He’s not a fan,” He Zheng corrected. “He’s a friend.”
“A friend in real life?”
“He’s abroad. We’ve never met in person.”
The host seemed doubtful and briefly lowered her head to mask her expression. “Could you tell us what your friend does for a living?”
“I’m not sure,” He Zheng said steadily. “He doesn’t talk much about his personal life, and I’m not interested in prying. We’re just online friends.”
“Alright,” the host nodded. “Then so far, are you satisfied with how the situation has been handled?”
“I want Mr. Huang to apologize,” He Zheng said slowly and firmly. “On Weibo—and to me, face to face.”
The host coughed lightly, signaling him to read the response from the teleprompter.
He glanced at it. The line read: I’m satisfied with how things were resolved. Mr. Huang has already apologized to me privately, and I hope we can work together again in the future.
He stayed silent for a long moment. Seeing that he had no intention of compromising, the host coughed again.
“…”
“Alright, final question,” she said, trying to smooth things over. “Opinions about your appearance in the industry are quite divided. What would you like to say about that?”
The cue card gave only three words: Free to elaborate.
He Zheng pressed his lips together and sat up straighter. “I admit my appearance limits the kinds of roles I’m offered. That’s why I’ve been trying to reinvent myself these past years. But no one is willing to give me that chance. I can cut my hair, gain weight, or wear men’s clothing—it’s only natural to make changes for one’s career. But I still want to say this: dismissing an actor purely because of their appearance is a hasty judgment. My acting doesn’t improve or worsen based on my hairstyle. I may compromise with myself for practical reasons, but to others like me—I want to say, having your own style isn’t wrong.”
“I hope directors can give more opportunities to background actors. For us, being able to spot our own face even for a second in a wide shot is something to be proud of.”
He stood and gave a slight bow. “Thank you to every voice out there. Thank you, everyone.”