The live stream chat remained lively right up until the morning broadcast wrapped up.
However, neither Ji Xing nor He Mingchen bothered to check the stream, remaining completely unaware that their near-zero interaction could still generate such massive discussion. It wasn’t until lunchtime, when the two ran into Pei Yun in the dining hall, that they discovered him watching a replay of the broadcast on his phone.
Pei Yun was watching with immense amusement and immediately hurried over to their table upon spotting them.
“Your live stream today was way more bustling than our group’s. The show has only aired two episodes, yet the two of you already have this many shipping fans.” Pei Yun turned his phone screen toward He Mingchen. “Look, over half of the chat comments are busy pairing the two of you up.”
Keeping his head down to eat his meal in silence, Ji Xing thought to himself that this was a world built from their fanfiction, so nobody should be surprised if the entire globe was shipping them. Come to think of it, back in the world before he transmigrated, he and He Mingchen actually had shipping fans as well.
At that time, the two of them shared virtually zero intersection beyond appearing together briefly at a film premiere, followed by a joint appearance during a producer’s live stream session on set. Even with that bare minimum, shipping fans had already begun penning fanfiction about them, which somehow manifested into this exact world.
While Ji Xing’s thoughts wandered, Pei Yun continued chattering nonstop.
“The chat says you shouldn’t bully little Ji. Did you bully him?” Pei Yun asked.
Looking slightly bewildered by the question, He Mingchen turned to Ji Xing and asked, “Did I bully you?”
“Hmm?” With his mouth still half-full, Ji Xing blinked with puffed-up cheeks and shook his head.
Utterly charmed by his expression, Pei Yun whipped out his camera and snapped a photo at lightning speed.
He Mingchen cast a sideways glance at Pei Yun, looking mildly displeased by the act. Unbothered, Pei Yun simply abandoned his seat and relocated to sit directly beside Ji Xing.
Heading into the afternoon broadcast, Ji Xing had fully prepared himself to endure another two hours on the cold bench, but to his surprise, He Mingchen straightaway exiled him back to the private lounge with a specific assignment: review the live stream viewers’ comments and compile some audience feedback regarding their group’s performance.
Being granted permission to stay in the lounge brought Ji Xing immense joy.
After all, the lounge featured both a comfortable sofa and a boundless assortment of delicious treats.
Once the live stream commenced, Ji Xing pulled out his notebook with every intention of taking thorough, diligent notes. To his utter bewilderment, however, the moment the broadcast started, the chat was flooded with inquiries about his whereabouts, with virtually zero discussion dedicated to the actual rehearsal footage.
The rare comments that did touch upon the performances were wildly derailed:
[This guy’s acting is so stiff, why aren’t they letting Ji Xing play the scholar?]
[Can’t they just swap Ji Xing in for the role?]
[I want to see Teacher He tutor little Ji, hehehe.]
[Who doesn’t love the overbearing teacher and obedient student dynamic?]
After staring earnestly at the broadcast screen for a while, Ji Xing promptly gave up. Unpacking a bag of dried fruit, he slumped lazily over the desk, thoroughly enjoying his snacks while watching He Mingchen coach the trainees on screen.
When operating in his capacity as an instructor, He Mingchen was actually quite patient. Yet his chilling, aloof aura ran so deep that regardless of how much he attempted to soften his expression, the trainees remained perpetually terrified of him.
According to the analytical breakdown in the chat, the absolute most terrified person among all the trainees remained none other than Ji Xing.
[Little Ji gets disciplined so much, of course he’s scared.]
[Elaborate on which type of discipline you mean.]
[Is it the kind of discipline I’m thinking of?]
[You know, the kind with closed doors and drawn curtains.]
Reading through the live chat left Ji Xing’s face burning with crimson embarrassment. Unable to bear it any longer, he ultimately decided to close the comment stream altogether. Yet no sooner had he turned off the chat than he remembered He Mingchen had assigned him an official duty as an assistant, forcing him to sigh in defeat and reopen the chat window.
And so, Ji Xing grit his teeth and spent the entire afternoon staring at the live comments, managing to find precisely zero useful suggestions while bearing witness from start to finish to how the shipping fans psychoanalyzed the romance between him and He Mingchen.
By the time work wrapped up for the day, Ji Xing carried a heavy sense of lingering guilt, terrified He Mingchen might quiz him on the feedback. Fortunately, He Mingchen never brought it up, allowing Ji Xing to let out a long sigh of relief.
Returning to his hotel room that evening, Ji Xing broke his usual rule and opened Weibo.
Ever since the severe backlash he suffered previously, he rarely browsed social media, but figuring that the number of people cursing him must have dropped significantly by now, a quick peek wouldn’t hurt.
His initial intention in opening Weibo was simply to search for discussions regarding the show so he could take some notes just in case He Mingchen decided to ask about viewer opinions tomorrow. To his astonishment, typing the show’s keywords into the search bar brought up a flood of content centered entirely around his shipping tag with He Mingchen.
In just a short span of a few days, a dedicated couple super-topic had already been established for him and He Mingchen. The fans had even coined a ship name for them: Chen Ji Yi Jiu, a clever pun playing on the homophone for silence or long-standing silence.
Unable to suppress his curiosity, Ji Xing tapped into the super-topic and discovered it was bustling with activity. It featured edited couple imagery, fanfiction, and even fan-compiled video clips.
Most miraculously, Ji Xing stumbled across a piece of fanfiction that matched his exact memories of the original text, The Overbearing Best Actor’s Reckless Love. Both his and He Mingchen’s character settings, down to the narrative progression, mirrored the web novel he had read.
Having learned his lesson from past experiences, Ji Xing didn’t dare linger, quickly backing out after a few glances. Experiencing the bizarre phenomenon of transmigrating into a work of fanfiction once was quite enough; he had zero desire for a repeat performance.
Just to be safe, Ji Xing didn’t dare click on anything else, hastily exiting the super-topic altogether.
Meanwhile, Pei Yun invited He Mingchen out for a drink.
Yet He Mingchen seemed entirely devoid of interest, turning a wine glass idly between his fingers and barely taking a sip all evening.
“I remember you used to enjoy a good drink. What’s gotten into you lately?” Pei Yun asked, puzzled.
“Drinking too much leads to mistakes, you should cut back when you have nothing to do either,” He Mingchen replied.
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of losing control after drinking?”
“Nobody will mistake you for mute if you stay quiet.”
Realizing He Mingchen clearly had zero desire to entertain the topic, Pei Yun tactfully steered the conversation elsewhere.
“Watching the live stream this afternoon, I noticed Xiao Ji didn’t make a single appearance on camera. Did you lock him up inside a wardrobe to hide him away?”
“You read the comments in the chat, even without appearing on camera his popularity remains high.” Taking a small sip of his drink, He Mingchen continued, “I don’t particularly agree with this style of variety show format, especially for a newcomer like him with virtually no representative works. Whether he receives praise or criticism right now, neither outcome is necessarily a good thing.”
On that point, Pei Yun couldn’t argue. Having spent years in the entertainment industry, he had witnessed far too many newcomers crash and burn under the crushing weight of sudden internet traffic. Traffic itself wasn’t inherently evil, but not everyone possessed the shoulders to carry it. Maintaining one’s original intentions while resisting external contamination amidst a tidal wave of massive public attention was simply too difficult.
“Are you trying to shield him?” Pei Yun asked.
“Giving him a bit more time to adjust is not a bad thing.”
With an understanding smile, Pei Yun polished off the remaining wine in his cup in a single gulp. “Old He, it suddenly occurs to me to ask: since you looked down on this show so much from the start, why did you agree to sign on as a mentor? I recall you never used to record reality shows.”
“Are you asking me?” He Mingchen glanced at him sideways. “What about you?”
“I don’t cherish my reputation quite as obsessively as you do, I just enjoy joining in on the lively chaos.”
Running his fingers along the rim of his wine glass, He Mingchen wore an unreadable, complex expression.
As for his reasons for joining this program, explaining the whole backstory was far too complicated, and even if he told the truth, Pei Yun likely wouldn’t believe a word of it.
A few days later, Actor Special Training Camp ushered in its first phase of reporting performances.
The stage evaluations would not only be broadcast as part of the weekly recorded episodes, but would also stream live from start to finish.
While recorded programs afforded plenty of room for post-production editing, a live broadcast functioned like a magical mirror, projecting the unvarnished performances of every single trainee directly before the audience without a shred of differentiation.
Ji Xing had originally been quite relaxed. Since he lacked an assigned role, he occupied the most effortless position in this phase, needing only to sit in the audience and act as an NPC throughout the event. To his dismay, on the afternoon right before the live broadcast, Pei Yun rushed over to him in a panic, desperate to rope him in as a last-minute substitute.
“Do you remember that trainee who suffered from heatstroke when you came to help with blocking last time?” Pei Yun asked urgently. “He was suddenly diagnosed with appendicitis today and has to undergo surgery, meaning he can’t record anymore. Across the entire group, you are the only trainee without an assigned role, and since you already helped block that scene previously, I need you to help us out this once. Consider it me owing you a massive favor, and I promise to properly repay you later.” Pei Yun’s plea carried genuine desperation.
“But I haven’t rehearsed at all, going up on stage tomorrow will definitely be too rushed,” Ji Xing protested.
“I can help adjust the script for you and trim away the sections with heavy dialogue. You already ran through the complex opening minute more than ten times last time, so you’ll definitely be fine,” Pei Yun persuaded earnestly. “Whether this performance happens or not doesn’t really impact me much, and I couldn’t care less about whether that brat Qin Yi survives or sinks. The real issue is that this scene involves another girl who poured half a month of bitter effort into practicing it; it would be an absolute tragedy if she missed her chance to perform.”
Pei Yun wasn’t lying; whether this performance went live or got scrapped carried zero consequences for him. To put it bluntly, his participation in this show was essentially engineered by the original author’s narrative plotting, meaning he couldn’t care less about the surrounding hype or trending topics.
“Teacher Pei… I…”
Ji Xing struggled with turning people down, but recognizing the gravity of the situation, he didn’t dare agree lightly. Leaving aside the repercussions of a botched performance on his own end, his greatest fear was stepping in and performing poorly, ultimately dragging down the other trainee’s hard work.
“My precious, I know you have valid concerns. It’s fine, if you feel awkward telling me directly, you can talk to your Teacher He and let him relay it to me instead.” With that, Pei Yun immediately went to fetch backup, dragging He Mingchen over within minutes.
Before Pei Yun could even open his mouth, He Mingchen interjected in a chilling tone, “Get lost, don’t drag him into whatever mess your group is cooking up.”
The lingering issue regarding Qin Yi targeting Ji Xing had yet to be fully settled; He Mingchen’s reluctance to bully juniors didn’t mean he was willing to let bygones be bygones.
“This is also a valuable training opportunity for Xiao Ji. You know he has the capability, you can’t keep wrapping him in cotton wool forever,” Pei Yun countered, smoothly shifting tactics. “Are you certain you’re doing this for his own good?”
“I don’t need you to teach me how to do my job,” He Mingchen frowned.
“Although you refuse to admit it, I know you had your own private reasons for not assigning Ji Xing a role during the first stage. You already stripped him of one chance to showcase his abilities, are you planning to block him again this time?”
“Stop trying to provoke me, Pei Yun, I’m not buying it.”
“I am simply fighting for a performance opportunity for my trainee; I refuse to watch that girl’s half-month of effort go down the drain.”
As the two men bickered right in front of him, Ji Xing stood silently to the side, not daring to utter a single syllable. At that moment, he actually felt a wave of deep admiration for Pei Yun, who stood his ground against the imposing He Mingchen without yielding an inch. If he had been in that position, his courage would have collapsed at the first sentence.
Amidst his wandering thoughts, He Mingchen suddenly turned his gaze toward him.
“Do you want to do it?” He Mingchen asked.
“I…” Startled, Ji Xing answered instinctively, “I’ll listen to whatever you decide.”
“He Mingchen, look at how much trust Xiao Ji places in you? Put your hand on your heart and ask yourself if you’re worthy of—”
“Shut up and get out.” He Mingchen cut off Pei Yun’s tirade.
Knowing when to quit while he was ahead, Pei Yun winked at Ji Xing and proactively retreated outside the door.
Inside the room, only Ji Xing and He Mingchen remained.
Holding his breath, Ji Xing stayed completely silent, waiting for He Mingchen to speak.
After a long pause, He Mingchen let out a soft sigh.
“Do you remember the lines?” he asked.
“Pretty much, I remember most of them,” Ji Xing answered obediently.
“Go ahead and do it. This really is an exceptional training opportunity. Once you pull off this performance, you’ll officially be an actor capable of saving a show in an emergency,” He Mingchen said.
“What if… I mess it up?” Ji Xing asked quietly.
With a faint, gentle smile, He Mingchen completely shed the tense, combative aura he had brandished against Pei Yun moments ago, his tone turning almost reassuring. “If you mess it up, Pei Yun will be there to clean up the mess. What are you afraid of?”
Remaining silent, Ji Xing still felt lingering doubts gnawing at his chest.
Then, he heard He Mingchen add:
“And if worst comes to worst, you still have me.”
Though the man spoke in a calm, flat tone, his words carried an unshakable foundation of absolute certainty.
Ji Xing felt his heart leap violently within his chest, instantly scattering the vast majority of his earlier anxiety.