Lucheng is the most tropical coastal tourist city in the country, attracting numerous travelers for vacations each year. Many TV shows and movies are also filmed here, taking advantage of its unique seaside scenery.
Along the coastline, there are various types of seaside hotels. Although the production budget is limited, the crew couldn’t afford the most luxurious hotels but, given the well-developed hotel industry in the area and the fact that it’s the off-season, the Maple Leaf Hotel, where the protagonist Jiang Yin is staying, is quite decent. As the lead actor, Jiang Yin even got the most luxurious suite, and when he opens the glass door of the balcony, the sea breeze greets him.
On the first day of Jiang Yin’s arrival, he was so excited that he couldn’t sleep. In his previous life, not to mention the sea, he hadn’t even climbed a mountain. That night, he got up alone and strolled on the beach until dawn, also taking the opportunity to admire the sunrise.
The hotel lobby is decorated luxuriously with a magnificent golden entrance. There is an indoor rockery fish pond at the entrance, housing about ten colorful koi, which looks very beautiful. When Jiang Yin came down, he saw Zhao Yansen standing by the pond, feeding the fish. Jiang Yin didn’t know where he got the fish food.
If Jiang Yin didn’t know who he was, just judging from his back, his posture and movements could easily make people believe he was in his forties or fifties. Especially the clothes he wore, not that they were ugly—quite the opposite—they were stylish. However, the style was most commonly seen, either on Director Liang, who is almost sixty, or the old man who practices Tai Chi in the neighborhood park every morning.
Jiang Yin is curious about how Zhao Yansen developed such a personality. Modern people are generally late bloomers, and at twenty-nine, most people still consider themselves young with plenty of time to enjoy life. Especially men tend to be more carefree, but he seems to have pressed the fast-forward button on life, displaying a stability that is uncommon for someone his age.
His maturity is not like that of Qi Baijia or Jiang Ai, who show a maturity beyond their peers, but rather an overall maturity from the inside out. From words and actions to behavior, he lives like someone in their forties or fifties, completely devoid of the youthful vibe.
After spending a few months in this world after time traveling, Jiang Yin has met quite a few people, with various personalities and thoughts, but there’s only one person like Zhao Yansen.
It’s the hottest time of the day, and tourists are either at the attractions or resting in their rooms. The lobby is quiet with only staff members present. Two receptionists at the front desk keep glancing at Zhao Yansen.
“President Zhao,” Jiang Yin quickly walks a few steps in his slippers, making a clattering sound as they collide with the marble floor. Zhao Yansen turns around.
Worried that he might have kept him waiting, Jiang Yin only wiped his face, chewed a piece of orange-flavored gum, and came down. His hair was messy, exploding on his head, wearing a tank top and shorts, completely devoid of any image.
Zhao Yansen is a bit surprised. It’s the first time he has seen a celebrity looking so disheveled. Regardless of whether it’s a star or a company employee, anyone appearing in front of him is usually glamorous.
“I’m sorry to make you come all the way here,” Jiang Yin said unconsciously. He didn’t have the intention to cling to Zhao Yansen’s fame, nor did he want to showcase his self-awareness to attract attention. The Emperor, His Majesty, although usually amiable, is fundamentally self-centered. For him, everyone tries various ways to seek his attention, with no concept of actively paying attention to others. He’s accustomed to prioritizing his own convenience in everything.
“No problem, it’s on my way,” Zhao Yansen threw the remaining fish food into the pond, wiped the residue off his hands, then took out a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his hands.
Seeing this, Jiang Yin withdrew his hand, which was ready to reach into his pocket for wet tissues. Even he, a genuine antique, uses wet tissues. Surprisingly, there are still people using handkerchiefs.
“Manners,” he muttered in his mind, and said politely, “Thank you for coming all the way on such a hot day. Let me treat you to a meal when there’s a chance.”
He said casually, not expecting Zhao Yansen to agree. “Sure,” he not only agreed but also looked at him seriously after speaking. He advised, “I saw your recent posts on social media. Filming seems tough lately? Young people shouldn’t be afraid of hardship. Compared to others, your job is already relatively easy. Visit those companies and see, everyone works from nine to five and still needs to work overtime. People your age are diligently studying at school. The difficulties you face now are valuable experiences.”
Jiang Yin tactfully replied, “My work-related accounts are usually managed by my agent.”
Considering that the original owner is young and might accidentally post something inappropriate and cause trouble, all social media accounts are managed by Chen Dan. WeChat is somewhat better, as long as he doesn’t post on Moments or chat randomly with unfamiliar people, Chen Dan lets him be. The Weibo account is directly on Chen Dan’s phone, and he doesn’t even know the password.
He usually uses a secondary account to browse Weibo, just in case of a slip of the hand. Although he’s just an eighteen-liner, precautionary measures must be taken to avoid any old issues if he becomes famous in the future.
Jiang Yin, after arriving in this world, was busy learning about it and didn’t pay much attention to these details. He still maintains the same pattern. Those posts showing hardship on his Moments were all posted by Chen Dan, aimed at directors and producers, etc. While a few Moments won’t land him a role, the impression still needs to be built. Being quiet and unobtrusive won’t help. Who knows if there’s someone like him.
In Chen Dan’s words, opportunities are for prepared people. Even if it’s a show, it must be done. The era of silently working hard and waiting for others to notice has passed. Doing well without having a presence is useless. Shenghui, where Han Lingran is, is an example. Almost all the artists under its banner are created through marketing, regardless of whether they have works or their reputation. At least, it lets everyone know there is such a celebrity. Visit novelping(.)com for the full chapter.
In addition, you can also “torture” the fans a bit. Jiang Yin’s WeChat doesn’t have fans, but there will be “my classmates,” “my colleagues,” “my bestie,” etc., appearing. Screenshots can be sent to the fan group, and this kind of thing is difficult to prevent anyway. It’s better to take the initiative.
Although Jiang Yin doesn’t have many fans, his character in the previous TV series was likable, and he has quite a few die-hard fans. In recent years, the trend of nurturing-idol has risen, and the company and Chen Dan initially planned this route for him. The careful cultivation back then did indeed capture quite a few fans.
Chen Dan has been in contact with several leading big fans under the guise of an assistant.
As for the “torturing” of fans, it’s already an industry consensus, and almost every celebrity does it to enhance fan cohesion.
Various methods of “torturing” fans abound, and what Jiang Yin does can be considered the most basic—sharing his own struggles to make fans feel sorry for their idol, understanding the effort he puts into his work.
Actually, Jiang Yin finds it quite strange. In his view, being a celebrity is just like being a teacher, doctor, or police officer—it’s a profession. If an actor has poor acting skills or a singer sings off-key, it’s akin to a teacher not being able to teach or a doctor lacking medical skills. Yet, the former still has fans supporting and praising them, while the latter, once discovered, is likely to face numerous criticisms. Even though both are professions, the difference is vast.
When a celebrity makes a little effort and shows improvement, fans cheer and praise enthusiastically, as if this is an extraordinary achievement. However, this is just their job, what they should be doing. Their hard work and efforts are what they should contribute to their profession. After all, they receive a salary—shouldn’t they fulfill the tasks assigned by their boss?
Tasks assigned by the boss should at least reach a passing grade, if not perfection. However, in the entertainment industry, many celebrities don’t even meet the minimum standards. Yet, they are still adored by fans.
Even a bit more effort, like not using a stunt double and getting a minor injury, is considered dedication. Isn’t this something they should be doing in the first place?
Jiang Yin recalls seeing a celebrity’s hospitalization trending on Weibo. Fans were crying and expressing extreme sadness. Curious, he clicked on it, thinking something serious had happened. To his surprise, it was just a common cold, and the celebrity had gone to the hospital for intravenous therapy.
At that moment, he casually posted a confused black person’s face emoji on his secondary account.
Jiang Yin thinks this topic is worth researching and organizing properly.
Returning to the current conversation, he didn’t expect Zhao Yansen to follow his Moments. Although they had resolved their past issues and exchanged WeChat contacts, there was no clear intention from either side to continue interacting. Jiang Yin initially thought Zhao Yansen wouldn’t bother with someone like him, but surprisingly, he remembered what he posted on Moments.
Moreover, Zhao Yansen didn’t seem upset about his words. On the contrary, he nodded understandingly and earnestly advised him, “You’re a celebrity, and you should indeed pay attention to this aspect.”
A strange emotion briefly passes through Jiang Yin’s mind. He feels like Zhao Yansen is treating him with the attitude of a son—or rather, a nephew. Pah, the feeling is akin to how Dad Jiang treats “Jiang Yin” in his memories.
Before he can delve deeper into this thought, Zhao Yansen pushes the suitcase placed on the ground towards him. “The packaging box is too big and inconvenient to carry. I packed it in the suitcase. Let’s take it up together. It’s also more convenient.”
Jiang Yin didn’t refuse, “No need, no need. I can carry the things upstairs. The plush toys are not heavy.”
Thanks to the original owner’s pursuit of luxury brands, he could immediately recognize the value of this suitcase—probably at least twice the value of the plush toys inside.
Zhao Yansen said, “I mean, you can carry it upstairs and then bring the empty suitcase back down.”
Jiang Yin: “…”
Merchants are indeed merchants.
He sighs inwardly. As the saying goes, “Thirty years on the east bank of the river, thirty years on the west bank.” If this were in his previous life, he could just demand whatever he wanted, and those merchants would obediently present it. But with the passage of time, centuries later, merchants have become the mainstream. If those ministers who used to look down on merchants knew about it, they would probably be furious. Find the original chapter at novelping . com.
Thinking of this, Jiang Yin finds it amusing. Anything that displeases those conservative ministers is worth a good laugh.
The Emperor, His Majesty’s teenage rebellion finally arrives.
Since Zhao Yansen suggested it, Jiang Yin doesn’t hesitate to pick up the suitcase and get ready to go upstairs.
“You’re not going to open and check it?” Zhao Yansen asks.
Jiang Yin hesitates slightly, “No need. I trust Peng Peng, oh, and I trust you too.”
Zhao Yansen disagrees, “It’s better to check. Just because Peng Peng and I won’t deceive you doesn’t mean others won’t. You can’t be too trusting.”
Jiang Yin can’t help but laugh, and indeed, he couldn’t hold back the laughter.
Zhao Yansen frowns, wondering what’s so funny.
Jiang Yin tries to contain his laughter and honestly says, “You remind me of the headmaster.”
To be precise, the Grand Tutor.
“Your tone and expression are exactly the same as his.” He couldn’t hold back his laughter, “Especially when he was lecturing me.”
Zhao Yansen is taken aback and then chuckles helplessly, “Sorry, I have a lot of younger relatives at home. I have to discipline them frequently. It’s become a habit, a professional habit, I guess.”
“No, no, no, that’s not what I mean.” Jiang Yin could now confirm that Zhao Yansen’s temperament was truly good, completely unlike the CEO protagonists in the novels he had read before – those cold, domineering, and charming figures. Zhao Yansen treated people kindly and politely, without any condescending discrimination. His heart was broad-minded, capable of tolerating even Jiang Yin.
As someone in a superior position, Jiang Yin felt the need to learn from him. He realized that his own temper was not good, and his heart was not open. He held grudges, but he suppressed them due to his identity.
In this second chance at life, he needed to make progress and become a better person.
“I know you mean well,” he sincerely said, “Thank you.”
In the modern world where even the elderly dared not help when someone fell, it was rare to find someone willing to guide him aside from his parents. Especially someone not very familiar, like Zhao Yansen.
Zhao Yansen felt a deep sense of satisfaction. His caring heart was fulfilled. He was aware that this habit of his was not good; the younger generation tended to avoid him, but he couldn’t help feeling responsible due to his age.
At the same time, a burden was placed on his shoulders. He felt the need to watch over Jiang Yin closely and ensure he didn’t stray.
The author has something to say:
Apologies, I was on a business trip for a week, just returned today, and almost froze to death at the airport due to the sudden drop in temperature T T.
Also, it’s the end of the year, and with a colleague on maternity leave, I have a lot of work on my plate, leading to irregular updates. This chapter might take a more casual route, but it won’t be abandoned. I sincerely apologize.