Shang Xueyan thanked the girl, took the water, tilted his head back, and gulped down more than half the bottle.
Crystal-clear droplets slid from the corner of the young man’s lips, and he casually wiped them away with his finger before twisting the cap back on the mineral water bottle.
The girl stared at his face, her expression gradually turning serious. “Shang Xueyan, if the boss knew what you looked like, I doubt he’d have you wearing the mascot costume to hand out flyers.”
“Your face is way more eye-catching than that mascot suit.”
Shang Xueyan gave a hearty laugh. “Then call the boss right now and tell him.”
The girl pretended to pull out her phone. “I’m calling right now.”
The two chatted for a while. After resting a few minutes, Shang Xueyan put the mascot costume hat back on and dutifully continued his work.
At five in the afternoon, his shift ended. When he took off the heavy mascot costume, he felt so light he could’ve floated up to the heavens. His wages were paid daily, and he received three hundred yuan for the day’s work.
The art training center didn’t provide dinner, so he found a noodle shop that didn’t look too expensive from the front, ordered a three-liang serving of zhajiang noodles, and paid the bill. Shang Xueyan planned to head out for food delivery next, working until one or two in the morning, if luck was on his side, he should be able to earn another two or three hundred.
Before he could even step out of the noodle shop, his phone rang. Someone was calling him.
The caller was Wang Xiantao, a friend of the original owner. Ever since the original owner had been blacklisted by his company, betrayed by his friend, and slandered with vicious words by netizens who didn’t know the truth, he’d been drifting aimlessly, his spirits crushed. After Shang Xueyan had taken over this body, he’d set himself a small goal of first terminating his contract, and a bigger goal of hopefully gaining some fame, making the name Shang Xueyan known to many people.
The company wouldn’t give him any resources, so Shang Xueyan could only audition for minor bit parts. When Wang Xiantao learned of his plans, out of sympathy, he’d introduced him to two roles. Wang Xiantao was an independent in the entertainment industry no fame, no connections and could only land roles as the Nth male lead in long dramas himself. The parts he introduced to Shang Xueyan were all just extras.
But in the entertainment industry, extras with lines and distinctive traits didn’t get paid badly at the very least, it was better than food delivery, and they’d even get a moment on TV. Shang Xueyan had always been grateful to him, and over the past three months of getting along, he’d come to regard Wang Xiantao as a good friend.
Although he’d inherited the original owner’s memories, and Jiang Lan’s betrayal felt branded into his very body, Shang Xueyan believed that people like Jiang Lan, who repaid kindness with enmity and were utterly heartless were the minority. Warm-hearted, kind brothers like Wang Xiantao surely outnumbered them.
“Shang Xueyan, are you free tonight?” Wang Xiantao’s tone was somewhat excited. “Remember that crew head in Hengdian I met last month? He’s going to a dinner party tonight. Apparently several directors and producers will be there, looking to cast some actors for a new production. Want to come with me?”
Wang Xiantao continued, “I’m not saying we’ll land the male lead or second or third lead, but with some luck, who knows we might snag a small role. Apparently one of the directors there shot Records of Wind and Cloud.”
Records of Wind and Cloud was a massively popular male-oriented drama from two years ago, one the original owner had even followed.
“I’m free. Where are you? But can I actually come?” Shang Xueyan said.
Wang Xiantao told him the location the name of a business club and added, “Of course you can come. Tonight, Brother Chen has organized a dozen or so men and women to meet the directors. I showed him your photos and videos, and he said you have great potential. Who knows, you might even get picked by a director for a major role.”
“Alright, I’ll be right over.”
“Dress sharp. Let’s make a good impression on the directors.”
“Don’t worry.”
Shang Xueyan had originally planned to ride his electric scooter to the subway and then take the train to the club, but after his friend’s reminder, he realized there was still time. He hurried home, took a shower and washed his hair, then changed into a clean, fresh set of clothes.
Shang Xueyan currently lived in a shared apartment in an old residential complex a two-bedroom, one-living-room unit that had been converted into four rooms with no common area. His bedroom was exactly the space partitioned off from the living room: a long, narrow strip. Against the wall by the entrance sat a single bed one meter wide, leaving just enough aisle space to walk through.
At the foot of the bed was a flimsy plastic wardrobe he’d bought for sixty-two yuan on Pinduoduo. The living room window, a vertical slit barely as wide as a fingernail, faced the wall of the building across from his room, so the room barely got any daylight even at noon, he had to turn on the lights to see.
The original owner had started out acting in short dramas with modest pay. After signing with Tianli Entertainment, his first role as a supporting male lead didn’t earn much either, and he’d sent most of it to the orphanage where he’d grown up.
Soon after, a shake-up among the company’s top executives occurred, and Lu Han blacklisted him after failing to force him into a casting-couch arrangement. The original owner essentially lost his income. By the time Shang Xueyan had taken over this body, there was only fifty yuan left in the bank account.
At the time, the original owner’s lease had expired, and Shang Xueyan had no other choice but to find a cheap, run-down partitioned room to rent. Two months ago, he’d wanted to move out, but Shen Mengkun’s younger sister had leukemia, and he’d lent all his earnings to Shen Mengkun, so he had to keep living in the shoddily renovated apartment.
Anyway, he wasn’t home during the day he only came back at night to sleep. Besides, things from a thousand years later were indeed good. The mattress he’d bought for a hundred and twenty-six yuan wasn’t much worse than the golden goose-down bedding he’d slept on in his previous life.
Moreover, he’d had enough of living in grand, opulent mansions in his past life. A tiny bedroom actually gave him a sense of security.
Shang Xueyan pulled open the plastic wardrobe with two broken zipper teeth, rummaged through the few remaining clothes for a while, and finally picked a cream-colored hoodie and black casual trousers. He ran his fingers through his hair a couple of times, stood in front of the full-length mirror he’d bought for fifteen yuan, tousled his hair again, and left, satisfied.
A gentle evening breeze brushed past him as he rode his secondhand electric scooter to the subway entrance, then took the train to the place Wang Xiantao had mentioned.
“Brother Chen, this is the friend I told you about Shang Xueyan.” Wang Xiantao introduced Shang Xueyan to Chen Ping with a beaming smile.
Chen Ping looked Shang Xueyan up and down, then his thick lips curled upward into a smile. Satisfied, he said, “Let’s go, head inside. The directors are all here.”
Besides Shang Xueyan and Wang Xiantao, there were six or seven tall, long-legged men and women in the lobby. Brother Chen gave everyone a friendly yet threatening reminder: “The directors are all in the private room now. Everyone, do your best when you go in. Who knows maybe by tomorrow you’ll have soared to the top. If you land a good role, none of you will have to be extras anymore.”
Wang Xiantao said, “Brother Chen, don’t worry. We’ll definitely give it our all.”
Chen Ping led the group upstairs. Wang Xiantao draped his arm over Shang Xueyan’s shoulder as the two walked at the very back of the crowd. “Bro, it’s only been half a month, how’d you lose another whole size around the waist?”
“Isn’t this just to look better on camera?” Shang Xueyan replied lightly, his own arm resting on Wang Xiantao’s shoulder in return.
“Bullshit,” Wang Xiantao said with a hint of envy. “With a face like yours, you’d look good plump or skinny.”
Shang Xueyan broke into a smile.
This life’s face wasn’t identical to the one from his past life, but it was ninety percent similar. The remaining ten percent was because he was a bit thinner now than before but either way, it was a good look.
As they chatted, they reached the private room door. Noticing Wang Xiantao’s shoelace had come loose, Shang Xueyan pointed at it. Wang Xiantao immediately let go of Shang Xueyan, bent down, and tied it up.
Once Wang Xiantao had finished, Shang Xueyan pulled open the half-closed door and gestured for him to enter with a sideways nod. Wang Xiantao stepped inside, and Shang Xueyan followed right behind.
As he walked through the cream-white door of the private room, the door of the room diagonally across was just being pushed open by a large hand with clearly defined knuckles. The moment his gaze landed on the back of a young man two meters away, the young man’s figure froze for a split second.
The boy who’d entered the room didn’t look back, closing the door behind him. The cream-white aluminum door cut off the young man’s dazed stare. Shang Xianwang snapped back to himself, phone in hand, and left the private room.
Inside the room, the lighting was dim and mottled. Several middle-aged men with beer bellies sat on the iron-gray leather sofa, two of them bald.
Chen Ping, who’d been somewhat arrogant in front of them just moments before, now bent over one by one to exchange pleasantries, addressing this one as “Boss” and that one as “Director.” When he turned to instruct the young actors, his tone regained its condescension: “Everyone, keep the bosses and directors good company chat, play some games.”
Shang Xueyan had never been to a place like this and felt out of his element. Wang Xiantao wasn’t exactly comfortable either, though he did recognize one director he’d worked with before though he’d played a throwaway role in that production, so the man probably didn’t even know who he was.
Wang Xiantao grabbed a can of beer and sat down beside that director.
Shang Xueyan hesitated for a moment, then chose a quiet corner to sit. He pulled out his phone, intending to find a few of his audition clips to recommend one by one to the directors or producers later.
Sure, if he landed a major role, that bastard Lu would shamelessly bombard the production crew, but not every crew was afraid of that tactic. Maybe he’d run into a director who appreciated his talent and wouldn’t bother with Lu Han. Besides, having something like that happen would work in his favor later if he had to take the case to court to break his contract.
Before he could pick which audition clip to use, the sofa beside him suddenly sank. A middle-aged man in a white shirt sat down next to him.
The man wasn’t as tall as Shang Xueyan, but with a four-to-six body proportion, he was roughly level with Shang Xueyan when seated. A gentle smile hung on his face as he handed Shang Xueyan a glass of champagne. “What’s your name?”
Shang Xueyan had a good memory and recalled that Chen Ping had just called him Director Xu. “Director Xu, my name is Shang Xueyan.”
Shang Xueyan reached out to take the goblet. As he did, the man’s short, thick fingers brushed across the back of Shang Xueyan’s hand in a seemingly casual motion.
Shang Xueyan’s brow furrowed slightly. He took a small sip of the champagne, set it aside, and opened the audition clip he’d just selected, handing his phone to Xu Dakang.
“Director Xu, please take a look. This is a screen test clip of mine, I auditioned for the role of a refined, scholarly young man.”
“Alright, let me see.” Xu Dakang took the phone.
Seeing him lower his head and focus intently on watching her screen test, Shang Xueyan felt much of that strange unease fade away.
The screen test clip was only two minutes long and finished in the blink of an eye. Shang Xueyan began to lay out her strengths to the director, “Director Xu, I’ve also studied martial arts, so I can definitely handle action scenes. And I’m skilled in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting playing period roles comes to me effortlessly.”
Music, chess, calligraphy, and painting Shang Xueyan had only studied them half-heartedly, but this was an interview, and jobs were so hard to come by. Wasn’t it only natural to exaggerate her skills a bit? That was a lesson Shang Xueyan had summed up from her own experience.
Of course, only touting her strengths for period dramas wasn’t enough either, who knew if this director was working on a modern piece?
“Though I’ve done plenty of modern roles too younger brothers, sons, campus heartthrobs, school bullies, delinquents, CEO assistants, overworked office drones, I’ve played them all.”
“Little Shang, I can see you’ve got real talent.” The man said with a beaming smile.
Shang Xueyan’s whole body suddenly stiffened.
Because a pudgy hand had pressed down on his thigh not a light, casual touch, but a firm grip that squeezed slightly. Then it began to move upward, sliding under the hem of his hoodie.
“I’ve got a role here that would really suit you.”
Damn, another filthy scumbag stirring up trouble!
Disgust surged into Shang Xueyan’s chest. Seeing the old lecher’s sleazy gaze, he grabbed the goblet from the coffee table and, with swift motion, splashed the entire glass of champagne into the man’s face.
The man froze in shock, then wiped his drenched face with his hand and snarled furiously, “Shang Xueyan, do you have a death wish or what?”
His gaze swept across the private room he spotted a male producer’s hand already slipping inside a boy’s collar, and two others feeding each other alcohol mouth-to-mouth. Shang Xueyan slowly realized what kind of place he had walked into.
Chen Ping hurriedly handed Xu Dakang two tissues to wipe the alcohol from his face, then barked angrily, “Shang Xueyan, apologize to Director Xu right now! Do you want to keep working in this industry or not?”
Shang Xueyan turned to leave. He had come looking for job opportunities, not to be groped by filthy scumbags.
He took a deep breath, thought about his current situation, and still quickly muttered, “Director Xu, sorry.”
With that, not wanting to see the expressions on Xu Dakang’s or Chen Ping’s faces, he made up a lame excuse about a stomachache and strode quickly out of the private room.
Once outside, free from that nauseating mix of cigarette smoke, assorted alcohol, and the heavy, rank stench of men’s bodies, Shang Xueyan felt much better.
He had just come down the steps and reached the club’s lobby when a familiar voice rang out behind him, Wang Xiantao calling his name.
Shang Xueyan turned around, arms crossed, no smile on his face, standing at the foot of the stairs waiting for him.
Wang Xiantao, with his long legs, bounded down three steps at a time and stood before Xueyan in seconds. He cursed under his breath and rubbed his own arms, “Damn, Shang Xueyan, I really had no idea tonight was that kind of gathering. If I’d known, I never would’ve called you here.”
Wang Xiantao was equally disgusted, his whole body breaking out in goosebumps.
Shang Xueyan thought about it and figured he really didn’t know what kind of setup this was. “It’s fine, not your fault. So, are you going back?”
“Going back my ass. I’m here to perform, not to sell myself.”
Wang Xiantao draped his arm over Shang Xueyan’s shoulder. “Come on, come on. I know there’s a barbecue joint in the alley up ahead, their grilled lamb is out of this world. I’ll treat you to some skewers.”
Lately, Shang Xueyan had been scrimping and saving to make money, not even daring to step into fast-food joints that were too nicely decorated, let alone go out for barbecue.
He immediately forgot the sickening feeling from the private room. Shang Xueyan was naturally open-minded and optimistic by nature, skilled at letting go of unpleasant memories and always seeking out things full of hope and joy.
The two young men chatted and laughed as they left the club. At the same time, Shang Xianwang sat in a private room at the club. That night, he was meeting a supplier out of respect for a business partner.
After a few minutes of discussing supply matters, Shang Xianwang’s mind began to wander again. The image of the boy’s back he’d glimpsed when he opened the door earlier kept swirling through his head.
Shang Xianwang’s fingers trembled uncontrollably. That silhouette the height was exactly the same as Ayan’s, and the back of the head was perfectly round, just like Ayan’s too.
“President Shang, if you have time, you should come tour our factory. We just brought in two new smart production lines…” the middle-aged man rattled on.
But Shang Xianwang abruptly stood up. The few people in the room jumped, staring at him in confusion. Shang Xueyan didn’t bother explaining to them either he strode toward the door, and Assistant Wang, seeing this, hurriedly scrambled to follow.
Shang Xianwang opened the door of his own room and went straight for the handle of the room diagonally across.
Chen Ping was entertaining a few directors and producers, having one of his young boys perform a dance. The door was suddenly yanked open by someone. Their room was lit with dazzling, shifting strobe lights, making it impossible to make out who had come in they could only vaguely tell that the person was exceptionally tall, with a straight, imposing build and an intimidating presence.
“Who the hell are you?” Chen Ping snapped irritably.
Shang Xianwang raised his hand, flicked on the main light on the wall, and cut off the wailing music blaring in the room.
“The fuck are you? Get the hell out of here!” Chen Ping stood up and roared.
Shang Xianwang ignored him completely, walking toward the sofa as his gaze swept over the people seated there.
On the outermost leather couch sat a boy in an off-white hoodie. He looked at Shang Xianwang with a bewildered expression. His hair was jet black, his eyes were fairly large but single-lidded, his nose was a bit flat, and his lips bore no resemblance whatsoever to the ones in Shang Xianwang’s memory. He was holding up a glass of champagne, about to feed it to the middle-aged man beside him.
Even though he’d already anticipated it that even if the back view was somewhat similar, it couldn’t possibly be him,
The truth, now undeniably right before his eyes, shattered the faint sliver of hope in his heart. Shang Xianwang felt as though his soul had been drained dry once again, leaving nothing but a hollow shell behind.