“I went to the company executives and signed a gambling agreement,” Chu Xingyun said airily. “If I didn’t make the debut lineup, I would have to pay double the liquidated damages.”
Ye Hancheng clicked his tongue. “…How did you summon that much resolve?”
“I just really wanted to prove myself.” Chu Xingyun spread his hands, looking indifferent. “If I didn’t even have that much courage, I’d be destined to spend forever as a fish on a chopping block.”
“It’s a good thing you succeeded.” Ye Hancheng let out a breath. “Otherwise, I’d be having a heart attack for you today.”
【The Film Emperor has had it too easy, so he never had the chance to witness the dark side of the entertainment industry.】
【Even if his movies or shows flop, aside from the haters, almost no one truly blames him.】
【And that’s exactly why he feels shocked, angry, and indignant right now over Chu Xingyun’s past.】
【What’s more worth discussing is the fearless bravery of that 19-year-old boy.】
【But if he’s so brave, why did he wait until today to come see Cen Jing?】
“I suppose I succeeded…” Chu Xingyun smiled. “There’s a popular saying among the audience: ‘An idol’s most glorious moment is during the show; every step they take afterward is a downhill path.'”
“By glory, you mean the peak of attention, right?”
Chu Xingyun: “That’s right.”
Many people get lost in the “massive momentum” of the moment and cannot accept the subsequent cold shoulder, falling into a slump from which they never recover.
“That’s normal,” Ye Hancheng said, not particularly bothered. “When you have work airing, the audience comes to see you; when you don’t, the crowd naturally disperses. But I can’t agree with the ‘downhill’ sentiment. For those of us in the arts, audience attention is just one metric. You can’t only care about that. Whether it’s an uphill or downhill path—only you, the one walking it, truly knows.”
“…Thank you for the enlightenment.” Chu Xingyun spoke sincerely. “Though I broke free from the cage of that saying long ago, I believe your words will surely encourage many young idols.”
“As long as you don’t think I’m being a ‘know-it-all’ teacher…”
Click—
Ye Hancheng’s words were interrupted by the sound of the balcony door opening.
Cen Jing stood at the door, looking out. “Brother Ye, I brought your luggage along. I put it in Room 2.”
“Ah… oh!” Ye Hancheng seemed to just remember that room assignments were a thing. He stood up abruptly. “It’s time to tidy up the rooms, right?”
“Yes.” Cen Jing nodded. “You need to arrange your own luggage. If you need help…”
“No, no need.” Ye Hancheng scanned the area and found the key to Room 2 in front of him. “I’ll do it myself, I’ll do it myself.”
Before striding away, he specifically leaned into the camera and said, “Don’t misunderstand, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
Cen Jing stepped aside, leaving space for Ye Hancheng to leave.
Once the footsteps faded away, the space returned to silence. Cen Jing stood still, his gaze casting outward again.
The afternoon sun poured down, plating Chu Xingyun’s profile with a fuzzy golden edge. Looking at his ears, which were slightly flushed from the sun, Cen Jing suddenly remembered a cat he had raised as a child. One that often lay by the window basking in the sun.
“Come and pack your luggage,” Cen Jing said, breaking the silence.
Chu Xingyun squinted at him. “Why didn’t you ask me if I needed help?”
“Are you drunk too?”
“Not at all. That little bit of wine wasn’t even enough to make me blush.” Chu Xingyun took a wet wipe from the table and meticulously wiped the fingers he had just used to crack melon seeds. “Go ahead, Brother. I’ll be there in a second.”
Cen Jing stood there watching for a moment longer before turning to leave.
Seven years ago, Chu Xingyun was clearly the type of person who loved to whimper and cling after a bit of alcohol. Now, his face didn’t even turn red.
If Cen Jing hadn’t tasted it himself and if Ye Hancheng wasn’t sitting there with a flushed face. He would have suspected they were drinking fake alcohol.
Inside Room 4, four suitcases lay open on the floor.
Cen Jing had only one silver-gray suitcase; the other three belonged to Chu Xingyun.
“The conditions here are much better than our old dorms.” Chu Xingyun shook out a white sweatshirt and held it up against himself in front of the full-length mirror. “Isn’t that right, Brother?”
Cen Jing had already put away most of his things. “Back then, nine people lived together. It was bound to be a bit crowded.”
After hanging the sweatshirt in the closet, Chu Xingyun felt too lazy to move again. He leaned against the wardrobe, his eyes following Cen Jing’s figure. “Oh right, only three of us lived in our room, and it was those school-style bunk beds. I was assigned the top bunk, but I was always too lazy to climb up, so I’d squeeze in to sleep with you.”
Cen Jing: “…”
…Here he goes again.
But what the man said was indeed the truth.
Cen Jing placed the aromatherapy he brought on the nightstand, his face devoid of any particular expression. “No need to squeeze this time.”
“True, the bed is so big.” Chu Xingyun took two steps toward the bed and flopped straight onto it. “I can roll around to my heart’s content.”
“Before you roll around, you should put your things away,” Cen Jing reminded him.
“I’ve already finished organizing.” Chu Xingyun buried his face in the quilt, his voice muffled. “Whenever I stay in a hotel, I just leave the suitcase open and call it a day…”
【Actually, I’m the same way…】
【It really is asking a lot to expect someone to unpack three suitcases for a 5-day stay.】
【He’s not ‘lazy,’ he just wants to act spoiled with his Brother. (Fact)】
【Did the time on the balcony purify all the resentment out of him? [Amen]】
“…You’re recording a show right now.” Cen Jing’s tall figure blocked the slanted sunlight. “Have some concern for your image.”
Chu Xingyun buried himself deeper: “I don’t want an image anymore.”
Cen Jing: “…”
Resigned to his fate, he knelt down by one of Chu Xingyun’s suitcases. “I’ll help you.”
“Thanks, Brother.” Chu Xingyun agreed instantly and scrambled up from the bed to sit on the edge. He swung his legs lightly, his eyes curving into bright arcs.
By the time the six of them gathered again, it was 4:00 PM.
A small table next to the PD held a lottery box.
“Welcome to today’s ‘Ask the Netizens’ segment.” After a few pleasantries, the PD got straight to the point. “This box contains 100 random questions collected from netizens in advance. We will draw 20 of them as a warm-up before the afternoon session officially begins. Please answer honestly, guests. If you’re caught lying, there will be a punishment!”
Lin Shen raised a question: “What does ‘random’ mean?”
“Random means random.” After the PD uttered this innocent bit of nonsense, he explained: “We used technology to randomly select question numbers to avoid forcing everyone to respond to the few ‘high-demand’ questions.”
【High-demand questions? That costs extra!】
【What a sly production crew.】
【If these are all trivial questions, I’m going to blow up the studio tonight. [Smile]】
“Of course, high-demand questions have the same chance of being drawn—it all depends on luck,” the PD added with a chuckle.
“Fine, let’s start then.” Lin Shen nodded in agreement. The others naturally had no objections.
Without further ado, the PD reached into the box and pulled out the first question: “I want to ask Jiang Xun: out of all the support players you’ve partnered with, who is your favorite?”
Jiang Xun glanced sideways at Chen Shu and said as a matter of course, “What kind of nonsense question is that? Su Yue, obviously.”
Su Yue was his current team’s support; they had only been playing together for one season.
“Exactly.” Chu Xingyun used his gaze to condemn the production crew. “If you ask a man currently in a relationship which of his many exes he likes best, any normal man would give the name of his current partner, right?”
While Cen Jing was helping pack the luggage, a bored Chu Xingyun had already thoroughly researched the love-hate history between Jiang Xun and Chen Shu.
Jiang Xun’s face instantly turned crimson. “…What a crappy analogy. I’m not that fickle.”
In his 5-year career, he had partnered with a total of six support players.
“Oh… not that fickle,” Chu Xingyun repeated.
“You…” Jiang Xun felt like there was a hidden meaning in those words, but he didn’t understand what it was. “…It’s the truth.”
Chen Shu: “Next question.”
“Ahem…” The PD pulled back their attention and drew the second question. “I want to ask Teacher Lin: is your next script finished? Hmm… looks like a ‘career fan’ asked this.”
“Not yet,” Lin Shen said seriously. “Maybe I’ll get some inspiration after finishing this show.”
“Are you going to write me as the protagonist?” Jiang Xun’s mouth was itching, and he couldn’t resist chiming in.
Lin Shen looked at him with a kind gaze: “Maybe?”
Jiang Xun reminded him seriously: “Find someone handsome to play the part.”
Lin Shen: “…Sure.”
Chu Xingyun: “If you find someone handsome, the character design will collapse.”
“Ahem, next question.” Fearing those two would start bickering again, the PD quickly pulled out another slip of paper. “I want to ask Chu Xingyun: what is your ideal type? Good question.”
Several pairs of eyes in the room landed on Chu Xingyun simultaneously.
He unhurriedly took a sip of coffee and gave a fairly standard answer: “…If I had to say, it would be someone who can tolerate my eccentric temper.”
Ye Hancheng was the first to comment: “So your ideal type is your vast number of fans?”
After all, only fans would unconditionally dote on their idol.
Chen Shu added: “…Fan-pandering?”
Jiang Xun rolled his eyes hard: “Contemptible.”
Chu Xingyun: “…”
Forget it. He couldn’t explain it clearly anyway; let them misunderstand.
“That’s a perfect answer,” the PD sighed. “Come on, next one… I want to ask Jiang Xun: after the fallout with Chen Shu, have you ever dreamed of him again? If so, please state the content of the dream directly.”
“Why me again…” Jiang Xun grabbed his hair, his eyes wide. “Are you targeting me?”
The PD spread his hands innocently: “Actually, out of these 100 questions, the ones about you are the fewest. You just happen to have good luck ^_^…”
“Tch…” Jiang Xun looked annoyed, but still answered honestly: “I have dreamed of him. I dreamed of the scene where we held the trophy on the World Championship stage back then.”
Chen Shu lifted his gaze toward Jiang Xun.
Chu Xingyun wore a casual smile. “I’ve heard that dreams actually compensate for your real-life regrets. For example, trainees who didn’t make the debut lineup dream they made it; kids who dropped out dream of studying in a classroom… But you actually held the trophy, so why would you dream of that moment again?”
Jiang Xun’s mouth twitched, and he gave Chu Xingyun the middle finger from across the room. “…”
He understood the hidden meaning this time, because he had compensated for a regret in that dream.
Simply put: the mouth he didn’t have the courage to kiss in reality, he kissed in the dream.
Chu Xingyun playfully repeated: “Why, indeed?”
Jiang Xun gritted his teeth: “I. DON’T. KNOW!”
“Dreams are chaotic and beyond our control,” Cen Jing said, stepping in to bail Jiang Xun out. “There doesn’t have to be a reason.” He turned his face to look at Chu Xingyun. “…Stop looking for trouble on purpose.”
“I’m not looking for trouble… I’m just curious.” Chu Xingyun puffed his cheeks slightly and muttered in a low voice, “Besides, the audience loves watching this.”
【Yes, we love watching this. (Nods)】
【Jiang Xun is so easy to read. There must be some secret we don’t know about that ‘trophy’ dream.】
【Maybe he misses the glorious times? After all, his best result since then was only a league runner-up and a Worlds semi-finalist.】
【I see Jiang Xun is already gearing up to find trouble with Chu Xingyun. Someone, give him a question—】
“The fifth question, for Chu Xingyun.” Perhaps hearing the call of the bullet comments, the PD actually drew one. “…Are you a virgin?”