After Transmigrating into the Main Shou, I Topped the Paranoid Big Shot 4

Chapter 4

While DAVID magazine was risqué, it was ultimately a milder, female-oriented publication and couldn’t be considered vulgar. Otherwise, it couldn’t have launched the careers of young celebrities as An Lan had said, but would have instead left a black mark on their resumes.

Not only did the photographer not make him shove certain body parts directly into the camera, but not a single photo even showed the entirety of his underwear. He was either turned to the side or had a leg raised to block the view.
There was one shot where he was facing forward with his legs spread, but his hands were hanging down between them, covering everything securely, revealing only a tiny bit of black fabric.

It was as if he were wearing underwear, yet not wearing it at all.
Like he was streaking in front of the camera.

His ears grew slightly hot, and Zong Mo quickly covered them. It’s not like he hadn’t seen underwear models online before. Even photos of them in tight underwear weren’t this lewd, were they??

When the photos were enlarged, there was something even more amiss.
He had no idea he had been looking at Ruan Chi with such an expression.

His gaze was hazy, veiled in a faint, ethereal mist. His lowered eyelashes cast deep, inscrutable shadows, and the redness of his eyes added an indescribable touch of lust.
He knew that expression was because he hadn’t woken up properly.
But other people would absolutely not think that.

Even without considering the scratches on his back, just looking at that expression from an audience’s perspective, it looked like he was gazing at a lover after sex.
To some extent, that interpretation was rather close to the truth.

He looked again at the silent Ruan Chi.

Ruan Chi was meticulous. He spent a good ten minutes inspecting every single photo to ensure none were missed.
Only then did he say, “I’m buying this set of photos.”

The photographer asked, “CEO Chi, do you mean you want to buy the rejected shots that weren’t selected for the magazine?”

“The entire set,” Ruan Chi added concisely. “A complete buyout. Understand?”

Photographer: ?

The editor-in-chief rushed over, wiping sweat from his brow as he said, “CEO Chi, Zong Mo is the cover model for the next issue. Do you mean you want to…”
Break the contract?

They were quite reluctant to part with Zong Mo’s looks and body, but accepting a penalty fee and finding a last-minute replacement wasn’t too much trouble.
The cover model spot was something An Lan had fought hard to get. For a “vase” like Zong Mo, who only had his face and no acting skills, and couldn’t get famous no matter how good his film and TV resources were, this was a huge opportunity.

[T.N: Vase: A derogatory slang term for an actor or actress who is very attractive but lacks acting talent, essentially just there for decoration.]

With his thirty years of sharp industry experience, the editor-in-chief could already guarantee that this set of photos would definitely attract a wave of “body fans”!

[T.N: Body Fans: A term for fans who are attracted to a celebrity primarily for their physical appearance and body, rather than their talent or personality.]

It wasn’t impossible that it could even elevate their magazine’s status along with him!
But Zong… An Lan’s sponsor, actually wanted to break the contract?
He felt a pang of regret. The one who would lose out the most was Zong Mo himself.

An Lan was extremely anxious and also came over.
Sponsorship was a matter of mutual benefit. Zong Mo had indeed received many advantages, so he should also satisfy his sponsor’s unreasonable demands.
An Lan wasn’t sure if the pile of resources Ruan Chi had forced on him were truly for Zong Mo’s future. Two years had passed, and Zong Mo was still lukewarm, with more haters than fans.
How many “two years” does a young celebrity who relies on his face have?

Several people hesitated, wanting to speak but holding back. Ruan Chi, however, slowly and unhurriedly said:
“The cover model, of course, is still Zong Mo.”

An Lan let out a sigh of relief first, then frowned in confusion. The editor-in-chief prepared himself for the sponsor’s unreasonable antics.
Zong Mo was completely unaware of the internal struggles of the others, but he understood what a buyout meant and suspected he would have to shoot for several more hours.
He really wanted to sleep…

Ruan Chi quickly shattered his last sliver of hope, saying, “Shoot another set.”
“No legs or chest can be shown.”

Zong Mo and several staff members: ?
Is anything below the collarbone not allowed to be described?

The editor-in-chief tried to probe the sponsor’s inscrutable mind with a joke, asking, “We can’t possibly have him shoot in a turtleneck sweater, can we?”

“That’s also an option,” Ruan Chi agreed.
Editor-in-chief: ?

The stylist came to smooth things over in the nick of time, holding the suit Zong Mo had taken off earlier. “Would a suit without a shirt be alright, CEO Chi?”
Ruan Chi: “We can try.”

Zong Mo put on the suit pants, fastened his belt, and then draped the jacket over his shoulders. Ruan Chi said his chest couldn’t be shown, so he buttoned it up. The photographer standing nearby had a look of utter reluctance in his eyes.
It almost looked like he had tears in the corners of his eyes.

They took a few shots with the suit buttoned up tightly. The lowest point of the neckline was only seven or eight centimeters below his collarbone. Only when the photographer asked him to bend over did the V-shaped neckline open into an O. Like a female star afraid of a wardrobe malfunction, he clutched his collar and looked nervously at Ruan Chi.

The photographer was on the verge of tears. “It’s fine. The light is coming from above, you can’t see anything. Everything below the collarbone is in shadow.”
The photographer even called Ruan Chi over to check the photos. Zong Mo could only see Ruan Chi squinting slightly at the screen, then nodding.
Signaling to continue shooting.

When they were almost done, the stylist suddenly had a flash of inspiration and suggested, “Um, CEO Chi, would it be okay to unbutton it for a few shots? It won’t show any… nipples. At most… just some cleavage.”
Just some cleavage.

They spoke as if Zong Mo wasn’t there, truly treating him like a piece of meat on a cutting board.
Ruan Chi said, “Let’s try it.”
It wasn’t an agreement, nor was it a refusal. It meant they could shoot, but he had to approve the final product.

Zong Mo felt like years were passing as he shot the second set.
The editor-in-chief, along with several staff members and An Lan, were negotiating with Ruan Chi, hoping he would be merciful. Ruan Chi was uncharacteristically easy to talk to. He didn’t demand another buyout and even praised them, saying, “The shots are good.”

This time he was clothed, so Zong Mo didn’t plan to go over and check. But Ruan Chi called out to him, “Aren’t you going to come take a look?”
Zong Mo went over.
And then he saw himself on the screen…

The stylist was very professional. Because the outfit had changed, he had also slightly altered his hairstyle. It was still swept back, but now had a messy, wet look, giving off a lazy and casual vibe.
He knew in his heart that the suit had been unbuttoned before the photo was taken. But these few shots looked like candid snaps—as if he had just gotten out of bed, thrown on some clothes, and was captured by a hidden camera.
Another overwhelming feeling of “afterglow.”
What on earth was going on!?

In the end, it was all due to lack of sleep and overindulgence in sex.
The culprit was his sponsor.

By this point in the shoot, he was past the point of being tired and was no longer sleepy, but he was filled with resentment. His resentful gaze swept towards the camera’s direction—towards his sponsor—but it came across as if he had just been thoroughly ravished and woke up to find his lover had turned cold and disowned him.
Desperately trying to keep the heartless man who had just used him from leaving, without even having time to properly dress himself.

Zong Mo: …

How should he put it? With his face and that expression, no wonder he was the main shou.
No, this wouldn’t do.

The photographer was quite pleased with his masterpiece, laughing so hard he was practically swaying. He looked at Zong Mo with a gay, all-knowing gaze. “When this photo gets published, you’ll definitely gain a batch of ‘husband fans.’”
Ruan Chi’s expression turned sour.

An Lan quickly kicked the photographer and said, “To hell with husband fans. Our Zong Mo doesn’t need any fans.”
Photographer: ?

That’s right, he didn’t need fans. Having a sponsor was enough. Even without fans, he was still busy from morning to night. An Lan felt that Ruan Chi should understand her subtext. At least he hadn’t truly ruined this job.

Being told by his manager that he didn’t need fans, Zong Mo felt very conflicted.
He had never been a celebrity, but he saw online every day that celebrities relied on fans to make a living. Getting on the trending list relied on fans. Debunking rumors relied on fans.
If no fans were buying it, film and TV dramas wouldn’t cast him, and variety shows wouldn’t invite him.
…The meals fed by a sponsor didn’t count!

He opened Weibo and found that he had control of his account, which had two million followers. But looking further down, the retweets were in the single digits, comments in the triple digits. Likes barely scraped four digits.
Could it be that the fans were all bought by his sponsor?
He felt this was a strong possibility. Moreover, his Weibo wasn’t being managed. He posted about once a month, and it was all the same stuff: joining a new production, wrapping up a shoot, a cast dinner, retweeting and thanking fellow cast members.
Even though the Weibo account was in his own hands, it was abnormally official.
Even he knew that you needed to engage with fans regularly to maintain a fanbase. The original Zong Mo had been in the industry for two years and was still slacking off!
Was he waiting for the film emperor to come and carry him to stardom?
Absolutely not!
The script absolutely could not follow the original path. He couldn’t be topped by the film emperor. It was more likely that he would top the film emperor.

Zong Mo decided to start managing his Weibo properly. First, he could post a selfie.
In some respects, he was pretty much a “steel-straight man.” He wandered around the room and finally stood against a white wall, taking a picture of himself at a horizontal angle.
It looked like a low-resolution ID photo with bad lighting.
But he felt his face looked good even in an ID photo, so he confidently uploaded the original picture directly to Weibo.
Caption: Another day of hard work!
Hmm, looks pretty good. Down-to-earth and dedicated.

Soon, there were dozens of comments. Zong Mo experienced this feeling for the first time and, flattered, clicked to take a look.
【OMG, which production are you ruining now?? Can’t you just be a pretty vase, darling?】
No one had liked it, yet this comment was at the top because the person’s name had an “iron fan” badge next to it.
Zong Mo: ? Iron fan?
As he was looking, this iron fan replied to their own comment, adding in a nested comment:
【Darling, are you not even willing to be a vase anymore?】
Zong Mo: …

He hadn’t been looking for long when his phone rang. It was CEO Ruan from the room next door.
“You posted on Weibo?”
Zong Mo didn’t know if Ruan Chi would allow him to engage with fans, so he said tentatively, “I wanted to… engage a little.”

“It’s too ugly. Delete it,” Ruan Chi said. “Come over.”
Zong Mo: …

He prepared himself mentally and dawdled for a while before going over.
He was bundled up tightly, but Ruan Chi was bundled up even more tightly, wearing a knitted cardigan over his long-sleeved pajamas.
So abstinent, so domestic.
Only Zong Mo knew he was absolutely not what he appeared to be.

Ruan Chi beckoned with his finger. “Come here.”
Zong Mo went over with his tail between his legs and stood by the bed.
“Give me your phone. Sit down.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, while Ruan Chi took his phone and got off the bed.
Zong Mo breathed a sigh of relief. As long as they weren’t sitting on the bed together, it was fine.
Ruan Chi first reached out to tidy his hair, then picked up the phone, looking like he was about to help him take a picture.
If Ruan Chi hadn’t used his fingers to lift his chin, forcing him to raise his head, he really would have thought it was a proper photoshoot.
Zong Mo: ?

Ruan Chi stood in front of him. He felt that this position, this angle, was very convenient for Ruan Chi to stuff something into his mouth. The phone would be perfect for recording it, for recording that kind of short video.
Stop!

Zong Mo came back to his senses. Ruan Chi was just holding his chin, turning it left and right, seemingly dissatisfied no matter what.
Zong Mo’s neck was sore by the time Ruan Chi finally, mercifully, took two pictures and let go of his chin.
“Tsk, not bad.”

Zong Mo: ?
Ruan Chi tossed the phone back to him and said, “Post it.”
Zong Mo looked at his phone and immediately felt unwell.

Because his face was lifted, his eyes were squinted slightly against the ceiling light. And even though it was his neck that was sore, for some reason his ears were red.
None of that was important.
What was important was that there was a long, slender, fair finger on his chin. Ruan Chi hadn’t just captured his own hand, but also his wrist and the cuff of his pajamas.
There was a signature small mole on his wrist bone, and the pajamas seemed to scream to the world that they were taking the picture in a bedroom.
Well, even without looking at the clothes, the background was clearly a bed, and it was a bit messy.

Zong Mo: …
If he posted this kind of photo, he could kiss his acting career goodbye.

Zong Mo swallowed and asked, “Post… post on Weibo?”
Ruan Chi’s peach blossom eyes held a scornful smile. He scoffed before saying, “Send it to me.”
Zong Mo: …

Fine.
He sent the photo to Ruan Chi on WeChat and noticed that their chat history was very empty. The few messages were all about the meals Ruan Chi had fed him… no, the jobs Ruan Chi had fed him.
It seemed Ruan Chi and the original Zong Mo mostly communicated by phone. Plus, living next door made it convenient to talk face-to-face.

He put away his phone and waited for the next instruction.
For example, services of that kind.

After a period of silence, Ruan Chi spoke: “You’re not going back yet?”
Zong Mo: ?

The whole speech he had prepared about how doing it two or three times a day was bad for one’s health and would eventually lead to death by exhaustion suddenly had nowhere to land.
“You can sleep here if you want,” Ruan Chi said, walking towards the desk where his computer was today. “But I have to work. I might pull an all-nighter, and I won’t turn off the lights.”

Zong Mo: …
Yes, once again he had judged a CEO’s character by his own dirty mind.
Zong Mo sprang up, said, “You be busy then,” and quickly fled back to his room.

The third night in the world of the book suddenly became exceptionally long. He was surprisingly not used to it. He tossed and turned in bed for a while before turning on the light and sitting up.
He scrolled through his WeChat Moments.

He had many people from the industry among his WeChat contacts, more directors and producers than actors. He figured he had his sponsor to thank for being able to add these people.
His Moments feed was full of night owls. Several posts were just published. He had just scrolled down a few when he saw a post from “CEO Ruan.”
[Stealing a moment of leisure amidst the busy work.]
The accompanying picture: A beautiful chin being hooked by his finger.
The facial features above the chin were all cropped out, so you couldn’t tell who it was.
Others might not be able to tell, but could the person involved not know?

Zong Mo was silent.
This post was published after midnight, a peak time for night owls. Zong Mo didn’t see any likes or comments below it. He figured either they had no mutual friends, or this post was only visible to him.
It was definitely the second case.

Thinking this, he put down his phone, feeling unsettled.

An Lan, who was currently scrolling through her Moments: …

Ruan Chi was indeed busy. He only opened his phone again a few hours later.
He saw a reply: [CEO Ruan is in high spirits.]
He casually replied with one word: [Busy.]

As for what he was busy with now, that was up for interpretation.