Chapter 8: Signing onto the Variety Show
The old six-story residential building, built in the 90s, had no elevator.
A stomp of his foot, and the dim overhead light flickered to life. Halfway up the stairs, the downstairs light went out, plunging the dusty stairwell into darkness. The landing at the corner was piled with residents’ clutter, several unattended potted plants scattered about like shadows.
Outside, it was a summer night, camphor trees rustling, the moonlight thin.
This male fan was probably really poor, far poorer than Min Zhi had imagined. Clearly blessed with such a unique temperament and appearance, yet inexplicably poor.
He seemed to be woven from mysteries. A contradictory aura of fragility and danger coexisted within him, separated by an air of mystery.
Min Zhi followed the graceful silhouette up the stairs.
Back at his apartment, the scarf was still wrapped around Xi Leng’s neck.
Min Zhi recalled that every time they met, the little male fan had something around his neck, previously a raised collar, this time a scarf, always covering his Adam’s apple and the skin beneath.
Xi Leng turned on all the lights in his apartment, but the brightness was still limited. Half of his face was shrouded in shadow. Such a humble dwelling exposed before his idol, yet he showed no restraint or embarrassment, a kind of devil-may-care attitude.
“Rented apartment, a bit messy, have a seat wherever you like.”
Min Zhi thought, there doesn’t seem to be anywhere to sit, though.
It was a small one-bedroom apartment, the living room also serving as Xi Leng’s studio.
Various messy and casual sketches were plastered on the walls. Canvas oil paintings, with nowhere to hang, were placed on the sofa or piled up on the table. The floor, chairs, and corners were littered with discarded artwork. Buckets, paints, palettes, colorful aprons filled the remaining gaps in the small space.
A strong, pungent smell of plants lingered in the air, from a large bottle of turpentine.
Min Zhi stood at the entrance, first looking at the brightly colored oil paintings on the sofa. The high-saturation, low-brightness color combinations, the visually striking contrasting colors, the abstract and bold geometric shapes… reminded him of the Fauvist paintings he had seen in museums abroad. But contrary to the lightness and joy of Fauvism, these works gave off a gloomy and oppressive feeling. Even the brightest red was dark, like blood.
Navigating the clutter, Min Zhi came to the balcony, stopping in front of the unfinished work on the easel.
Seeing this, the memory from three years ago finally resurfaced for Xi Leng, and he quickly walked over.
On the canvas was a pencil sketch, the strokes chaotic, but still recognizable as a half-length portrait, the proportions normal and conventional, unlike the other abstract works in the apartment.
Xi Leng naturally remembered this painting.
He didn’t like painting portraits, not even of Luo Jiayan, whom he had once liked. But he couldn’t resist Luo Jiayan’s coquettish pleas and finally decided to paint a portrait for him as a 22nd birthday gift.
This painting would be given away at the birthday party a month later, ruined by Luo Jiayan’s friends spilling drinks on it. The cheapness of this gift would also be ridiculed by one of Luo Jiayan’s wealthy admirers, and his right hand, in the chaos, would be cut by glass, severing the tendons and permanently losing the ability to hold a pen for extended periods.
He would never paint again after that.
Xi Leng stepped forward to partially block the sketch, asking Min Zhi: “What’s the matter?”
Min Zhi looked away and got to the point: “There’s a reality variety show in the works, called ‘Unlimited Escape Room,’ with both celebrities and ordinary people as guests. You know, I have a lot of scandals, and my manager wants to improve my image. You’re my fan, and I want to bring you on the show. The pay will definitely be better than your part-time job, and I can establish a fan-loving persona, a win-win situation for both of us.”
Xi Leng was stunned.
He remembered this variety show. Whether in his memory or in the novel’s outline, this show was considered the first official meeting between the protagonist gong and shou.
He didn’t know the specific details, but he clearly remembered that in his past life, Min Zhi’s fan-loving persona wasn’t established at all because there was also his rival, a villain who liked Luo Jiayan, among the guests, repeatedly provoking trouble. Luo Jiayan was caught in the middle, trying to mediate, but to no avail.
In the end, both of them walked off the set, the planned ten episodes cut down to six. The team spirit among the five guests was practically non-existent, and the final product of the variety show was less than satisfactory.
In any case, it had nothing to do with the poor male supporting character from the other world.
Lost in thought, he heard Min Zhi ask again: “What do you think?”
Xi Leng had a striking appearance; as long as he was willing to show his face, making money would be easier.
Xi Leng in his past life, afraid of being entangled by Rong Haigao, had never considered this path. The more he earned, the more the greedy Rong Haigao would demand. And once he became a public figure, it would be equivalent to giving Rong Haigao leverage to control and threaten him.
However, even with all his caution and struggles, he still ended up dying tragically on the street.
A huge pie fell from the sky, yet Xi Leng’s reaction was a long silence.
The olive branch personally offered by Min Zhi was undoubtedly a huge temptation, the best opportunity to change his fate.
But all of this had to be built on a lie, that is, pretending to be Min Zhi’s fan.
His eyelashes trembled slightly, and he finally heard his own voice, a positive answer: “Yes, I’ll consider it.”
He maintained his sense of boundaries and propriety perfectly, causing Min Zhi to regard him even more highly. Although a faint sense of irritation lingered in his heart, being on a variety show with such a fan should be quite easy.
“Contact my manager anytime after you’ve made up your mind. He sent you a private message on Weibo. Or you can call him directly, here’s his business card.”
The guest list for “Unlimited Escape Room” hadn’t been fully confirmed yet, the official announcement would have to wait until after the filming of the first episode.
Luo Jiayan, now in the industry, learned about the prospective guest list from a friend. He checked and double-checked in disbelief, but Xi Leng’s name was still there.
At this time, in his small rented apartment, Xi Leng was clearing out a display cabinet specifically to store Min Zhi’s merchandise, in case his idol came for a surprise inspection.
As he was tidying up, there was a knock on the door. It was Luo Jiayan again.
Luo Jiayan, no longer looking as aggrieved as before, asked him with sparkling eyes: “Ah Zhao, are you going to be on ‘Unlimited Escape Room’?”
He was the protagonist of this world, his connection with Min Zhi destined. Xi Leng wasn’t surprised he had learned this news, and simply hummed in agreement.
Luo Jiayan was excited: “Let me tell you, I recently met a stylist, you know? He’s actually Min-shen’s childhood friend! I asked him for a favor and he contacted the director of ‘Unlimited Escape Room,’ and I got a spot!”
“Then we can film together! Escape room puzzles, just thinking about it is exciting!”
This wasn’t surprising either. Min Zhi’s childhood friend, Qiao Yusen, had a significant role in the novel’s outline. Among the named and good-looking male characters, he was one of the few who wasn’t head over heels for the protagonist shou. Min Zhi’s true friend, a dedicated supporting character.
Xi Leng’s thoughts drifted, and he thought of Min Zhi’s rival, Jiang Songnan. This one was the overbearing and unhinged villain gong, and he would also be participating in “Unlimited Escape Room.” Later in the novel, there was a plotline where he drugged the protagonist shou, which inadvertently benefited the protagonist gong. Although that was three years away, it was best to be prepared.
Facing the purely joyful Luo Jiayan, Xi Leng could only offer a veiled warning: “The entertainment industry is complicated, you have to be careful, don’t provoke the wrong people.”
Luo Jiayan was unconcerned, smiling: “I’m not going on the show alone, what’s there to be afraid of? You’ll protect me… right?”
To his surprise, Xi Leng’s reaction was unusually calm, as if he hadn’t heard him.
Luo Jiayan’s lips flattened, overwhelmed by an inexplicable sense of dejection. He lowered his head, wandered around the room, and suddenly noticed the easel by the window. He hurriedly turned back and asked: “Right, let me be your model? I’m free today.”
“No need.” Xi Leng said. “That’s a ruined sketch, I’m going to throw it away.”
“…Oh, okay. What a pity.”
“If there’s nothing else,” Xi Leng gently hinted at his departure, “you should go back? I still need to clean up.”
“…Okay.”
Luo Jiayan kept looking back as he left, but this time, he still didn’t get any words of persuasion from Xi Leng.
Xi Leng opened a can of ice beer, sat down on a small stool, and stared at the sketch he hadn’t seen for three years, lost in thought.
He didn’t plan to repeat the past, and naturally decided to discard this sketch.
But after a few sips of beer, the spicy sensation that rushed up his throat cleared his mind like never before.
He suddenly changed his mind.
His long fingers picked up the paintbrush, trembling slightly from the unfamiliar feeling, losing stability, the lines he drew on the paper crooked and messy.
In his own field, his journey had been bumpy, filled with setbacks.
Rong Haigao had discovered him secretly painting and tore up his treasured works, using violence to “wake him up,” saying that wasting time drawing these useless things was not as good as going out to work and earn money.
After meeting Luo Jiayan in junior high, the latter’s encouragement made him pick up his dream again. But this barely pieced-together, scarred dream would be shattered once more a month later at Luo Jiayan’s birthday party.
And then, he would never pick up a paintbrush again, until his death.
Xi Leng raised his head, his Adam’s apple bobbing quickly a few times, finishing the rest of the beer in one gulp. The coolness spreading from his throat to his lungs was invigorating.
As he drew another stroke, he gradually regained his lost touch, each stroke more confident than the last.
Twilight deepened, the setting sun casting a golden glow on the white paper. He twirled the pencil in his palm, picked up a white eraser, and rubbed a few times on the ear in the portrait.
The masterpiece complete, he casually threw down his tools, stepped back slightly, the warm orange-red sunset reflected in his eyes, taking in the whole picture.
The pencil sketch of the man’s half-length portrait was finished. The general pose and movement remained unchanged, the facial features also in roughly the same positions as the original sketch, but the finished product exuded a completely different aura.
With simple black and white, the exquisite bone structure was vividly displayed on the paper, the dark eyes like a mysterious vortex captivating the viewer, the person appreciating the painting, yet also being scrutinized by it.
The most iconic feature was the delicate earrings on his left ear, the highlights of the metal brought out by the eraser.
Xi Leng silently studied his own work for a long time, a feeling of having lived through a lifetime washing over him.
It must have been the merchandise at home that brainwashed him, he hadn’t even realized it himself, nor had he referenced any photos. On the paper was a lifelike portrait of Min Zhi.
