Chapter 4: Having Fun? Part 1

For an ordinary couple, words implying this kind of information gap would already spiral from “lying” to “hiding something” to “cheating.” What came next varied by person, but shock, agitation, and disbelief were guaranteed.

Ye Zhinian was startled too, and he understood perfectly well that Lu Chen must be lying to hide something. But his train of thought promptly swerved down a completely different track—

Lu Chen hadn’t gotten injured on set, had he? Or fallen ill? A month—surely it’s not too serious… No, I have to ask Brother Mi!

The mere thought of Lu Chen possibly suffering in pain right now set Ye Zhinian’s heart fluttering with panic. He tried to reassure himself, yet his hand still tightened around the phone in his pocket.

Just then, Liu Chen beside him suddenly slapped his chopsticks onto the table with a sharp crack, seizing everyone’s attention—and yanking Ye Zhinian back to reality in an instant.

He knew exactly why Liu Chen had suddenly exploded.

The Long Night Before Dawn was the latest masterwork of the famous film director Ma Junfeng—a suspense thriller, his specialty—with Top Star Lu Chen, who had won the Golden Bull Award for Best Newcomer under his direction, as the male lead. Investment: 150 million. Two theater chains as co-producers. Joint distribution by the three major online ticketing platforms. Release date tentatively set for next year’s Spring Festival season.

On specs alone, The Long Night Before Dawn had all but reserved itself a spot in next year’s top ten at the box office.

For a movie guaranteed to sell like this, anyone in the top three billed roles could ride its coattails to a genuine credential. Once it hit theaters, you’d have one foot in the film industry proper.

Ye Zhinian understood this perfectly, and so did everyone else. So when word of the film’s pre-production had leaked early last year, the free-for-all had begun on the spot.

The male lead was untouchable—and unattainable—so the bloodletting concentrated entirely on the supporting roles. After a full year of maneuvering, the dust had mostly settled by last year’s end, with only the Third Male Lead still contested.

By January, with the crew nearly ready to start shooting, Fangyuan Culture had finally secured the Third Male Lead and signed a letter of intent with the production. Then, the very next day, the video of Liu Chen cussing out a Set Crew Member exploded online. To hedge their risk, the production voided the agreement—and Chen Junlin smoothly joined the crew at month’s end.

You couldn’t say for certain that Chen Junlin had engineered it—Liu Chen really was arrogant and insufferable enough on his own merits, or the industry wouldn’t have piled on him so eagerly afterward. But Chen Junlin was also, unambiguously, the single biggest beneficiary of the whole affair, and only a dog would believe he hadn’t fanned the flames.

His mind cleared in a lightning flash. Before Liu Chen’s foul mouth could spit out a single word that might offend anyone or smear himself, Ye Zhinian rose, picked up his chopsticks, plucked a fried meatball from the farthest dish, and dropped it into Liu Chen’s bowl.

“If you want it, just say so. What’s with the tantrum? You’re not the youngest at this table anymore. Apart from me, no one here spoils you.”

“You—!”

“‘You’ what? If you don’t want it, give it back.” Ye Zhinian moved in with his chopsticks; Liu Chen snatched his bowl out of range with remarkable speed, glaring at him, cheeks puffed with fury.

[Now I want fried meatballs (drooling)]

[BAHAHAHA! Brother Ye, remember: kids have short arms and thin skin doge]

[Why does this give off major beast-tamer-and-predator-cub vibes?]

[Brother Ye, effortlessly got him wrapped around his finger.jpg]

[And here I thought Liu Chen was mad that Chen Junlin got the movie role he didn’t. Turns out it was over a meatball doge]

[This Ye Zhinian is not to be underestimated]

[I remember PR pieces before New Year saying Liu Chen would be in The Long Night Before Dawn]

[Good thing Brother Ye’s here, or the trashy tabloids would be writing nonsense about A-Chen again]

[Not taking even one sip of this ship would be an insult to my CP-brain!]

That move of Ye Zhinian’s didn’t just cow Liu Chen—Chen Junlin and the others were momentarily stunned too. Only Ren Li chuckled and chimed in. “A-Chen, if you want something, don’t be shy. Asking for food is nothing to be ashamed of!”

Liu Chen looked down his nose at everyone—except the elderly, against whom he was helpless. Any explanation was past its window now, so he could only pinch his nose, nod obediently, and lower his head to eat his fried meatball in sulky silence.

Watching this, Chen Junlin’s eyes spun, and he murmured enviously, “So nice… I want a big brother taking care of me too… I really don’t want to wrap and leave the crew…”

Li Nanshuang glanced at him and picked up the thread with a smile. “Sounds like you had quite a happy time on that crew?”

“Mm!” Chen Junlin nodded hard. “Director Ma, Director Zhou, Brother Chang, Brother He—they all took great care of me. And especially Brother Chen—he’s genuinely such a good person, nothing like the rumors outside! He only looks cold. He’s actually so, so wonderful—gentle, courteous, patient…”

[Are you talking about THAT Lu Chen? The one who, after debuting overseas, got nicknamed “The Off-Duty Demon King” by Japanese fangirls because he never smiles?]

[When I was digging through Lu Chen’s old material I always found it strange—how does someone with that level of zero-promotion energy even debut in the overseas market?]

[Because of THE FACE! In that group of theirs, Lu Chen’s handsomeness was on another level entirely]

[Fan here, let me weigh in. I’ve watched all of Lu Chen’s content and chased his offline events. There’s a reason the man’s nicknamed B-King Swagger King]

[Silly child, he’s gentle and patient with you because he likes you doge]

[Never thought I’d get Junchen sugar HERE—down the hatch it goes!]

[It’s just a junior admiring a senior, nothing more. Bullet Comments, don’t over-read it]

Chen Junlin praised Lu Chen for a good long stretch without drawing breath, only trailing off sheepishly when he noticed everyone staring. “Am I… talking too much?”

Ren Li, ever the one to smooth things over, said, “No, no—we just never imagined the real Lu Chen was like this. He hasn’t done a single variety show since returning home. Forget the fans—even industry insiders don’t know him well.”

Ren Li was the pillar of Starfruit Satellite TV, holding its prime-time flagship broadcast variety show plus two of Starfruit Video’s ace web shows—an exceptionally professional and formidable host of both variety programs and galas.

But since Lu Chen shunned variety shows and rarely attended local-station galas, the two had never met.

“Is it really so hard for Teacher Ren to meet Lu Chen? Siying’s worked with him, hasn’t she? Have her make an introduction, bridge the connection—who knows, Lu Chen’s variety debut might just land in Starfruit’s lap.” With a joking lilt, Li Nanshuang dug a pit for Lin Siying.

Hearing this, Ren Li laughed and waved his hands at once. “Now, now, that’s going too far—”

“Sure!” Lin Siying cut in, beaming. “Teacher Ren, leave it to me! I guarantee I’ll land you Lu Chen’s variety show debut!”

With that, she winked slyly—like a friend sharing a knowing look after talking big, yet somehow also dropping a hint.

Ren Li froze, about to laugh it all off, when an unhurried voice spoke up.

“Such an eager yes. You and Lu Chen must be very close, then.”

The speaker was Zheng Yunqi—who, since the show began, had rarely opened her mouth, drifting along the edges of the group. This fifty-something celebrity anchor of CCTV had spent years hosting finance and interview programs, with a roster of political and business luminaries interviewed too long to count, renowned for her incisive tongue and blunt candor.

Thirty-plus years in the profession had stockpiled her connections of frankly terrifying scale. If Ren Li was the entertainment industry’s big shot and the show’s Main MC, then Zheng Yunqi was journalism’s hidden titan—the one person on this show you could not afford to offend.

And the only guest left unrevealed since the show began was her friend from another generation.

Lin Siying panicked. She had never imagined Zheng Yunqi would jump out at a moment like this.

Zheng Yunqi had kept a low profile since the show started, never joining the guests’ open feuds and behind-the-scenes scheming—Lin Siying had even forgotten, at one point, that someone like her existed.

And of all moments, Zheng Yunqi chose this one to speak—and with one sentence, sealed off every exit.

If she said they weren’t close, she’d be confirming she had just been talking big. But the last guest really was Lu Chen, so her confident promises had all but laid her cards on the table: she had inside information.

If she said they were close, Lu Chen’s arrival would indeed prove the connection—but Lu Chen was Zheng Yunqi’s friend. One casual remark from Zheng Yunqi later, and the audience would laugh her to death.

And either way, the answer funneled toward one outcome—breaking her own CP! Hand-delivering Lu Chen a gift basket of purified solo fans with her own two hands!

Lin Siying was dripping cold sweat, yet her face had to project perfect ease. The finest acting of her life was being delivered in this very moment.

“Well… big talk is tax-free, isn’t it!” Skipping straight past the question of how close they actually were, Lin Siying pivoted the topic to whether the plan would work at all—then stuck out her tongue for good measure, the very picture of a child caught running her mouth.

Ren Li slapped his knee, roaring with laughter. “Someone ought to lock you up—all day long with that motor mouth!”

Zheng Yunqi chuckled along, her gaze sweeping past Lin Siying, arcing halfway around the table before landing on Ye Zhinian.

Ever since successfully shutting Liu Chen’s mouth, Ye Zhinian’s mind had flown elsewhere. At the sound of Lu Chen’s name he had only given his habitual glance, paying no attention to what they were discussing—all he wanted was for the director to hurry up and announce the tasks so he could find a moment to slip away from the others and make a call.

So he had no idea Zheng Yunqi was looking at him—and missed the kindness and warmth hidden in her eyes.

While the others teased Lin Siying and Ye Zhinian glanced around restlessly, the Chief Director—beer belly leading the way—finally planted himself before the main hall’s door, right under Ye Zhinian’s eager anticipation.

“Everyone, enjoying your meal?”

The entire table went dead silent. Ren Li wore an expression of disdain that plainly read “that bit is so stale not even a fish would bite,” and said, disgust dripping, “Spit it out already. No one here is going to flatter you.”

The Chief Director paused a beat, then carried on regardless. “If you want to eat this well tonight too, you’ll have to put in work this afternoon. And one more guest hasn’t arrived—you wouldn’t want to greet a friend worn out from travel with thin, watery soup, would you?”

“We would.” Li Nanshuang declared, utterly in the wrong yet bursting with confidence. “You said it yourself—worn out from travel. A heavy meal in that state is a burden; better to eat light and rest early.”

“Exactly! Why should we slave over a feast for someone who showed up late?!” The fried meatballs finished, Liu Chen’s foul mouth was back to drawing fire.

Ye Zhinian sighed internally, but smoothly picked up the thread aloud. “The lateness may be excusable, but no punishment at all seems a bit too lenient, doesn’t it? I say we make the late guest bring some food. We enjoy a proper rest this afternoon, and cook ourselves once he arrives. What does everyone think?”

“Sounds great to me.”

“Agreed.”

Li Nanshuang and Liu Chen were first to weigh in. The others exchanged glances—not a single word from anyone.

Just as the atmosphere was sliding toward the abyss of awkwardness, Zheng Yunqi spoke. “Skip the cooking—too much hassle. I’ll have him buy ready-made food. Braised dishes, barbecue, that sort of thing. And bring some drinks.”