Chapter 5: Arrogant Big Star

“He can’t possibly act.”

Ji Xingci stated it with absolute certainty. The director shook his head.

“His acting is excellent!”

Ji Xingci repeated the same line.

“Impossible!”

He kept insisting on it, and the director began to grow irritated. After all, he had a reputation for his casting choices.

He wasn’t the sort of director who would compromise a film’s quality just to chase an idol’s fanbase or appease investors.

It was precisely this “stubbornness” that had earned him countless awards and filled him with pride over his eye for talent.

“There’s plenty you could learn from his skills. Do a scene together, and you’ll see for yourself!”

Ji Xingci gritted his teeth. “Me? Learn from him?”

His manager hurried over and tugged at his arm, signaling him not to lose his temper.

“Director Li Ming’s movies have a high shot at awards, but only if you play by his rules.”

“You’ve been waiting for a chance like this forever, haven’t you?”

Ji Xingci swallowed his retort, though he wasn’t happy about it.

His commercial value and fame were in a league of their own in the industry—no one could deny his position as the top star.

But what Ji Xingci truly craved was an award with real weight behind it.

Proof that he was more than just a pretty face—that he was a genuine actor with substance.

Especially after bombing a few times before, it only made him more determined. He had to win one.

That was his arrogant nature.

“Fine.” He’d give it a shot. Ji Xingci finally relented. He refused to believe it.

How could Lin Wu possibly know how to act!

The director was just as eager. He instructed them on the scene, gave the pair a moment to prepare, then took his seat behind the camera.

“Action.”

There was no set yet—just a vast, empty platform.

Lin Wu took the initiative, deliberately grasping Ji Xingci’s hand.

The corner of Ji Xingci’s mouth twitched visibly, but for the sake of the performance, he seemed willing to commit. He quickly gripped back.

That was rare.

Lin Wu let out a faint, almost inaudible chuckle and led him forward, pretending to open a door. Then he yanked up his shirt and tossed it aside.

In this scene, the characters had only just met. Xing He had been staring at Jiang Fan in the bar. Jiang Fan, whose life was a chaotic mess, assumed he was looking for a one-night stand. After a casual “Let’s go,” he’d brought the guy home.

Xing He, misunderstanding that he needed help, had followed along in a daze.

With the shirt off, Ji Xingci’s body went rigid.

Then Lin Wu turned back to face him.

Ji Xingci’s heart skipped a beat.

It was the same face, yet Lin Wu suddenly seemed like an entirely different person—faintly unfamiliar.

A dangerous glint colored the young man’s eyes, like a flower on the verge of rotting and wilting away.

Before Ji Xingci could process it, Lin Wu leaned in close and boldly cupped his face.

Ji Xingci blanked out for an instinctive split second, then frowned and seized his hand.

“What are you doing?”

Lin Wu’s gaze flicked to his lips as he tilted his head indifferently.

“No kiss?”

“Straight to sex?”

His voice dropped low, and his hand moved to tug at the belt.

A jolt like electricity shot across Ji Xingci’s scalp. He clamped down on the hand with pure instinct.

Only then did he remember his line.

“Sex? Sex what…”

He could actually act—even lead him along like this.

As disbelief flooded Ji Xingci, Lin Wu drew even closer. His downcast lashes were inches away, his lips about to meet Ji Xingci’s.

Ji Xingci’s pupils contracted. He shoved him back hard.

“What are you doing?”

Lin Wu’s expression turned more puzzled, laced with impatience. “You.”

“…”

“No, you’ve got it wrong. I’m straight!”

“Then why’d you come home with me?”

“I thought you needed help with something.”

“…” Lin Wu’s portrayal of Jiang Fan didn’t voice it, but his eyes screamed it.

Crazy.

Who the hell goes home with a total stranger just to lend a hand? Way too nice.

Xing He seemed to realize his mistake and clamped his mouth shut.

A moment later, he glanced at him, as if hoping for more conversation. But Jiang Fan had lost interest and turned toward the living room.

“Then get out.”

Sunlight spilled across his skin, illuminating his shoulders, the blades of his back, and his wrists.

Even his casual rummage through the fridge for the last remaining beer carried an inexplicable allure.

Jiang Fan paid no mind to Xing He’s stare. He wandered the cluttered living room, hunting for an old DVD.

“Sigh, I think I’ve got some around here.”

“But they’re guy-girl stuff.”

“We’ll make do…”

After sitting and flipping through for a bit, he looked up and realized the tall young man was standing behind him, face flushed crimson.

He tilted his head up in confusion for a moment, then curved his lips into a smirk.

“Want to give it a try?”

He took a swig of the ice-cold beer, rose to his feet, and leaned in for a kiss.

Xing He stared at him, his entire face slowly turning red from the neck up.

But just as Jiang Fan’s lips were about to touch his, Xing He shoved him away again.

Only after the push did Ji Xingci snap back to reality. He’d been operating on pure instinct.

He hadn’t acted it right.

Annoyance flickered through him.

But the director suddenly leaped to his feet with an excited shout. “Perfect!”

“…”

“Yeah, that’s exactly how it should be!”

The director spun in circles of excitement, even revising his original vision on the spot. He quickly dragged the two over to review the footage, urging them to keep up that standard.

Truth be told, among all the actors he’d cast, Director Li had been most worried about Ji Xingci’s performance.

His audition had been nowhere near this impressive.

But there was no helping it—the guy brought too much star power to the table. He’d agreed to make him the lead anyway.

Look at this, though!

That scene had been flawless from both of them.

Ji Xingci, in particular, had finally nailed the complex emotions of an elite man shackled by societal norms—a deep-closeted figure, repressed and resistant yet irresistibly drawn in.

The more the director raved…

The darker Ji Xingci’s expression grew.

By the end, his face was ashen, but his neck was flushed red.

“You tense up the second he gets close. When he pulls away, your eyes follow. That push and pull—that’s it!”

“And in this shot, look at the raw desire in his eyes.”

“Bullshit! I…”

Ji Xingci blurted it out, then pinched the bridge of his nose hard.

“…What I mean is, my performance has nothing to do with him!”

He couldn’t take it anymore and pulled Director Li aside.

“Can’t we swap out the guy playing Jiang Fan? I can’t work with him!”

The director’s face hardened instantly. “No.”

Those few shots from earlier had given Director Li a long-forgotten, intense gut feeling.

This movie just might become his new masterpiece!

Director Li enjoyed a stellar reputation in the industry, but his films were typically the sort that critics loved and audiences ignored—award-winners that never quite lit up the box office.

This time, though, things were different. His leading man was Ji Xingci!

Who wouldn’t pay to see him rip off his shirt on the big screen, eyes blazing with madness? His fans alone would pack every theater to the rafters.

To helm a project that swept awards and shattered box office records—a true double win—was the holy grail for any director.

And for this one, both Ji Xingci and Lin Wu were essential.

That was why he’d been wracking his brains over it.

“Alright, I’ll let your guy join the cast,” he said.

“But Jiang Fan is the heart and soul of this drama. The actor for that role isn’t changing!”

Ji Xingci nearly rolled his eyes.

Xu Qing’s part was barely more than a few blurry shots of his back.

He’d only pushed for it to keep the man on set.

What kind of sacrifice was that for the film?

Yet here was the director, acting like he’d already bent over backward, digging in his heels on swapping anyone else out.

“If you really can’t stand acting with him, pull your friend first. Then we can talk.”

He watched Ji Xingci’s face closely as he spoke.

Ji Xingci seethed with frustration. He turned on his heel and stormed out—only to spot Lin Wu waiting just outside in the corridor.

For once, he couldn’t be bothered to pick a fight. He headed straight for his rest room instead.

To his annoyance, Lin Wu trailed after him.

“What the hell are you following me for?” Ji Xingci snapped, instantly on edge.

Lin Wu ducked his head.

“Are you kicking me off?”

Ji Xingci sneered. “Damn right I am. Got a problem with that?”

The words tumbled out, and suddenly, his resolve hardened.

“Fine. Scram. You got what you wanted—Xu Qing’s out too.”

“. . .”

“I said scram. What are you still doing here?”

“It’s not about Xu Qing.”

The young man kept his head down, lips caught between his teeth. “I want to act with you.”

Ji Xingci froze.

“. . . What?”

“I want to act with you.”

The long-haired youth stood there before him, head bowed low enough to reveal the little ponytail at his nape, his fists clenched tight inside his sleeves, and the telltale flush creeping to the tips of his ears.

What did this mean?

A thrill shot up Ji Xingci’s spine like a sly electric current.

Could it be he didn’t like Xu Qing after all?

But him?

Ha, disgusting, Ji Xingci told himself.

Yet he burst out laughing.

Lin Wu liked him?

Ji Xingci’s smile twisted into a smirk.

“But you piss me off just by existing. I’m not acting with you.”

Lin Wu’s head sank even lower. Then, like a wounded boy, he turned and shuffled away.

Ji Xingci made for his rest room too. But once inside, he just stood there—lips quirked up, arms folded, eyes gleaming.

It wasn’t as if people crushing on him was anything new. Admirers were a dime a dozen; he couldn’t even remember most of their faces. They were just an annoyance he brushed off.

This time, though, something dark and exhilarating stirred inside him—restless malice bubbling up.

He stood there a moment, then forgot entirely why he’d come in to rest. He spun around and headed back out.

Outside, sure enough, the director was still fawning over Lin Wu. He made him run a test scene that didn’t involve Ji Xingci at all.

It was the bit early in the story, when Jiang Fan—fresh off meeting Xing He—hadn’t yet kicked his habit of hooking up with anyone who caught his eye.

Xing He found out, flew into a rage, dragged him home, and gave him a thorough thrashing. Jiang Fan stood there stunned for ages before the realization hit. He lunged at Xing He, smothering him in kisses, swearing he’d never touch anyone else.

Xing He had only meant to beat some sense into him. Instead, they tumbled into bed together once more—and that marked the turning point in their relationship.

That was the scene Lin Wu was running now, with some stand-in.

Ji Xingci stepped out in time to catch it, and his mood soured instantly.

He got why Lin Wu nailed the performance. Hell, it was practically his everyday routine.

He remembered what came next in the script and nearly charged forward yelling.

“What the fuck are you doing, you cheating bastard?!”

Then “accidentally” plant a kick in his ribs.

Luckily, he held back—just barely—and settled for a cold sneer.

But Lin Wu cracked his eyes open mid-scene, sneaking a glance his way.

The director was thrilled regardless. He pulled Lin Wu aside to chat more about his grasp of the character.

Ji Xingci’s good mood evaporated. He left without a word.

In the car, slumped against the window, he told his manager, “Find a way to get the director to recast. I’m not working with him.”

The manager hemmed and hawed. “But . . . the contracts are signed. Schedules are locked in . . .”

“There might not be another shot like this down the line.”

“. . .”