After Spectating Gossip, the Entertainment Industry Thinks I’m a Big Shot – CH89

Chapter 89

Gu Xingshi returned to his hotel.

Though he’d felt exhausted on the way back, now that he was lying in bed, he found himself unable to sleep. His mind kept replaying that single, intense moment of the accident.

It had all happened so fast, so suddenly. He hadn’t even had time to react. Later, he’d been too concerned about Wen Yue’s injuries to think much about it. But now, alone in the quiet of the hotel room late at night, he couldn’t help but dwell on it.

Everything from that instant seemed to replay in slow motion in his mind. Wen Yue shouting, “Look out!” as he’d turned the steering wheel without hesitation, putting himself directly in harm’s way.

Most people’s instinct is to protect themselves. But Wen Yue had acted against that instinct and shielded him instead.

Growing up, Gu Xingshi had always been popular. He’d received love letters as early as elementary school. In high school, as his classmates started sneaking into relationships, he’d felt a twinge of interest too. But then his parents had both passed away, and his life had changed dramatically. He’d been consumed by part-time work and studies, leaving little room for other thoughts.

Now that LeShi was on a stable path, he finally had some breathing room to consider other things. After learning about Wen Yue’s feelings, he found himself stirred as well.

Wen Yue’s looks, build, and personality all perfectly matched his preferences. He did feel something for him. Yet, he hesitated. Compared to an abstract ideal of romance, Gu Xingshi valued practicality.

His company and Wen’s firm worked very closely together. What if he and Wen Yue did end up together—but then broke up? Would it affect their business partnerships or impact the careers of his artists? After all, Gu Xingshi was no longer just looking out for himself; hundreds of people at LeShi depended on him for their livelihoods.

Gu Xingshi was usually quick to act on his thoughts, yet on this matter, he’d found himself hesitant, unsure—unlike his usual self at all. But the accident had smashed through his inner walls.

Without him even knowing, Wen Yue had already taken 99 steps toward him. Now, he felt it was time to summon the courage to take that last step.

As for whatever the future might hold, he’d deal with it then.

Having made up his mind, he felt an unexpected calm settle over him. He fell into a deep, restful sleep and awoke the next day feeling renewed.

He took extra care preparing himself, choosing his outfit with purpose before heading to the hospital.

When he arrived with breakfast, the doctor was just finishing up Wen Yue’s check-up.

Thanks to his quick reflexes, Wen Yue’s injuries weren’t severe. After a night’s rest, the symptoms of his mild concussion had nearly disappeared. The only notable injury was a cut on his face from shattered glass, which had bled heavily at the time, looking serious but actually being quite shallow.

Once the doctor finished, one of Wen Yue’s subordinates arrived to report that the drunk driver responsible had been located, and Wen Yue’s lawyers would ensure he faced consequences.

While dealing with business, Wen Yue’s expression was cold and severe, his aura intimidating. But the moment he saw Gu Xingshi, his face softened instantly. “You’re here?”

Gu Xingshi suddenly noticed that Wen Yue seemed to act differently around him compared to others.

He just hadn’t paid much attention before.

But after deciding to pursue a relationship with Wen Yue, noticing this difference in his treatment made Gu Xingshi’s heart feel a little sweeter.

Wen Yue quickly noticed that Gu Xingshi’s smile was softer today than usual, and his outfit was different too. Gu was typically a practical dresser, favoring simple and comfortable clothes unless it was a formal event. But today, it was clear he’d put extra thought into his look.

Feigning casualness, Wen Yue asked, “Do you have other plans after this?”

Gu Xingshi replied without much thought, “I’ll probably stop by the set and then handle a few minor errands.”

Wen Yue frowned slightly. There was no need to dress up just for errands and a visit to the set. Then he heard Gu add, “Oh, and Yan Zhiheng called this morning. He said he’d join me on set to take a look around.”

Gu looked a bit excited as he said this. Although Yan had left the entertainment industry years ago, his experience as one of the top stars of his time was invaluable. Maybe he could even be persuaded to make a cameo, which would add some publicity to the movie.

And besides, Gu Xingshi wanted to ask him about Wen Yue’s childhood. He’d missed the chance yesterday, thanks to Wen’s interruption.

However, seeing Gu’s enthusiasm sparked a slight pang of jealousy in Wen Yue. Did meeting Yan Zhiheng really call for this level of preparation?

His normally neat hair fell slightly out of place as he frowned, softening his sharp features and highlighting his strikingly handsome face. Gu Xingshi wasn’t used to seeing Wen Yue look like this and felt his heart beat faster.

He cleared his throat. “How about you eat some breakfast first.”

After they finished eating, Gu Xingshi prepared to leave, but Wen Yue surprised him by saying, “I’ll go with you.”

Gu Xingshi looked surprised. “What about your injuries…?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Wen Yue said dismissively. “I invested in this movie, too. Makes sense for me to check in.”

So the two of them left together, sitting side by side in the back of Wen Yue’s car as the driver took them to the set.

The set was a fair distance from the hospital. At first, Gu Xingshi kept up a lively conversation with Wen Yue, but having stayed up too late the previous night, he soon began to feel drowsy, his head drooping as he nodded off.

Seeing this, Wen Yue reached out, gently guiding Gu’s head to rest on his shoulder. But Gu Xingshi didn’t stay put for long; soon enough, he began to slide down toward Wen Yue’s lap.

Wen Yue had intended to hold him up, but the car suddenly jolted, and Gu’s head dropped directly onto his lap. Even then, Gu didn’t wake. He simply mumbled a few words, shifted to a comfortable position, and drifted back to sleep.

Gu’s warm breaths seeped through Wen Yue’s trousers, and his tousled hair brushed dangerously close to Wen Yue’s abdomen. Wen Yue felt himself tense up, almost paralyzed.

But watching Gu sleep so soundly, he didn’t have the heart to wake him. And so, they remained in that position until they arrived at the set.

Gu had clearly slept well, while Wen Yue’s leg had gone completely numb.

As they stepped out of the car, they saw Yan Zhiheng, who had already arrived and was waiting nearby. As usual, Yan looked flawless.

He greeted Gu Xingshi warmly, then glanced at Wen Yue behind him. “Didn’t know the accident hurt your legs, too?”

Wen Yue: “…”

Gu Xingshi rubbed his nose in mild embarrassment. He almost never fell asleep around other people, but something about today had made it easy to drift off on Wen Yue’s lap.

Fortunately, Yan only tossed out a passing remark to tease Wen Yue and didn’t press further.

They entered the set together with Gu Xingshi.

The film Feng Tingyun was working on was an adaptation of a novel by an avant-garde writer and was being shot entirely on location across seven or eight countries and regions.

Last night’s accident hadn’t been kept from Feng Tingyun and Qin Wen. So as soon as the trio arrived, the two came over to check on them and ask if they were all right.

Learning that Gu Xingshi was unharmed and that Wen Yue had been injured while saving him, Qin Wen, who usually had no patience for Wen Yue, surprisingly showed him some rare kindness and refrained from being the “third wheel.”

At this point, they finally noticed Yan Zhiheng standing behind Gu Xingshi.

“Y-Yan Zhiheng?!”

Feng Tingyun’s voice pitched up in astonishment.

Even Qin Wen’s eyes widened with unconcealed excitement.

Gu Xingshi had long known how captivating Yan Zhiheng was. During his peak, he’d had fans across the entire country, from children as young as eight to grandparents well into their eighties, all mesmerized by him.

In fact, the dramas he starred in years ago were still being re-aired annually on various networks.

Yan Zhiheng, however, remained composed and exchanged warm greetings with everyone.

Though Feng Tingyun and the others were initially starstruck, they soon calmed down and resumed filming.

Gu Xingshi and his group didn’t interfere with the shoot, instead watching quietly from the sidelines. He took the opportunity to chat with Yan Zhiheng, and after a while, seeing that Yan wasn’t put off by their conversation, he cautiously suggested, asking if Yan might consider doing a brief cameo role.

He was well aware, thanks to the system, that Yan had retired to preserve his image on screen and had been living a private life ever since, refraining from any acting. Gu Xingshi worried that making such a request out of the blue might lead to rejection.

Unexpectedly, Yan took a look at the script, spoke briefly with Feng Tingyun, and then readily agreed.

What Gu Xingshi had imagined would be a quick, few-minute role turned into something much more involved, as Yan requested a stylist and makeup artist, spending over two hours perfecting his appearance. During filming, he was intensely focused, almost radiating a magnetic aura that commanded attention. Gu found it impossible to look away.

Not only had Yan’s appearance and physique remained the same, but his acting skills were also intact, possibly even more refined.

Noticing Gu Xingshi’s admiration, Wen Yue, who stood beside him, said, “My uncle has been keeping up a strict routine all these years—no greasy foods, no sweets, daily voice and acting practice.”

Gu Xingshi was taken aback.

When Wen Yue was younger, he’d been close to Yan Zhiheng, and though they didn’t see each other as frequently in recent years, their bond had endured.

“He didn’t leave the industry because he was tired of it. He just pushed himself too far. His drive for perfection made him back himself into a corner,” Wen Yue added.

Gu Xingshi finally understood.

Yan had shot to fame from his very debut. For a decade, he maintained an immaculate image, mastering both acting and singing, treating fans and colleagues with impeccable courtesy, and managing to avoid any scandal. This level of spotless reputation was almost unheard of in the industry, but Yan Zhiheng had achieved it.

Yet this had also become a prison of his own making.

Yan didn’t dislike acting—he simply didn’t want to shatter the myth he had so carefully crafted.

Gu Xingshi let out a quiet sigh.

Yan’s role was brief and soon completed, but he seemed reluctant to leave the set, as if savoring each moment. Seeing this left Gu Xingshi feeling somewhat bittersweet.

Unable to hold back, Gu Xingshi asked quietly, “Brother Yan, do you still want to act?”

Yan Zhiheng gave a small smile. “No need; I’m fine as things are.”

Though his words were casual, Gu could see a hint of regret deep in his eyes.

Feeling a spark of inspiration, Gu said, “You’re right, brother Yan. The entertainment industry back home is pretty messy right now. Reliable productions are few and far between, and as for the internet—it’s even worse with all the AI face-swaps, AI voices…”

Yan Zhiheng, not particularly up-to-date on recent tech trends, asked, “AI face-swaps? What’s that?”

Gu Xingshi immediately pulled out his phone, finding some low-budget dramas where fans had used AI to swap in Yan’s face. “Here, like this!”

Yan’s jaw dropped as he watched. “I never acted in anything like that!”

Gu explained, “You didn’t. They’ve just swapped your face onto this other actor.”

As the video continued, original footage from the show played alongside it, with comments scrolling by.

[Ugh! That acting’s so awful, not even Yan Zhiheng’s face can save it!]

[For a moment, I thought even Yan Zhiheng looked bad. Sorry, my idol!]

[Please, stop defiling my idol!]

Yan was both shocked and furious. “What ‘is’ this?”

Gu explained that these were fan edits of dramas starring young, inexperienced actors with poor acting skills. Fans were so frustrated with their performances that they’d used AI to swap Yan’s face onto the actors.

As one of the ultimate “perfect idols,” Yan’s face was a favorite target for these edits.

Yan looked stunned. “But doesn’t this violate personal rights and image rights?”

He recalled that, in his time, some local companies had tried sneaking celebrity photos onto their ads, hoping to promote their products. But back then, word didn’t spread easily, so as long as they weren’t caught, they’d get away with it. If they were found out, though, they’d be sued without question.

“But isn’t this rampant on the internet now? Hasn’t anyone sued them?”

Gu sighed. “Right now, the legal side of this still isn’t very complete. And since these fans aren’t making any money from it, it’s hard to take legal action. By the time the laws are improved, these AI-edited shows might have been swapped out multiple times already…”

Yan was completely overwhelmed.

Gu Xingshi leaned in, speaking meaningfully. “Rather than letting others ruin your image and acting, wouldn’t it be better for you to take the screen yourself…?”

Yan left the set, dazed by the idea.

Watching him go, Wen Yue asked, “Do you think Uncle will really return to acting?”

Gu shook his head. “I don’t know for sure. Only Yan Zhiheng can decide when he’s ready to move past his doubts.”

Dropping the subject, Wen asked, “When are you heading back?”

Gu replied, “Things are more or less wrapped up here, so I’ll probably head back tomorrow or the day after.”

Wen Yue nodded. “I’m flying back on a private jet tomorrow. Want to come along?”

Having never flown on a private jet, Gu Xingshi’s curiosity got the better of him, and he accepted.

Noticing the slight smile on Gu’s lips, Wen Yue’s gaze softened.

The next morning, Wen Yue came to pick him up.

The journey would take over ten hours, with only a brief stopover in a nearby city. Most of the time, they would have the jet—and each other—to themselves.

Today, Gu Xingshi wore a white down jacket, a simple color that looked striking on him, lending him an air of youthful innocence. But Wen Yue’s attention drifted to his earlobe, where a diamond earring sparkled softly.

Gu Xingshi had never been one for jewelry; his usual style was fresh and minimalistic. But these past two days, he’d been wearing accessories—and all of them featured gemstones…

The diamond earring sparkled brilliantly, but it seemed to pinch his earlobe a bit too tightly, leaving a faint redness, making it look like a ripe, juicy cherry.

Wen Yue’s gaze darkened, and he felt a dryness in his throat.

“Xingshi…” His voice was slightly hoarse as he reached out to take Gu Xingshi’s hand.

This time, Gu didn’t pull away, his cool fingers resting obediently in Wen Yue’s warm grasp.

The fire in Wen Yue’s chest blazed even hotter.

But just then, two cars approached from a distance.

The door of the first car opened, and Yan Zhiheng stepped out gracefully. From the second car, several servants got out, busy unloading luggage.

Yan Zhiheng flashed a smile. “Hope you don’t mind if I catch a ride?”

Wen Yue: “!!!”