The Stand-in Side Character Only Wants to Make Money – CH26

Chapter 26 – Universe between the fingers

Chen Bai wasn’t kidding when he said he’d finish quickly. Xu Lang was still waiting in the living room to get the key to open the door. Chen Bai didn’t waste time playing his usual baiting games. With a perfect start and a sniper in hand, he steamrolled through the match, finishing in ten minutes. After ending the game, he said a quick goodbye to his teammates and livestream viewers, took off his headset, and got up from his seat.

Xu Lang, obedient as ever, stayed in the living room as he had been told. When Chen Bai saw him, he stood up, his face, neck, and ears all flushed red, one hand unconsciously fidgeting with his school uniform pants.

He didn’t seem like the rebellious and defiant younger brother his neighbor had described. Instead, he looked shy, maybe even a little nervous.

Seeing it first-hand made Chen Bai realize how much difference there could be between descriptions and reality. He kindly told the shy younger brother to wait for a moment while he started searching for the key.

The spare key was something he used occasionally. Normally, it would be in the entryway cabinet with his own keys, but there was also a chance he had casually stuffed it into his jacket pocket. It could have also randomly appeared on the coffee table or in one of the bedroom drawers.

“…Um.”

Seeing Chen Bai search everywhere, Xu Lang’s hand, which had been resting against his school uniform pants, moved slightly before he finally spoke up when Chen Bai happened to turn around. “I-I can just wait here for my brother to get back.”

Such a thoughtful kid—no wonder he was the good neighbor’s well-behaved little brother.

Chen Bai was touched but replied, “I’m going to be playing games, so I’d probably disturb your homework.”

From the information he had gathered so far, if this younger brother didn’t do his homework soon, he might be getting to the stage where his phone would be confiscated.

“……”

Xu Lang finally remembered that he had homework to do. His grip on his phone tightened and then loosened as he nervously straightened his neck and said, “I can’t concentrate on my homework alone.”

A completely natural, unfiltered lie.

The pink-haired guy paused in his search for the keys and said, “Is that so?”

Xu Lang nodded slightly.

“Alright then,” not sensing that Xu Lang would lie just to stay here, Chen Bai nodded and swiftly stopped searching for the keys. “I’ll send your brother a message, and you can focus on your homework here.”

He pointed towards the kitchen and said, “If you’re thirsty, there’s cool boiled water in the kitchen. The cup with the strawberry pattern is your brother’s; you can wash it and use it.”

“…?”

Xu Lang felt that there was too much information packed into that sentence. Perhaps he was just stunned by the phrase “strawberry pattern.” For a moment, he couldn’t say anything more than a simple “Okay.”

Then he remembered something and added a quick “Thank you.”

The pink-haired guy told him not to mention it, adding an encouraging “You got this,” and then he really went back to his room, moving swiftly and confidently.

Xu Lang sat on the sofa in the living room, feeling a bit light-headed. He didn’t know whether to look at his phone or at the person in front of him.

His brother had said someone would open the door for him.

But he hadn’t expected that this person lived next door, nor had he expected it to be Chen Er Bai.

—No wonder that outfit looked so familiar, and that voice was eerily recognizable.

It felt a bit surreal, but it was undeniably real.

If he had known his brother knew Chen Er Bai, or that it was Chen Er Bai who lived next door, he wouldn’t have waited until today to come over.

He would have brought both himself and his computer over directly.

—The person sitting at the computer in the master bedroom moved, as if they were about to turn around.

The high school student quickly put down his phone, took out a brand new textbook and exam paper from his backpack, and held a pen in hand as if in a symbolic gesture.

Fortunately, the person in the master bedroom only reached out to adjust his headphones and didn’t turn to look at him.

Letting out a breath, Xu Lang glanced at his phone, then at the person in the room. He finally set his phone aside, kept one earbud in, and picked up the pen.

For the sake of his phone, he had to put in some effort.

Tonight, the livestream platform would undergo system maintenance from midnight until five in the morning, so Chen Bai ended his stream just before midnight.

It was rare for him to end a stream this early. His schedule was already firmly fixed, and he didn’t feel tired. Thinking about the good neighbor’s younger brother still in the living room, he picked up a water cup and got up to take a look.

The hardworking high school student was still focused on his homework, the pen tip tapping repeatedly on the exam paper, then writing down an answer before quickly moving on to the next question.

“…”

Chen Bai thought that not dwelling on problems he didn’t understand was a pretty good habit in a way.

But skipping even the first major question seemed a bit dangerous.

Putting personality aside, it seemed that the younger brother really did struggle with his studies.

Setting his water cup down on the table, he asked the diligent high school student, “Your brother won’t be back for a while. Do you want to take a break first?”

He was used to taking breaks during the night, but a normal high school student shouldn’t stay up too late.

The high school student tightened his grip on the pen and said he wanted to stay and work on his homework a little longer.

He might be poor at studies, but he was diligent.

Chen Bai expressed his admiration but didn’t want to disturb him too much, continuing his search for the missing keys.

After finding the keys among some laundry, when he returned to the living room, he saw that in such a short time, the hardworking Xu Lang had already completed one exam paper.

He had completed the exam paper, blindly guessed the multiple-choice questions, and fully answered the major questions.

A method of completing the exam paper that would be hard for an ordinary person to achieve.

Chen Bai set the keys aside and asked, “Do you need help?”

He smiled and said, “Don’t let my appearance fool you; I’m actually pretty good at tutoring.”

He had worked as a tutor before, charging a pretty high fee per session, but since this was the good neighbor’s younger brother, he didn’t mind helping out for free.

The diligent younger brother promptly expressed his desire for assistance and politely thanked him.

To avoid appearing foolish, Xu Lang even found an exam paper he had somewhat seriously attempted and handed over both the pen and some scratch paper.

In reality, it didn’t matter whether he had taken it seriously; the accuracy was no different from randomly guessing.

The pink-haired guy took the pen and exam paper and started by reviewing the fill-in-the-blank questions he had completed.

Being so close, the high school student instinctively straightened his back, sitting up straight as if at attention.

“A small ball slides down a curved track, pushing a small block to move… the calculated result shows that the block’s moving speed is 83 meters per second.”

Chen Bai turned to the high school student beside him and asked, “Do you know about the Fuxing train?”

The high school student didn’t understand but replied that he did.

“It travels at three hundred kilometers per hour,” Chen Bai stated matter-of-factly. “Your little block’s moving speed is almost comparable to the Fuxing train.”

If you were on that little block, a domestic tour would be no problem.

“…”

With that reference point, Xu Lang was shocked to realize just how far off he was.

Chen Bai explained the question from beginning to end.

Watching the hands that usually typed on the keyboard now holding a pen to write down formulas, Xu Lang couldn’t help but feel a little dazed. It seemed so surreal.

His favorite streamer was helping him with his homework, starting with the basic formulas and gradually transforming them.

The key was that he actually understood it, and since it was his favorite streamer talking to him, he listened intently to every word. His thoughts were clearer than ever.

Knowledge seeped into his mind in a strange way.

In the end, the high school student managed to complete a quarter of the paper on his own, relying purely on his calculations without guessing.

The good neighbor finished work and was already on his way back, prompting Chen Bai to pause his tutoring, take a sip of water, and ask the high school student to pack up his backpack.

The high school student packed his bag at an unusually slow pace, carefully putting each pen into his backpack one by one.

Watching him clean up, Chen Bai habitually started a casual conversation, curiously asking, “I heard your brother say you like to play video games. What games do you usually play?”

Xu Lang glanced at the person curled up on the sofa and mentioned the name of the game.

Chen Bai raised an eyebrow and smiled, saying, “What a coincidence, I play it occasionally too.”

Xu Lang knew that the intensity of that game could hardly be called occasional. After hesitating for a moment, he asked, “If there’s a chance in the future, can we play together?”

“Sure.”

The pink-haired guy readily agreed, then glanced at the prominently placed backpack and said, “When you finish your homework.”

A knock came from outside the door.

It was the good neighbor returning. Ending the topic about games, Chen Bai got up to open the door.

Indeed, it was the good neighbor, accompanied by a small cake. The person standing at the door greeted them after the door opened and handed over a cake box, saying, “This is the cake the crew ordered for tonight.”

Receiving a small cake, Chen Bai thanked the kind neighbor.

The kind neighbor’s gaze shifted past Chen Bai to the person in school uniform standing behind him.

Meeting his eyes, the high school student jumped slightly and quickly walked over.

The high school student was taken away, but he didn’t forget to look back at the half-open door behind him as he left.

The pink-haired guy, peeking out from the door, smiled and waved at him.

As the door here opened, the door next door closed.

With the lights on inside, Xu Lang entered the house, glanced around, and asked, “Bro, where’s my cake?”

The man on the side, putting down his jacket, replied coolly, “There isn’t any.”

Xu Lang: “?”

His brother turned to look at him and asked, “What about your homework?”

“I did it.”

Xu Lang added a clarification, saying, “I did part of it.”

This time it wasn’t a lie; he said it with conviction.

It was already late at night, and Xu Sinian didn’t say much, telling him to wash up and go to bed.

Xu Lang didn’t leave; he stood there with his backpack, cautiously but boldly asking, “Can I go over to play… and do homework tomorrow?”

“…”

The next day, the high school student once again reported to the neighboring house with his backpack.

This little holiday was the most fulfilling one yet.

Some high school students came to the old city with a sense of impending doom, not wanting to stay there for even a second longer, but when it was time to leave, they were reluctant to go. Holding onto the doorknob, they would ask when they could come back next time, only willing to leave after getting an answer.

What they were gripping wasn’t their own doorknob, but the doorknob of the neighbor’s door, making it clear who was really reluctant to part.

Although they ultimately didn’t get to play games together because they were busy doing homework, and most of their conversations with Chen Bai revolved around practice problems, he still had the chance to eat the meals cooked by Chen Bai and watch him play video games in person.

The sound of the keyboard was completely different from what he heard in the videos. Chen Bai’s voice was pleasant to listen to, and he would smile at Xu Lang, making him feel completely different from his brother.

In the end, the person who wouldn’t let go of the doorknob was still taken away in a car, and before leaving, he didn’t receive a concrete answer about when he could come back next.

By the time Master Chen, the locksmith, returned home after finishing his work, the kind neighbor told him that dinner didn’t need to be prepared for three people anymore.

He asked, “Did the younger brother leave?”

The kind neighbor confirmed, saying, “He had to go back to school.”

Chen Bai remarked that it was a pity.

The high school student’s holiday truly was short; it ended before he had much time to enjoy it.

The kind neighbor agreed but didn’t elaborate.

With the younger brother gone, the moments in Chen Bai’s daily work routine no longer revolved around tutoring homework but shifted to reading scripts, books, and watching reference videos.

He had already memorized the script but wanted to see how others handled things in this regard. He watched videos and read a good amount of literature, including historical materials, which weren’t dull but rather interesting.

On the day of the audition, his money-making partner accompanied him. With someone to pick him up, he didn’t have to squeeze onto the subway, allowing him to extend his precious morning rest time a little longer.

His agent, tirelessly driving, said, “I’ll have the company assign you a driver sooner or later.”

After saying this, she glanced over and asked, “So, how confident are you?”

Chen Bai couldn’t say he was confident about something uncertain; he could only say that he was indeed prepared.

If he didn’t say he was confident, his agent had even less confidence.

Previously, when this person was working on another project, she had been busy with other matters and hadn’t been able to catch a glimpse of him. Although she later heard the director praise him, she still hadn’t seen it firsthand, so she didn’t know what he was really like.

The audition for this project, titled “Questioning Life,” had a big budget, a renowned director, and top-notch writers. Even before filming started, it was clear that it was a lineup poised for popularity. Companies in the industry were eager to push their actors into this project, resulting in objectively fierce competition.

Especially since the two roles up for grabs were the male fourth and male third. Although the latter was a playboy—a character that wasn’t particularly appealing to the public—the role still had substantial screen time, with many people eyeing both characters.

Landing the male third role in such a major project would be quite a challenge for a newcomer; she had little expectation. Although the production team had sent two scripts, it was clear that the second one was merely sent with a trial-and-error attitude, with the primary focus remaining on the male fourth role.

The only piece of good news was that the company was also one of the investors and had a significant share, so at least there was no need to worry about being eliminated due to non-competitive factors.

However, the company was only a side assurance; ultimately, it depended on whether the person had the ability to be selected.

The person about to audition munched on a red bean-filled steamed bun in the car. After finishing, he glanced at the script, closed his eyes, and made the most of his time to take a quick nap.

There was a slight sense of urgency, but not too much.

The audition was held in a building at a cultural center, and it looked quite grand at first glance.

Those who could attend the audition had already gone through a preliminary screening, so the number of people wasn’t as many as one might imagine. There were only a few scattered individuals seated in the hall, not interacting much.

If Chen Bai had looked at his phone a bit more, he probably could have recognized a few familiar faces usually seen in entertainment news.

But he didn’t bother looking at all; his phone was only for chatting, work, and playing Ludo, and he didn’t recognize anyone.

After briefly chatting with his money-making partner and the staff, he found a stable place to sit down. The first thing he did after sitting was to take a sip of water to shake off the drowsiness that had been brewing on the car ride.

People around him came and went, as people entered and exited the audition room continuously.

The expressions on the faces of those who came out didn’t look too good.

Returning from socializing, Gao Qian quietly said to him, “The director for this audition is quite blunt. You should prepare yourself mentally.”

The pink-haired guy nodded.

Another person came out; it was his turn.

Upon entering the room, the first thing the pink-haired guy saw was the man sitting behind a makeshift table.

His hair was gray and white, and he had a crumpled cigarette tucked behind his ear as he drank water. In front of him was a sign that read “Director Zhang Zhi.”

Chen Bai felt that the director was gathering his strength while drinking water, preparing himself for the next round of frank discussions.

His first audition was for the role of the male fourth, a doctor who rose from humble beginnings through exceptional literary talent.

Though he hailed from the countryside, the doctor was well-read and had managed to avoid the corrupting influences of the political world, even after several years in the capital.

Those not tainted by corruption either become a refreshing stream or are completely consumed by it.

The doctor was fundamentally just a scholar; he couldn’t gather a refreshing current and became a victim of party conflicts.

What he had to audition for was the scene where the doctor, amidst political turmoil, was falsely accused of colluding with traitors and wrote a farewell letter declaring his innocence just before the police arrived at his residence.

There was a separate desk in the room with a blank piece of paper, a brush, and an inkstone—this was the writing desk.

Lowering his gaze, he lightly flexed his wrist. The person in simple clothes stepped into the camera’s view.

He had originally stood casually, but as he approached the desk, his posture remained unchanged, yet he seemed inexplicably tense.

It was as if there was a string pulled tight in his spine, ready to snap at any moment.

There were no furrowed brows or the typical clenching of hands that expressed nervousness; the tense atmosphere spilled out from his slowed steps and overly relaxed hands that moved with his actions.

Gao Qian stood on one side of the room, and upon seeing this, her previously clasped hands stopped, and her heart slowly relaxed.

—No wonder the previous director praised him for his talent.

Having worked with numerous artists, including many aspiring actors, this was the first time she truly experienced the tangible manifestation of talent.

The room fell silent, with only the sounds of the camera and the notebook on the table operating.

The pink hair boy and wore casual clothes, but at the moment he spoke and picked up the brush, one could faintly discern the aura of a literati.

This segment was originally supposed to end here, but the director, who was supposed to speak, remained silent, and the camera continued to roll. Gao Qian glanced at the person standing by the table, and her heart instantly tensed again.

Such unexpected situations really tested a person’s mindset.

But the pink-haired boy, having encountered countless sudden circumstances while working, didn’t let that faze him; his mindset was exceptionally good.

With no one speaking and no pauses, he continued to lower his head, pick up the brush, lightly adjusting his sleeves, and quietly wrote.

His fingers were proportionate and long, as if they were naturally meant to hold a brush.

Thick ink blurred across the white paper, and in his calm, light gray eyes, three characters formed with the brush strokes:

[Are you ready?]

It was quite sincere; the last character, “you,” was written in traditional Chinese.

“…”

The director lightly coughed and said, “Cut.”

The expressions of the people around remained unchanged, but beneath the table, hands were squeezed and released, desperately holding back laughter, with mouths curling up and down.

Chen Bai then set down the brush and slightly moved his wrists while standing in place.

With this segment finished, the director didn’t give any feedback; he neither criticized nor praised, just pondered for a moment before saying, “Let’s try another character.”

“The tavern scene will do.” He flipped through the script and then handed it to an assistant beside him, saying, “Please help me with the lines.”

Chen Bai glanced at the corner of the director’s mouth, hidden beneath his beard, and felt that the seemingly serious director had smirked just like the people around him.

Noticing this, the considerate pink-haired guy didn’t point it out.

The assistant designated to help him wasn’t new to this kind of impromptu role play; after glancing at the script a couple of times, he walked around the table and approached.

He had no lines, just had to play a waiter in the tavern. He moved a chair and stood to the side.

Meanwhile, the pink-haired guy borrowed a moderately thick script from a nearby lucky audience member, rolled it up to use as a prop fan.

The director said, “You can start as soon as you’re ready.”

Chen Bai smiled and thanked him.

The people sitting close had prime VIP seats, making direct eye contact with the light gray pupils, causing their ears to flush.

The person holding the rolled-up script turned and stepped toward the assistant.

In that moment of turning, the person who had been smiling suddenly exuded a different aura.

The playboy character was simple, yet not easy to portray.

A playboy who indulged in taverns and lived a life of excess, he was also from a noble family, which created a distinct divide from ordinary rich heirs who merely sought pleasure.

The person with the script managed to maintain that balance.

Or rather, he was indeed born with a silver spoon, having grown up surrounded by affection, a heap of servants, and a pile of gold and silver, his noble aura ingrained in his very bones, unlike the characters he portrayed.

Only then did Gao Qian remember that this person should also be a young master.

Leaning casually on the chair, the person with the script appeared relaxed, raising his hand to beckon the waiter.

The waiter approached, bowing slightly to listen to the instructions.

“You’re pretty handsome.”

The person bending down had his chin lifted by the script. The person with the script applied just the right amount of force, enough to prompt him to raise his head.

As he lifted his eyes, he saw the lazy figure slouched in the chair casting down a gaze.

The light gray pupils framed by pink hair looked down at him, filled with an unabashed appraisal, haughty and imperious.

The gaze felt almost warm, burning intensely.

Then those eyes smiled, the mirth spreading from the bottom of his eyes. He looked at the person beside him, resting his chin on one hand, as his sleeve slipped down with the movement, revealing a pale wrist. He casually said, “Why don’t you follow me?”

That voice sounded like shattered jade falling to the ground, piercing swiftly into the depths of the mind when it rang in his ears.

According to the script, the waiter should have nervously stepped back, but the assistant did not.

His eyes locked onto the long eyelashes of the person seated, which cast a slight curve onto the lower eyelid under the light.

The scene ended here.

The director called cut. The pink-haired person, who had been holding up the chin, quickly withdrew his hand and murmured an apology.

“…”

Other sounds in the room began to stir. The assistant finally came back to his senses, abruptly standing up straight and waving his hand to say it was nothing.

—That was close!

If he had been even a second later, he would have almost blurted out a “yes.”

What a frightening person.

Some people can draw someone into the scene in a second and pull them out just as quickly.

After standing up from the chair, the pink-haired guy first patted his lower back, then, while patting, said to the manager who came over to help with the script, “I almost twisted myself into a pretzel.”

“Yeah, the kind that’s so oddly shaped no one would buy it from the shelf.”

The chair was not very large; to sit with a bit of flair, one had to sacrifice their back.

His back had already been in a precarious state due to years of prolonged sitting, and that brief time sitting there had only worsened it.

“…”

This time, someone couldn’t hold back and laughed out loud.

The serious, solemn director silently raised a hand to the side of his face, covering the corner of his mouth.

After the audition concluded, the pink-haired guy finally breathed in the fresh air outside the room.

When Gao Qian saw the director’s expression as they left, she felt a sense of certainty.

After leaving, they didn’t bring up the audition results, instead, she tilted her head curiously and asked, “Your handwriting is pretty nice. Have you practiced?”

“I practiced a bit when I was younger,” Chen Bai smiled and said, “My grandfather did calligraphy, so I practiced for a while back then. I can write a little, enough to show off a bit.”

This was the umpteenth time she had heard those words “a little.”

Gao Qian felt she had learned to be more observant, stealing a glance at the pink-haired guy and asked, “What else can you do?”

“Not much,” Chen Bai casually stretched out his hand, measuring a tiny distance, and continued to smile, “Just a little.”

*

Author’s Note:

Chen Bai’s Universe at His Fingertips

P.S.: Babies, Qingzhou and Xu Sinian’s brother are two different people! Qingzhou has appeared before!

P.P.S.: (As if nothing happened) (Today’s word count) (As if nothing happened)