Chapter 29 – Don’t Leave
The forgetful one promptly registered a new account, and with guidance from a reliable friend, linked it to the platform.
Once linked, Chen Bai followed his friend, and they followed back, becoming his first follower.
His follower count continued to grow, but he didn’t pay much attention. After putting down his phone, he resumed streaming.
That night, he streamed until midnight, as planned.
After shutting down the computer, he leaned back in his chair, punched and kicked the air a bit to unwind, then sat back up and grabbed his phone to send some random meaningless messages to his good neighbor. Afterward, he picked up the script lying next to him.
The once brand-new script had now been flipped through so many times that it was twice as thick.
At 2 a.m., the room’s lights turned off, right on time.
For once, he didn’t stay up late, waking up the next morning refreshed.
Before the evening’s script read-through, Chen Bai finally learned, under the difficult-to-interpret gaze of his manager, that the gray-haired guy he met the other day was the male lead this time. His name was Zhou Jing, and he had been the cover star of the magazine Chen Bai had appeared in, with quite a large following.
No wonder he looked familiar.
His manager found it hard to comprehend how Chen Bai, who didn’t recognize someone on the same magazine cover as him, somehow knew a totally unrelated person like Xu Sinian.
During the read-through, Chen Bai, a social butterfly, successfully got to know all the main actors.
The male and female leads were both established stars, and after the read-through, they had other work commitments, so they left immediately after the session.
Once they left, Chen Bai stayed in the hotel. He had a few days to make up for some missed stream time.
While he was busy streaming, the online buzz surrounding ‘Wenming’ crew was exploding.
From casting to finalizing roles, the production team of ‘Wenming’ hadn’t disclosed anything about the lead actors, letting netizens speculate all they wanted. They kept everything tightly under wraps.
People guessed and guessed, and then finally, a few days ago, someone managed to spot a well-known actress and one of the top stars, Zhou Jing, in the film city. Although Zhou Jing’s acting skills were often criticized, given the status of these two, it was almost certain they were the leads.
Some fans even saw a few moderately famous supporting actors, but no matter how they counted, the number of actors didn’t match the main cast the production had announced. The numbers just didn’t add up, leading to even wilder speculation, with people guessing almost every available celebrity.
It wasn’t until people were out of guesses that the production team released the character photos the night before filming started.
As expected, the male and female leads were the stars who had been spotted earlier, and the other actors were also as expected. The director’s taste and budget remained impeccable as always. Regardless of the acting, at least the costumes were stunning enough to leave a lasting impression.
The only surprise was the casting of the second male lead.
He was someone who had never appeared in any film posters or promotional photos before—in other words, a complete newcomer.
In the photo, he sat by the window, draped in a dark blue robe that trailed on the floor. His eyebrows were like distant mountains, and he quietly lowered his gaze, holding a chess piece in one hand. The light from outside streamed in, landing on his pale fingers, while the black chess piece reflected the glow.
Next to him, the name “Si Yang” was written in bold calligraphy.
In one word—stunning.
At first, netizens didn’t recognize who he was. But after following the production team’s tags, they discovered that the actor playing Si Yang was a newcomer who had taken the industry by storm with a set of photos not long ago for EV magazine.
Aside from his face, most netizens found it difficult to reconcile the difference in aura and appearance between the two images.
Netizen:
[Is it really him?! The contrast is so big I almost didn’t recognize him!]
[If Si Yang looks like this, I can’t help but like him!! [rose emoji]]
[Daring to let a newcomer play the second male lead, Zhang Zhi really has confidence, money gives you guts.]
[I’m loving both the sunshine city boy and the ancient-style handsome guy! I can’t get enough!]
[He looks good, but can he act? Especially with Zhou Jing already in this.]
The comment section was pretty normal until the guy who initially posted pictures of the actors entering the hotel arrived on the scene.
He couldn’t believe it. After repeatedly confirming, he seemed so shocked that even through the screen, you could feel his disbelief:
[It’s him!!! I even spoke to him that day! He was going to shoot a movie! He even chatted with me!]
Anyone normal would find it hard to believe that an actor would squat at the hotel entrance and chat with someone for a solid ten minutes.
The guy finally remembered why that face had seemed so familiar.
Anyone who had been online recently would recognize that face, but his memory was all about the pink hair. With most of it hidden under a hat that day, his brain short-circuited and didn’t put two and two together.
The guy squatted next to him for nearly ten minutes, and neither of them recognized the other.
Turns out, the actor was right next to him the whole time, even offering friendly words of comfort afterward.
[Bro, you… hahaha]
[Hahaha, I can’t imagine a handsome guy squatting at the door with you.]
[Like dragons and phoenixes, both equally matched in strength (nodding).]
[Haha, so Chen Yi Bai ‘can’ really chat. I heard from his friends before that he’s a chatterbox, but I didn’t believe it.]
[Seen him! But where?]
…
After attending the opening ceremony rehearsal in the afternoon, Chen Bai streamed in the evening, trying to make the most of his time. Midway through, his money-making partner messaged him.
His money-making partner had already forwarded the production crew’s Weibo post and advised him to follow the production’s account.
He found a moment to follow it, then told his stream viewers and friends, “I’ve got some stuff to do over the next few days, so I won’t be able to stream. I’ll let you know in advance when the next stream will be.”
The shooting schedule for the next few days was released, and as expected, most of it involved night scenes, with wrap-ups around midnight.
By the time he’d change clothes and shower after wrapping up, it would be past 1 a.m., leaving no time for streaming.
The future shooting schedule was still being arranged, but according to the coordinator, it should be a bit better than the upcoming days, with no more overnight shoots.
He said all of this casually, and the viewers listened as usual, only realizing something was off after he finished. Groans of pain filled the chat.
It’s hard to juggle two jobs. Chen Bai was feeling it too.
Luckily, the money-making deity, Huo Chuan, was busy with a big project abroad, only occasionally messaging him via WeChat, so he hadn’t been chasing him down.
If he had to turn down a 120k job offer because of this role, Chen Bai would probably feel even worse, likely sighing in his sleep from regret.
That night, as usual, he logged off around midnight. Normally, Chen Bai never cared about his stream hours, but before shutting down the software, he checked both his streaming time and the monthly target.
He had signed a new contract with the platform, reducing his required monthly stream time from 150 hours to 100, but this month still operated under the old contract—he needed to hit 150 hours.
One-third of the month had passed, and he had already streamed for 90 hours. Normally, he would easily exceed the target by the end of the month.
But with the filming schedule, things were up in the air. His one fixed half-day off per week was reserved for his restaurant side job.
“…”
He mentally threw a few punches, picked up the notebook next to his script, then put it down softly. He switched his computer screen from the streaming software to an online video class, spinning his pen while listening.
The next day was the opening ceremony. The whole crew was there, and some media outlets were invited, making the event lively.
Though he liked to chat, Chen Bai didn’t enjoy being the center of attention. He spoke when needed but otherwise quietly enjoyed the free candy and tea on the table.
On one side of him was Zhou Jing, the male lead, who seemed busy the whole time, so Chen Bai didn’t bother him. Instead, he turned to the third male lead, recommending the tasty candy he had just tried.
The third male lead had only been in the industry for a few years and hadn’t had much experience. This was his first major role, and he was feeling quite nervous. But seeing Chen Bai casually eating and drinking, then quietly handing him a piece of candy with a thumbs-up under the table, helped him relax.
“…”
He accepted the candy.
Thus, one person’s quiet eating and drinking turned into two.
The two of them ate quietly and discreetly, without disturbing anyone. It wasn’t until someone nearby looked over that they noticed half the candy was already gone.
After the snacks came the red envelope ceremony.
The usually quiet Chen Bai visibly perked up, his eyes brightening noticeably.
Getting a red envelope is motivation to work hard. After receiving his, he took a picture of it and sent it to his good neighbor. In the afternoon, filming officially began, and some people had more energy than you’d expect from someone who went to bed at 2 a.m.
The director’s energy, especially, was something to behold.
Chen Bai hadn’t experienced it firsthand before, but today he understood why some people nearly cried during their auditions.
So far, he hadn’t been scolded yet; the director’s sharp criticisms were focused on Zhou Jing and the second female lead.
This was the first time Chen Bai had seen someone be scolded so elegantly yet with such force. He found it fascinating and observed from a safe distance where he wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire.
The female lead also seemed to be watching and learning, though she kept her observations discreet.
The workload for lead actors and supporting characters was very different. Besides learning from the director’s scolding out of interest, Chen Bai also had a lot to learn. He barely touched his phone all day, and it wasn’t until he got back to the hotel after showering that he finally checked it.
There was quite a bit of news coming in. Messages from Huo Chuan’s mother and the Huo Qing who he kept in contact with from time to time, arrived after he shared his red envelope. Then, a message from his good neighbor came through.
A simple congratulatory message, along with a red envelope.
The amount in the red envelope wasn’t large, just within an acceptable range for him.
“Red envelope +1 for today,” he typed as he thanked Boss Xu for the gift and sent a reaction sticker he had stolen from somewhere else the day before.
After confirming that the sticker had been sent, he exited the conversation and checked the messages from the Huo Qing and Huo’s mother.
Huo Qing also sent congratulations for the start of filming, but Huo’s mother was more direct, sending a voice message complimenting how good he looked in the promo photos and mentioning that many flowers in the garden had wilted recently.
Huo’s mother usually had no one to talk to in the estate, and after Huo Qing went off to school, the place became even lonelier. Ever since the hospital phone call, she had become his “internet friend.” He began typing a response but then deleted it, opting instead to send a voice message.
The late-night filming routine lasted nearly a week. With the rainy season approaching, the production crew was doing everything possible to maximize the time before the weather changed.
Late nights and early mornings were common. Chen Bai, with his pink hair, had no problem staying up past 2 a.m., remaining lively each day. In contrast, the other actors looked increasingly exhausted, with dead-eyed stares, especially the makeup and props teams. They sometimes had to wake up as early as 4 a.m., and they seemed one more sleepless night away from collapsing on the spot.
The good news was that they managed to meet the schedule before the city became covered in dark clouds, signaling the end of the overnight shoots. The whole crew felt a sense of liberation.
One rare evening with no scenes to film, and with only two more scenes left to wrap up the day’s work, Chen Bai and his third-male-lead buddy took a break, sitting side by side on folding chairs.
The buddy, always up to date with the latest gossip, browsed recent news while Chen Bai, uninterested in his phone, watched the lead actors rehearse.
“Chen Yi Bai, take a look at this.”
While watching, his buddy nudged him and said, “Huo Chuan… You probably don’t know, but he’s a really rich guy. Something seems to be going on with him.”
Considerate as ever, knowing that Chen Bai didn’t usually follow such news, his buddy gave a quick explanation.
Hearing the familiar name, Chen Bai raised an eyebrow and turned his head. “Let me see.”
His buddy placed his phone in the middle for Chen Bai to get a clearer view.
On the screen was a news article, the kind typical of clickbait headlines, but the content was fairly normal. The important part was the photo.
There, unmistakably, was Huo Chuan—the “Wealth God.” The man was bending over, holding the car door open, reaching out his hand to someone seated inside.
The person who took the photo had managed to capture it all, even from abroad.
Chen Bai: “Whoa.”
He had thought Huo Chuan went overseas to make more money, but it turns out the guy went abroad to see his ‘white moonlight’.
A proper “Wealth God,” but sadly, a hopeless romantic.
The problem was that the person he liked didn’t even like him back. It would be better for him to focus on making more money.
He commented, “Maybe it’s unrequited love.”
“Really?” His buddy didn’t seem convinced. “With his status, who would turn him down?”
Chen Bai had to agree with that logic.
After sharing the gossip, his buddy put his phone away and reminded him, “Your phone’s been vibrating.”
Chen Bai glanced down at his phone lying nearby.
It was a call. The screen lit up, displaying: Wealth God.
Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.
He stood up to take the call.
He was already used to the loose, flowing robes he wore for the role, walking naturally in them as he moved to a quieter spot to answer.
The sky was already starting to darken. He stood by a ginkgo tree on the edge of the set, where it was less crowded, and answered the call while glancing at the sky.
The person on the other end was as direct as ever, asking, “Do you have time tonight?”
The sunset was a striking red, signaling that it would probably rain later. Chen Bai withdrew his gaze and answered honestly, “After 8 p.m., I’m free.”
Huo Chuan said he wanted to meet.
Chen Bai: “Huh?”
If he wasn’t mistaken, Huo should still be abroad.
Though he could really use that 120,000 yuan, he wasn’t planning to expand his business overseas just yet.
Sensing his confusion, Huo clarified, “I took a red-eye flight. I’m already back.”
Chen Bai agreed and professionally asked for the time and location.
They were to meet in the city at 9 p.m.
Taking a bus and transferring to the subway would be too slow, but taking a taxi should get him there in time. Being cautious, he added, “Make sure to cover my round-trip fare.”
There was a brief pause on the other end before Huo Chuan agreed.
After the short call ended, Chen Bai put away his phone and returned to his buddy.
“Got plans for tonight?” his buddy asked.
Chen Bai smiled. “Going to meet the Wealth God.”
The final two scenes wrapped up without any need for retakes, and Chen Bai was the first to leave the set.
For the sake of his overworked manager’s sanity—and to avoid making headlines alongside Huo Chuan—he made a big investment in a simple face mask.
A medical mask, easy to buy and convenient.
With some time left before the meeting, he remembered that Huo’s mother had mentioned the garden’s flowers were wilting, so before heading out, he stopped by a nearby flower shop and bought a bouquet of sunflowers. A small gesture of comfort for his “internet friend,” and it could also double as a follow-up for the Huo Qing’s order.
Huo Qing was loaded and paid well, so buying a few extra bouquets wouldn’t hurt.
The film set was close to a flower market, where many people bought flowers either for photos or as gifts. The flowers were fresh.
With the bouquet in hand, he lowered the brim of his hat slightly and got into a taxi.
From the darkened suburbs to the towering buildings of the city, nearing the destination, he put away his phone in the back seat.
As he got out of the car, the wind blowing through the streets signaled that rain was indeed on its way.
Holding down his hat, he walked into the store where Huo Chuan had arranged to meet. There was no need for any ID check; after mentioning Huo Chuan’s name, a staff member led him directly to a private room on the second floor.
The Wealth God was already inside drinking. The corridor of the restaurant was filled with a light fragrance, but once inside the room, the scent was overwhelmed by the smell of alcohol.
After closing the door behind him, Chen Bai took off his mask and put it in his pocket, along with his hat.
The room was dimly lit. The man reclining on the sofa barely lifted his eyes to glance at him and said, “You’re here.”
His voice was a bit hoarse, and he looked tired.
Chen Bai acknowledged him with a word.
Just having returned to the country and not adjusting to the time difference, anyone would be exhausted. Coming back like this, it seemed things hadn’t gone well with the “White Moonlight” (the person he admired from afar).
Sitting down at a reasonable distance, Chen Bai placed the bouquet of flowers he had brought on the table. The man, still half-reclining, sat up and reached for a glass of wine on the table, saying, “Have a drink.”
The man, now coming into the light, cast shadows over his eyebrows and nose as his gaze fixed directly on Chen Bai.
Chen Bai didn’t move, politely declining, “I can’t drink.”
He had work tomorrow, and if his body functioned the same way as his real body, he was a lightweight—one glass and he’d be down, essentially meaning he couldn’t touch alcohol.
His refusal was natural. Huo Chuan paused, then smiled slightly, saying, “You really are like him.”
He withdrew the glass of wine and drank it himself.
Chen Bai kindly reminded him, “Drinking while adjusting to jet lag will make you feel terrible later.”
The man loosened his shirt cufflinks, rolled up his sleeves halfway, and lay back down. “I can’t drink too much,” he muttered.
That was his own admission. Having done his part to offer advice, Chen Bai said no more, pouring himself a glass of warm water.
The longer he stayed in the room, the more even the water seemed to have the taste of alcohol.
The man on the sofa drank one glass after another, chatting intermittently, occasionally mentioning his “White Moonlight.”
A master of conversation, Chen Bai could keep the discussion going, leaning against the sofa, holding his cup, listening. Whenever the White Moonlight came up, he perked up a bit, even considering ordering a fruit platter.
But the Wealth God only brushed past the topic with a couple of sentences.
The room fell silent. Outside, it had begun to rain.
The sound of raindrops pattering against the windows filled the air.
Huo Chuan leaned back on the sofa, listening to the dense rain, his gaze hazy. In the dim room, only the bouquet of bright sunflowers, half-lit by the light, stood out.
As the alcohol spread through his system, he turned his head, looking at the person sitting nearby.
It seemed he hadn’t expected Chen Bai to look back so suddenly. The man, casually resting on the sofa, paused, his hands still holding his water cup, eyes lowering as he asked with a faint smile, “Tired?”
Huo Chuan didn’t try to sit up or make any other movement, his half-closed eyes finally shutting.
“…”
With jet lag, lack of rest, and having drunk quite a bit, the Wealth God fell asleep.
The empty wine glass toppled over onto the sofa. Chen Bai leaned over, picked it up, and placed it on the table, his eyes narrowing into a smile.
The Wealth God had finally fallen asleep, meaning the job was done early.
Knowing the owner of this place was a close friend of Huo Chuan, Chen Bai set down his water cup, put on his hat, and went to the front desk to inform them. He asked them to contact the owner, briefly explaining that the Wealth God had drunk too much and needed someone to take him home.
With the Wealth God’s vast fortune, casually calling a driver wouldn’t be appropriate—only a trusted friend could be counted on.
The friend’s voice on the other end of the phone was loud and noisy, as if they were still out somewhere. After agreeing, they hung up.
Now it was just a matter of waiting for the friend to arrive.
Returning to the room, Chen Bai sat back on the sofa and took off his hat, checking the time.
It was still early. The friend was quite far away, and with the rain, it would take about an hour for them to arrive.
With nothing else to do, and the environment making him drowsy, Chen Bai chose not to read a script or a book. Instead, he put on his headphones and invited his good neighbor, who happened to be off work today, to join him in a spirited game of Ludo.
His neighbor accepted the invitation, once again proving to be a reliable partner.
As usual, Chen Bai’s luck was terrible—rolling ones repeatedly, while a yellow piece was chasing him closely from behind.
“I’m moving fast—wait, no, Xiao Xu, you’re about to land on my plane! You’re going to hit my only plane that’s airborne!”
With the intensity of a championship match, Chen Bai unconsciously straightened up, saying, “Hold on, don’t move yet. Let me go first.”
“Alright…”
—“Don’t leave.”
Just as things were getting tense, a low, hoarse voice came from beside him. Chen Bai turned his head and saw the Wealth God had rolled over at some point.
He was talking, but his eyes remained mostly closed.
It was clear he had drunk too much and was confusing Chen Bai with his White Moonlight—or perhaps he was just speaking in a dream, his romantic tendencies surfacing in his sleep. Busy as he was, Chen Bai casually replied, “I’m not leaving.”
Then, returning to the heated Ludo match, he saw it was now his battle partner’s turn to roll the dice.
“…”
The countdown ticked by, but his partner didn’t move.
Even the previously active voice on the call had gone silent.
NOOOOO orz