The Stand-in Side Character Only Wants to Make Money – CH30

Chapter 30 – Income +W.

Hearing no response and thinking there might be a technical issue, Chen Bai asked, “Xiao Xu?”

“…”

After a long silence, just as he was starting to wonder if there was a network problem, a deep voice finally came through his headset: “I’m here.”

Though not exactly timely.

With no action on his side, the system auto-piloted, rolling a four and moving his plane forward four spaces—right onto his only airborne piece, sending it back to the start.

“…”

Hit by friendly fire, this time it was Chen Bai’s turn to fall silent.

With the hopelessly romantic Wealth God asleep beside him, he couldn’t shout, so he just shed metaphorical tears as he tried to get his piece airborne again.

He rolled a one. An odd number. No takeoff.

The situation was so dismal that the person on the other end of the call apologized.
Chen Bai didn’t think it was his reliable teammate’s fault. He assumed there had been some issue with the network or system and said it was fine.

Finally, the dice came back around to him. He closed his eyes and rolled, getting an even number, which meant he could finally take off.

Just like in previous casual chats, his neighbor asked him where he was now.

“It’s a long story. I’m over on the east side of the city with a… friend.”

The word “client” almost slipped out, but even though the client was fast asleep and probably couldn’t hear, he instinctively corrected himself.

“Friend,” the neighbor asked, “is it the same friend you played games with before?”

Chen Bai honestly replied that it wasn’t.

The other side went quiet for a moment before asking when he’d be returning to the filming set. Glancing at the sleeping person nearby, Chen Bai shifted his position further away and said, “Once I take my friend home, I’ll head back.”

After a moment of silence, his neighbor agreed.

As expected, Chen Bai ended up finishing last in this round of Ludo.

After two rounds of Ludo, his record was one second-to-last and one last place—far from glorious, but at least it was enough to clear his head a bit.

Feeling more alert now, Chen Bai figured that the friend should be arriving soon. He said goodbye to his neighbor, took off his headphones, and sent a shoulder-patting emoji to the neighbor, who had been unusually quiet, perhaps out of guilt for stepping on his plane during the game. They made plans to play again sometime, and Chen Bai, ever thoughtful, finally put his phone away and settled in to wait for the Wealth God’s friend.

The friend’s surname was Zhang, though Chen Bai couldn’t recall his full name—just that it was three characters long, “Zhang something.”

“Zhang something” showed up right on the hour.

“Knock, knock.”

Just as Chen Bai finished his glass of water and set it down, the clink of glass meeting the table echoed softly, followed by a knock at the door. Chen Bai got up to open it.

Standing at the entrance was a man in a flashy floral shirt, with the strong smell of smoke greeting him.

Chen Bai looked up and met the man’s eyes.

“…”

The floral shirt guy was Zhang something. With one hand still in the knocking position, he looked down at Chen Bai, seemingly stunned for a moment before saying, “Weren’t you the one at the engagement party?”

The comment, though abrupt and oddly timed, made sense to Chen Bai in a strange way. He realized the guy was talking about the engagement banquet.

Zhang something took the cigarette from his mouth and asked, “Do you mind the smell of smoke?”

Chen Bai didn’t smoke and didn’t particularly like it, but he could tolerate it.

Nevertheless, Zhang something stubbed out his cigarette.

Chen Bai felt that something was off with the situation, or maybe the basic character settings weren’t aligning with what he knew. Zhang something was acting far too polite. According to the novel, this friend of the Wealth God’s had a key role in the tragic, abusive relationship between the Wealth God and the supporting character. Zhang something had a habit of looking down on the supporting character—or, rather, on all the stand-ins around the Wealth God. His sharp tongue was notorious, and his cruelty played a big part in the supporting character’s suffering.

But this overly polite friend walked into the room, glanced around, and hoisted the person slumped on the sofa over his shoulder.

He was ready to leave immediately.

Chen Bai, standing to the side, put on his hat and mask, picked up the important umbrella and bouquet, and casually grabbed the Wealth God’s coat to carry in his arms.

Zhang something noticed the flowers in Chen Bai’s hands but didn’t say much, struggling a bit to carry the Wealth God out.

His car was parked in the underground garage, and luckily it wasn’t a two-seater sports car this time. It could fit two people and one drunk.

Zhang something had come out to have fun, driving himself without a chauffeur. Now, after playing the role of a mover, he had to take on the job of a driver.

The Wealth God was laid out in the backseat to continue sleeping, and to avoid any incidents from a sudden brake, Chen Bai also sat in the back.

While he could get squeezed, the flowers could not, so the bouquet of sunflowers was carefully placed in the front seat, with its seatbelt securely fastened, following traffic regulations.

Zhang something glanced at the sunflowers buckled in with a side-eye and commented, “You really treasure that bouquet, huh?”

Chen Bai nodded slightly. “Of course.”

After all, it was bought with his own money, and damaging even a single flower would be disrespecting his wallet.

With the roar of the engine, the car left the parking garage.

It was about a twenty-minute drive to Huo Chuan’s place—not too far.

In that short time, Zhang something learned quite a bit about how different the person in the backseat was from his friend’s usual companions.

—Mainly, that this guy could really talk, and was very easygoing.

It felt as though they had known each other for ages. No matter what Zhang something said, Chen Bai had a response.

This person was straightforward, neither trying to curry favor nor putting on a cold front—he just genuinely liked to chat.

For the first time, Zhang something found the thirty-minute drive to be surprisingly short. Only when the GPS announced their arrival did he realize they had reached their destination.

Since he also owned a property here, Zhang something entered the parking lot as a resident. After parking, he resumed his role as a mover.

Chen Bai, holding the flowers, offered him moral support.

Zhang something appreciated the spiritual encouragement.

The elevator ride was brief, and they stopped in front of the apartment door. Using the Wealth God’s hand, Zhang something opened the door and expertly tossed him onto the sofa inside.

There was no hesitation in his throw—it was clear they were good friends.

Chen Bai didn’t step inside, staying at the doorway as he handed over the flowers and coat.

Zhang something paused, then asked, “You’re not coming in?”

This was a perfect, legitimate chance to step inside.

Chen Bai hadn’t planned to enter. With the Wealth God safely delivered, his 120,000-yuan salary was already secured. He had no intention of extending his work hours. “No, thanks. I’ve got work tomorrow,” he replied.

Zhang something could only reach out to accept the coat and flowers.

Chen Bai added, “Please let Mr. Huo know the flowers are for his mother.”

“Ring—”

The latter half of his sentence was drowned out by the ringtone coming from Zhang something’s floral shirt pocket. Fortunately, the friend seemed to have heard him and promised to pass along the message.
With everything settled, Chen Bai left with peace of mind.

No matter how late it was, it was always easy to catch a cab in the city center. Since the return fare was covered, he didn’t hesitate to hop into a taxi.

By the time he returned to the set that night, it was already past midnight. After washing up, it was almost 1 AM. Feeling that it was still early, he sent his neighbor a message to let them know he’d made it back to the hotel safely. He then forwarded the day’s taxi receipt to his good client.

After sending the bill, he realized it had been another lucrative day.

—

It rained all night, and though it eased by the next day, it continued on and on without stopping.

Huo Chuan woke up on the sofa, in his own house.

His head throbbed as he sat up and glanced at his still-rolled-up shirt sleeves—he was still in yesterday’s clothes.

“Well, you’re up.”

At his movement, the person sitting nearby, sipping soy milk while scrolling through their phone, glanced over at him and casually took a photo. They then started typing on their phone and made a remark, complaining that Huo Chuan didn’t have a housekeeper to cook breakfast, forcing them to order takeout.

Loosening his tie, Huo Chuan leaned back on the sofa and asked, “What are you taking pictures for?”

Zhang Something replied, “Just sending it to your little lover, letting him know you’re awake.”

Huo Chuan tilted his head back to drink from the glass of water on the table and said, “He’s not my lover.”

“Oh?”

Zhang Something didn’t look convinced but didn’t push it. He pointed at the bouquet placed neatly on the table. “He specifically asked me to make sure you got this.”

Although Zhang Something hadn’t heard everything clearly yesterday because of the phone ringing, he could roughly guess what had been said. There were only two people in the room—Huo Chuan and him—and the flowers certainly weren’t for him, so it was obvious who they were meant for.

Thick clouds loomed outside, and the gray light filtering through the windows cast a cold hue over the room. In the midst of this, the vibrant sunflowers on the table stood out as the only warmth, almost as if they were naturally shielded from the damp and gloom.

Huo Chuan recognized the bouquet—he had seen it when the person entered the room yesterday.

“…”

After glancing at the flowers for a moment, Huo Chuan lifted his head and asked, “Did you add him on WeChat?”

A slow reaction.

“Yeah, we hit it off last night, so I just added him.”

Zhang Something nodded and, after finishing his soy milk, started munching on a bun. Between bites, he added, “Don’t worry, I’m not so much of a beast that I go after everyone. I just wanted to get to know him.”

“He really treasures that bouquet, you know. Leaving it with you is a waste.” He nodded toward the flowers and glanced at Huo Chuan on the sofa. “I remember he was the guy from Qian Duoduo’s engagement banquet, right?”

Huo Chuan unbuttoned a few shirt buttons and got up to wash up, confirming as much. He didn’t want to continue the conversation and reiterated his real relationship with Chen Bai.

“I get it—just a business deal.”

Zhang Something, showing no signs of waiting for Huo Chuan to finish washing up, followed him to the bathroom and continued the topic. “But I think he might actually have feelings for you.”

The sound of shattering glass from that day still gave people goosebumps, and you could even feel a slight sting in your eardrums. In that situation, charging forward without hesitation wasn’t something anyone would do just for money.

“That happened a long time ago. You can’t hold onto it forever,” Zhang Something said. “Might as well take the chance to find someone who genuinely cares about you.”

“Splash—”

There was no response to the floral shirt-wearer’s words, only the constant sound of running water from the bathroom.

—

After a good night’s sleep at the hotel, Chen Bai arrived for work on time the next day.

During a break in the morning, figuring that the Wealth God should have sobered up by now, Chen Bai sat on his small folding stool and pulled out his phone to send a message.

As it turned out, the Wealth God was indeed awake, according to a message from the newly added contact.

Thanks to Zhang Something’s out-of-nowhere information sharing, Chen Bai was able to accurately locate the Wealth God in his chat list.

Although he had already told Zhang Something yesterday that the flowers were meant for Huo Chuan’s mother, he had forgotten to mention that it would be best to deliver them to the estate as soon as possible.

The Wealth God had a habit of returning to the estate after wrapping up any project, so Chen Bai hoped someone would help pass the flowers along. But if it took too long for him to go back, the flowers would probably start wilting.

By coincidence, as Chen Bai was typing, the Wealth God was also typing.

Before Chen Bai could send his message, a notification popped up about a transaction—200,000 yuan had been deposited into his bank account.

The Wealth God’s message followed right after, saying the payment had been made and that the extra was for the flowers. He also added that there was no need to bring flowers next time they met.

“…”

Chen Bai glanced at the text he had typed out, then quickly deleted it in silence and simply replied, “Got it.”

Somewhere along the line, the Wealth God seemed to have misunderstood something.

Faced with the choice of explaining or accepting the 80,000 yuan extra, Chen Bai chose the latter. He immediately ordered another bouquet to be delivered to the estate.

Just as he finished placing the order, his break time ended.

It was a rainy day, perfect for filming the scenes that required rain, and most of Chen Bai’s time today was spent shooting scenes with the male lead.

Although they were working under a tight schedule, progress was slow.

The main issue was with Zhou Jing. No matter how many takes they did, the director wasn’t satisfied. After dozens of takes, the entire crew was so tense that no one dared to speak.

Since the actor had been personally selected, replacing him wasn’t an option. The director, visibly strained, kept directing Zhou Jing, his voice hoarse from all the talking.

By the end of the day, they had barely met the day’s production goals.

Over the next few days, the whole crew could tell that Zhou Jing wasn’t in the right state. He had trouble getting into character during filming, and off-camera, he looked exhausted—there was even one ridiculous instance where he fell asleep in his chair.

Watching as Zhou Jing was once again called aside by the director, Chen Bai squatted on his folding stool and asked his co-star, the third male lead, “Something seems really off with him lately, doesn’t it?”

No matter how many times someone got scolded by the director, they shouldn’t end up like this.

“You don’t know?” his co-star gave him a glance, then smacked his own forehead. “Oh right, of course you wouldn’t.”
He said, “Didn’t a newcomer from the makeup team get fired yesterday? It’s related to that. The person didn’t follow the rules and secretly recorded a video of the director scolding Zhou Jing, then anonymously posted it online.”

Newcomers in the industry sometimes come across insider information they usually wouldn’t have access to, and it can inflate their ego and fuel their desire to share. Thinking that anonymity would protect them, they posted it online, but it only took a couple of days for them to get caught.

This person committed one of the biggest taboos in the industry, so their career prospects are probably finished.

The person was fired, but the video is still online. It’s been shared and reposted by too many people, so even if it gets deleted now, it won’t make much of a difference.

The current online sentiment is heavily criticizing Zhou Jing, calling for the director to replace him, while Zhou Jing’s fans are attacking the director.

In short, both sides are being criticized, and the pressure is intense.

Celebrities are people too. Even if they try to avoid seeing these messages, they’ll inevitably catch glimpses when they open their phones and see the notifications from various apps. It’s hard not to feel down after that, and the heavier the pressure, the harder it is to perform. From the looks of it, Zhou Jing probably hasn’t been sleeping well and hasn’t been eating properly either.

It’s definitely tough, and Chen Bai nodded in understanding.

Then they watched as the person who had been called over by the director for a talk finished and headed toward them.

The third male lead, who didn’t have many scenes with Zhou Jing, was feeling nervous. Even though Zhou Jing was getting heavily scolded, he was still a high-ranking and popular actor.

Fortunately, Zhou Jing wasn’t heading his way.

He walked over to where Chen Bai sat on his small stool and, looking down at him in his navy blue robe, asked, “Do you have time tonight?”

It was obvious he had something on his mind.

Since their filming would run late tonight, Chen Bai originally planned to use his free time for study since there wouldn’t be enough time for a live stream. But he was always ready to lend a hand, so he said, “If it doesn’t take too long.”

With that confirmation, Zhou Jing nodded and went back to his seat to continue reading the script.

As Zhou Jing left, Chen Bai’s co-star asked worriedly, “He’s not up to something, is he?”

Chen Bai smiled and said, “No.”

That evening, after days of rain, there was a brief pause in the weather. But after the crew wrapped for the night, the drizzle resumed.

As always, Chen Bai’s luck held out. Halfway back to the hotel, he was caught in a downpour.

After getting back to his room, he immediately took a shower and changed into his simple, classic 39.9-yuan outfit. As he dried his hair, he casually opened his laptop.

Just as he took out his laptop, Zhou Jing, who had agreed to meet him, knocked on the door.

Hearing the knock, Chen Bai went to the door with a towel still on his head.

Standing outside was Zhou Jing, whose hair also appeared damp.

Seeing his drenched comrade, Chen Bai was delighted. “You got caught in the rain too?”

Zhou Jing looked confused. “Huh?”

Chen Bai smiled. “It’s nothing.”

So it turned out only Chen Bai had been properly soaked.

The drenched Chen Bai invited Zhou Jing into the room.

Contrary to what his co-star had worried about, Zhou Jing didn’t have anything complex in mind. He had come purely for the sake of running through their lines together and was carrying a thick stack of scripts.

They had several scenes together the next day, and going over them in advance would help them get a better handle on things, possibly speeding up the currently slow progress.

Chen Bai let him sit on the sofa and went to grab his own script and notebook from the bedroom. As he came back, he said, “We could run through lines during tomorrow’s breaks, too.”

His words carried no hidden meaning—he was just suggesting a practical and effective approach.

Zhou Jing looked up at him and, after seeing that there really was no ulterior motive in Chen Bai’s eyes, slowly let out a breath. “I’m afraid more rumors will start.”

He was getting criticized for anything he did—whether he was scolded or even just rehearsing lines, people might accuse him of pretending to work hard while being bad at acting. The more he did, the more mistakes he could make, so he had no choice but to rehearse in private.

In short, he wanted to “secretly hustle.”

Chen Bai respected his choice and sat down on the sofa beside him. He picked up his phone to check the filming schedule for the next day and made some simple notes in the script and notebook.

Zhou Jing had come prepared. He had already memorized several scenes, and while Chen Bai marked his script, Zhou Jing went over his lines again.

He had thought it would take Chen Bai a while to memorize the lines, but it didn’t take long.

After briefly selecting the scenes, Chen Bai said they could start.

Zhou Jing asked, “You don’t need to memorize the lines?”

Chen Bai put down his script and said, “I’ve got most of them memorized.”

Zhou Jing nodded, thinking that “most of them” would do.

But after going through two scenes, Zhou Jing realized that when Chen Bai said “most,” it had been an understatement.

Chen Bai remembered every single line, every movement, every subtle pause. Even in a casual rehearsal, he was immediately in character, with no difference from his formal performance.

Once again, Zhou Jing felt that familiar, subtle pressure.

He had felt the same thing when acting opposite the actress who played the female lead—a veteran actress who had won numerous awards. But here was Chen Bai, a newcomer who, from what Zhou Jing had heard, had only played one significant supporting role before this.

As Zhou Jing finished the last line, he let out a long breath, leaning back against the sofa as he relaxed. Grabbing his script, he muttered, “Talent is terrifying.”

Chen Bai asked, “Hmm?”

Zhou Jing, his fingers fiddling with the script, his voice hoarse, said, “I’m not professionally trained, and I wasn’t even meant to be an actor. I can’t compare to those who are professionally trained, and my acting can’t match up to those with natural talent.”

Chen Bai understood. It seemed he was the “naturally talented” one.

He waved it off. “It’s not talent; it’s the result of learning. And I’m not that good yet.”

Then he added, “If you’re not professionally trained, you can always learn.”
The courses at the Film Academy are available on the school’s shared course website, covering both practical and cultural aspects. The teaching is not performance-oriented, and the content is solid and substantial, with national first-class actors teaching online. It’s worth having.

It sounds right, but in reality, it feels more like an empty statement. Zhou Jing thought that with the intensity of this production crew, trying to study on top of everything else would be nearly impossible for a normal person.

Before being removed from the cast, Chen Bai pulled out his nearly filled notebook.

Zhou Jing: “?”

—It turns out, there really are people who can do it.

Chen Bai wasn’t just saying empty words—he was stating a fact.

Holding his script, Chen Bai repeated the fact: “Rather than losing sleep and tossing and turning because of the opinions of strangers online, it’s better to get up and study.”

Zhou Jing: “…”

Zhou Jing had to admit, Chen Bai made sense.

He corrected, “I wasn’t tossing and turning.”

Chen Bai replied, “Then you really did lose sleep over those comments.”

“…”

Zhou Jing rubbed his face. “…Just don’t tell anyone.”

And that’s how Chen Bai’s study team gained a new member.

Zhou Jing received a new notebook and the chance to study together in Chen Bai’s room.

The new notebook was Chen Bai’s backup notebook 2.0, but it wasn’t free—he had to pay for it.

As Chen Bai said, “Even a few bucks is still money.”

Feeling a bit conflicted, Zhou Jing paid and suggested they study in the living room.

Chen Bai quietly showed him the desktop computer he had already set up.

Good news: the large screen was easier on the eyes.

Bad news: it wasn’t portable.

“…”

Zhou Jing didn’t know whether to be more shocked that Chen Bai had managed to set up a desktop computer without anyone noticing or that he had assembled it by himself.

Finally, he asked, “What are those things beside the screen?”

He was pointing at the streaming equipment.

They looked at each other.

After a moment, Chen Bai ran his hand through his hair and laughed, “Haha.”

It was a vague and evasive laugh but also somehow serious.

*Author’s Note:*

Piece by piece, patching up little Xu, dusting him off so he’s still usable x

All characters in the story are purely original and have no real-life references, completely unrelated to real people.

---

Translator Note:

Hi guys! Thank you for your support till now, I really appreciate it XD

Just a quick announcement, so starting from Chapter 31, the posting schedule will change from everyday posts to Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday every week

For those who prefer not to wait, you can head over to my Ko-fi store and purchase the rest of the translated novel for early access.

Thank you so much for your support and understanding, and I hope you enjoy the journey ahead!