Chapter 33 – Eight Yuan and Ninety Cents, No Rounding Off
It was clear that Xu Sinian hadn’t rolled up anyone’s sleeves before, as his technique was clumsy but thorough. By the time he finished, the rolled-up sleeves were neat and tidy around the wrist.
Chen Bai lowered his head to look at his sleeves and finally realized what his good neighbor had intended.
When Xu had asked him to hold out his hand earlier, he thought Xu was going to shake hands with him like a leader, but it turned out he was just doing this.
Chen Bai’s eyes widened slightly, and he raised his other hand to give a thumbs-up, saying, “Comrade Xiao Xu, you’re really a good person.”
Xu Sinian looked up slightly, waiting for what was coming next.
Chen Bai gave a firm nod and said seriously, “We must be best friends for life.”
It sounded like a childish declaration, but it was heartfelt.
Xu Sinian: “…”
Once both sleeves were rolled up, Xu Sinian straightened up and said, “Done.”
Chen Bai looked at his now-visible hands in the mirror and was quite satisfied. He turned around, sank into the sofa by the window, and pulled out his phone.
As soon as he pulled out his phone, Xu Sinian knew what he was going to do.
Sure enough, the person on the sofa skillfully opened a mini-game and patted the seat next to him.
The Ludo game started!
Some people, the more they lose, the more determined they are to win. Chen Bai had gotten so obsessed with this game meant for relaxation that he was determined to master it.
Xu Sinian sat down beside him. Chen Bai glanced at his phone, then back at Xu, as if he suddenly remembered something. He brought up how earlier Xu Sinian had mentioned he could just call instead of messaging.
With his quality of sleep, messages wouldn’t wake him, but a phone call probably would have worked.
Yet his good neighbor still sent messages. Luckily, Chen Bai woke up early enough and didn’t miss them.
As for the messages sent at 6 a.m., Xu Sinian was quiet for a moment before saying, “I listened to them several times and couldn’t decipher what you were saying.”
Chen Bai, “?”
For a moment, Chen Bai didn’t understand why his words needed to be ‘deciphered.’ He returned to the chat log and played back the voice messages he had sent earlier that morning.
Chen Bai “…”
He took back his earlier thoughts.
What he had sent wasn’t words. It was just a string of slightly fluctuating, unintelligible sounds, with a pause in the middle — probably when he dozed off while recording.
It sounded like some kind of mysterious alien language, the kind that required brainpower to decode.
His 6 a.m. brain had clearly been unreliable.
Without the courage to listen to his strange voice message again, Chen Bai decisively chose to stop the playback.
Feeling bad that Xu Sinian had listened to it several times, Chen patted his good neighbor on the shoulder and solemnly said, “Thank you for your hard work.”
Xu Sinian obligingly replied that it wasn’t hard.
The Ludo game, which had paused halfway through, resumed.
Once again, Chen Bai ended up losing to Xu Sinian. Hugging his pillow, he slumped from sitting to leaning to fully lying down. His eyes dimmed from bright to lifeless.
Having once again been crushed back to square one, he asked calmly, “What’s for lunch and dinner today?”
Xu Sinian looked down at him and asked, “Are you staying here all day?”
Chen Bai opened his eyes. “Do you have other plans?”
With a hint of disbelief, he added, “Are you trying to get rid of me?!”
The theatrics had begun.
“I don’t have other plans,” Xu Sinian replied. “I thought you might have friends to meet today.”
His tone was as steady as ever, like he was just stating a fact, with no other intentions.
The person, who had now slid all the way down into the sofa, raised his eyes. “Friends?”
Xu listed, “Friends you play games with, that friend who got drunk with you last time.”
Maybe he had other friends that Xu Sinian didn’t know about.
Chen Bai waved his hand dismissively. “I never said I’d meet them.”
He turned over lazily and propped up his face. “Even if I did, they’d have to wait their turn.”
Xu Sinian looked down at him.
Chen Bai added, “They’re friends, but you’re my most important best friend.”
He was very clear about the difference.
Besides, one of those friends wasn’t even really a friend, just a client.
Without pay, no one would want to see a client’s face during their time off.
The game screen popped up the results, and once again, he ranked last. The pink-haired person put down his phone and quietly died inside.
In the end, his important best friend joined him for a game. His friend rolled the dice, while he controlled the planes.
For once, he finally escaped from being last place. He sincerely thanked his friend for the hard work and even changed his chat background from their previous photo to a screenshot of the game results.
At noon, they ordered room service from the hotel.
Chen Bai thought it must have been because the dessert was really good, as his good neighbor seemed to be in an even better mood than before. He even laughed a few times while talking to him.
Someone who had originally been planning their afternoon during lunch ended up lying on the sofa after the meal, instantly switching into sleep mode.
For the whole afternoon, Chen Bai moved from the sofa to the bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When he woke up, the sky, which hadn’t been very bright to begin with, had grown even darker. He glanced at the time—it was exactly 6:00 p.m.
Rubbing his sore back, he got out of bed and walked into the living room, where he saw his good neighbor quietly reading a book.
The book was one from the living room bookshelf. When Xu Sinian noticed him coming out of the room, he put the book back and told him to put on his jacket.
After an afternoon nap that was longer than his usual nighttime sleep, Chen Bai felt refreshed. He put on the cool windbreaker again, with the sleeves still rolled up, so there was no need to adjust them.
It was still raining outside, and the warm yellow light from the living room lamps penetrated the glass windows.
Since they both had to go to the film set early in the morning, Xu Sinian would be leaving that night.
The heavy rain showed no sign of stopping. Before his friend left, Chen Bai took off the jacket and tried to return it, saying, ‘It’s probably cold outside.’
As he was halfway through unzipping the jacket, Xu Sinian zipped it back up for him, saying, “It’s not cold. Keep it for now, no need to return it yet.”
After putting on his hat and mask, Xu Sinian glanced at his watch. He helped Chen Bei put on the hood of the jacket and said, “Let’s go downstairs together.”
There weren’t many people in the hotel at this hour, and the elevator was empty.
The elevator descended and stopped at the floor where Chen Bai had originally been staying.
Even though it was raining, there might still be persistent fans waiting outside. Since it was cold, the ‘cool guy’ in the windbreaker decided to stay on his own floor.
Maybe it was because he had slept so much that afternoon, and also had some warming remedies brought by his neighbor. Chen Bai, who had felt like he was catching a cold earlier in the day, was now fully revitalized by the evening.
When he returned to his room that night, it was just in time for the film crew to finish work for the day. He bumped into his study buddy, and they immediately started studying together.
Some people’s good moods are obvious, even without saying anything.
During a break in note-taking, Zhou Jing turned to him and asked, “You seem to be in a good mood today?”
The pink-haired boy smiled and said, “My friend came to visit me today.”
And he had won a round of the flying chess game, so of course, he was in a good mood.
His study buddy replied, “I see.”
They had to get up at 5 a.m. the next morning, so study time ended by midnight.
The next day, Chen Bai, feeling energetic, sat in a row with his co-star, who played the third male lead. His co-star, always at the forefront of gossip, leaned over and whispered, “I heard that Xu Sinian came by yesterday.”
This news was circulating among a few film crews but hadn’t made it online yet. Apparently, someone had caught a glimpse of his car.
Those not in the industry only knew the commercial vehicle Xu usually used for work, but some people who had worked with him had seen his private car before and had a vague impression of it. Yesterday, someone saw it parked in the lot, which is how the news got out.
Chen Bai nodded and said, “He had something to take care of.”
His co-star thought that made sense, but after asking around, no one had heard about any event that had invited Xu Sinian.
Some speculated that it might be confidential, and that seemed logical.
Chen Bai agreed, thinking that his neighbor must have had business to attend to, which he probably finished before seeing him. Since Xu Sinian hadn’t mentioned it much, it was likely work that needed to be kept confidential.
His co-star leaned in even closer and whispered, “There’s another piece of gossip.”
The more careful someone is about a piece of gossip, the juicier it tends to be. Chen Bai perked up and listened intently.
The gossip was from a neighboring film crew. While their own crew was relatively peaceful, where the most common sight was the director scolding people or the writer cursing the director, things were far more dramatic next door.
The story had just broken yesterday afternoon. Apparently, the director and Actor A had hooked up, and the director wanted to give A more scenes, but the producer wouldn’t allow it. Then it came out that the reason the producer refused was that the additional scenes would come at the expense of Actor B, with whom the producer had also been involved. The two affairs had collided, creating quite a spectacle.
Chen Bai: “Wow.”
So that’s what he missed while sleeping soundly all afternoon.
Finally, his co-star motioned toward Zhou Jing, who was sitting nearby watching the lead actress and the second female lead film their scenes, and asked, “Do you think Zhou Jing has a thing for Sister Lin?”
Chen Bai: “Why do you think that?”
His co-star had a theory, “Zhou Jing usually sits by himself reading scripts during breaks, but lately he’s been watching Sister Lin a lot. Whenever he gets the chance, he looks at her. Maybe he’s developed feelings through the film.”
Chen Bai “?”
Chen Bai waved it off, “Probably not.”
His study buddy was likely just observing and learning. There was even a notebook hidden under the script.
His co-star squinted at him, “How do you know?”
Recalling how his study buddy just wanted to secretly improve, Chen Bai replied solemnly, “Just a guess.”
Co-star: “?”
Days in the film crew passed pretty similarly, with conversations during work, studying or live streaming in the evening.
Before long, Chen Bai met his newly appointed assistant.
Last time, he had only glanced at their resume during an outdoor shoot. Now they were directly joining the crew, which was impressively efficient.
After a friendly chat with the two new faces, he added both on WeChat. His male assistant was older than him and called Brother Liu, while the female assistant, Xiao Meng, was small but strong.
Gao Qian said that once the assistant was hired, she would sleep for three days straight, but she still couldn’t rest. She had to first familiarize the two assistants, especially the new one, with the environment and the routine operations of the crew, as well as some of Chen Bai’s habits.
Compared to other celebrities, Chen Bai was indeed low-maintenance. Besides the usual things like bringing water and scripts, the only must-remember task was to make sure to bring breakfast in the morning.
In short, he was easy to take care of.
Brother Liu had been in the industry for a while but was re-employed after the celebrity he worked with fell from grace, dragging down the company too. In simple terms, he had seen a lot. Xiao Meng, on the other hand, was new to the industry but had already done some preliminary research through various platforms. They both knew that many actors and celebrities are different in private, and they had mentally prepared themselves for that.
The person they were following this time was indeed different inside and out, but in another sense.
There are some people who don’t need to speak or move; just standing there, they are a sight to behold—a thin, cool, and aloof young man.
But as soon as he opened his mouth, the vibe instantly changed.
The manager had warned them from the start to bring extra bottles of water to the set. Initially, they thought it was because the actor drank a lot of water during performances, but they later realized that the extra water was meant for them.
—Because this guy could really talk.
Actors with heavy roles usually had a large workload, so during breaks, they would quietly rest or glance at their scripts, rarely talking due to fatigue.
But this one was different. Even when he was tired, he would talk, chatting with them while reading the script, even pulling in the third male lead for a group chat, until all four of them were chugging water non-stop.
In a physical sense, he was truly different inside and out.
Apart from the need to stay up late, wake up early, handle the crew’s busy schedule, and use up lots of water, this job was surprisingly good.
The only downside was that there hadn’t been any particularly juicy gossip recently. Most of the talk was about daily matters.
The third male lead usually relied on gossip to add some excitement to the otherwise monotonous workday. When there was no new information, his most frequent activity was sighing and saying he hoped for some fresh gossip to lift his spirits.
Chen Bai propped up his face and smiled slightly, “Where do you think so much gossip comes from for you to hear?”
As they sat there chatting, Zhou Jing passed by. His gaze swept over them, and he nodded slightly.
Chen Bai raised his hand and gave a small wave as a greeting.
The co-star asked, “Are you pretty familiar with Zhou Jing?”
Zhou Jing, like the lead actress Lin, didn’t usually interact much with other actors. It wasn’t that he was aloof; it was more that once you reach their level, you have to be cautious with every action, so it was hard to tell who they were actually close to.
If studying together at night counted as being close, Chen Bai nodded and said yes.
The co-star made a curious noise. The two assistants, hearing this for the first time, also glanced over at the person who had already left.
In the evening, after finishing filming, it was time to hit the books.
Back in his room, Chen Bai took a shower, then with a towel on his head, he opened his laptop. Just as he was about to start, there was a knock at the door, so he turned and went to open it.
At the sound of the knock, two figures exited the elevator at the other end of the hallway.
“I told you we shouldn’t have brought so much stuff today… Wait, did you press the wrong floor? I told you, after sleeping too much yesterday, your brain’s still not clear…”
“Shh, stop talking.”
The two walked out of the elevator and kept walking forward, not paying attention to the floor number. Only after stepping out did they realize that the surroundings looked different from their own floor. One of them was about to turn back when the other covered his mouth and pulled him to hide behind a wall.
Caught off guard by the action, the person being pulled stayed quiet, though he hadn’t fully processed what was happening.
The other person gestured for him to look down the hallway, and he did.
There was someone in the hallway, someone very familiar, someone they often saw online—it was Zhou Jing.
Unexpectedly, they had come to the wrong floor but coincidentally ran into someone they usually didn’t get to see.
Just as one of them was about to speak, a quiet ‘click’ was heard, and the door opened. A pink-haired guy, towel on his head, appeared in their line of sight.
He also looked familiar—they had heard people talking about him before.
Then they heard him say, as he closed the door, “We have to get up early tomorrow, so let’s wrap up by one tonight.”
Zhou Jing agreed, entered the room, and the door closed behind him.
‘…’
By the elevator, one of them instinctively put away his phone and exchanged a shocked look with the other. They could both see the surprise in each other’s eyes.
Staying there any longer would only attract the hotel security’s attention, so the two put their phones away and got back in the elevator.
At one in the morning, the video session ended, and after writing down the last note, Zhou Jing stood up to leave.
Chen Bai, sitting on the bed, only yawned and waved goodbye without any intention of getting up.
Zhou Jing was used to it by now.
At first, this guy would at least politely walk him to the door, but now just saying goodbye was already considered courteous.
After his study partner left, Chen Bai planned to reorganize the somewhat scattered notes he had jotted down.
He had barely started when the gray-haired guy reappeared, looking unwell, and said:
“I don’t think we’ll be able to sleep early tonight.”
Chen Bai paused with his pen in hand and looked up slightly.
Zhou Jing explained that as he was opening the door, he saw someone at the end of the hallway taking pictures with a phone. The person ran away as soon as they were noticed, and judging by the distance and speed, it was unlikely to catch them.
That person, or perhaps there was more than one, was able to take pictures at this time, which meant they knew Zhou Jing would be leaving the room at that moment. It was possible they had been photographed much earlier.
Spending several hours in a room together late at night, even if nothing happened, would be hard to explain.
Recently, online opinion had been somewhat unfavorable toward Zhou Jing, and the other person was a newcomer who had just entered the industry and hadn’t yet built a solid fan base. The circumstances weren’t ideal.
After listening quietly, Chen Bai’s first thought was that his co-star would finally have some gossip to talk about tomorrow.
“He put down the notebook in his hand, casually placed the pen behind his ear, stood up, and began dismantling the live streaming equipment on the desk. He didn’t seem too panicked and turned his head to ask, “If we have evidence to explain everything, will it be fine?”
Zhou Jing’s expression shifted slightly, and he said yes.
This person was surprisingly calm.
If Zhou Jing remembered correctly, this should be his first time encountering something like this.
“Then there’s no problem,” Chen Bai smiled, opened the drawer, and placed the dismantled equipment inside, “but it seems like you won’t be able to secretly study anymore without others finding out.”
About ten minutes later, the managers from both sides gathered for a friendly meeting.
In the small room, many people stood around. Chen Bai sat on the chair in front of the computer. He navigated from the study page back to the homepage, found the contact administrator option, typed a command, and half a minute later, all the study data from this device during that period—including course video watch times, durations, and any pauses—was sent over, all clear and detailed.
Paired with the notes they had taken, the evidence was irrefutable.
When the managers received the call, they nearly had heart attacks, thinking it was yet another dreaded scandal with photographic proof, the kind every industry insider fears. But it turned out to be a “caught in the act” moment of two people secretly studying late at night.
The truth was they were studying. Both sides were innocent, and the evidence was all there. The managers had never fought such a well-prepared battle before.
At 1 a.m., while night owls were still very much active, a video was quietly released.
The video was posted by a long-time blogger who chased celebrities, amassing quite a fanbase over the years, bringing a fair amount of traffic.
The video was posted suddenly, and to avoid being discovered by relevant industry insiders right away, there were no keywords, just a brief caption: [Here’s some tea].
The video was a combination of two phone-recorded clips, with the phone’s built-in timestamp visible. The first clip was from 10 p.m., showing Pink Hair opening the door for someone standing in the hallway. Because the phone’s microphone was good and the hallway was quiet, you could faintly hear what Chen Bai was saying.
The second clip was filmed at 1 a.m., capturing the person who had entered the room earlier coming out again. As they closed the door, they turned around and noticed the camera.
After that, the footage turned chaotic as the person filming frantically ran, and the video ended.
The phone’s resolution was clear, and both individuals were filmed quite distinctly. It was obvious they were Zhou Jing, who had recently been involved in a public controversy, and a newcomer who had twice trended online.
The blogger didn’t add any keywords or personal opinions but left a cryptic comment in the thread: [Those who know, know.]
The first wave of night owls who arrived responded with “Whoa, this is wild!” and the video was quickly and widely shared.
[Front row, let me just say, incredible.]
[Where are Zhou Jing’s fans? When he was being criticized before, you all were so indignant, saying he was just working hard. Is this what you mean by working hard?]
[No, please! I just went to the filming set and started liking Chen Bai!]
[I’m waiting to see how Zhou Jing’s company explains this one. They’ll probably respond in the morning since they need time to come up with an excuse.]
[Male lead sneaking into male supporting actor’s room at night? The director must be fuming, and I feel bad for sister Lin too.]
[What an unexpected pairing. The director probably won’t be able to sleep tonight.]
[@Zhou Jing, if you’re up and can’t sleep, why not stay up and explain what’s going on?]
Within less than an hour, the video went viral and shot up the trending charts.
It was a tricky situation, with a massive influx of people flooding the comment sections of the two individuals in the video, constantly tagging them and demanding an explanation.
Though they were asking for an explanation, everyone knew there wouldn’t be an immediate response. Tagging them was just for fun, while the real goal was to mock them for not owning up to what they’d done.
The comments section was flooded, with the follower count fluctuating wildly before starting to rise again in a bizarre turn of events.
However, most of the people paying attention at this point weren’t there with positive intentions.
As the hype kept building and rumors began to distort and exaggerate the story, people claiming to be insiders also jumped in, stirring the pot and making things worse.
Just when everyone thought there wouldn’t be a response, the two accounts updated their statuses back-to-back amidst the storm.
The first to post was Zhou Jing. He personally logged in, and his post included text, pictures, and videos, clearly and thoroughly laying out the timeline and evidence.
He first denied the misleading relationship suggested by the video blogger and stated that the two were simply study partners. He then explained the entire situation. The images included screenshots of study information from his computer and pictures of their notes.
The last entry in the study information was from today, and the timestamps matched exactly with the timestamps from the blogger’s video.
The notes were photos of both of their study notes. There were so many that they had to stitch several images together into one large picture. Zooming in, you could see the dates on the notes, which matched the study information, and even included later reflections on how they applied what they learned to actual filming.
These were things no one could fabricate, and it wasn’t something that could be faked in just an hour or so.
The video showed Chen Bai pulling up the study information. The camera was slightly angled up, so you couldn’t see his hands or the keyboard, but you could hear the typing sounds.
As he was searching, he even helpfully explained, “This information is linked to the account and device, and you can also check the device’s IP address. I’m using the IP assigned to this hotel room, so it should be traceable.”
The person standing next to him asked, “How do you know all this?”
Chen Bai laughed humbly and waved his hand, “I sneaked into the student group of this school before…”
He turned around, clearly ready to start rambling again, but the manager reacted quickly, spun his chair back toward the computer screen, and forcibly cut him off mid-spiel.
While Chen Bai and his manager were engaged in a literal two-person spinning act, Zhou Jing’s manager glanced over at the notebook and asked, “Where did you get this? It looks pretty high-quality.”
Zhou Jing calmly and quietly looked at Chen Bai and said, “He sold it to me for eight yuan and ninety-one cents, not even a single cent off.”
The people around, along with Pink Hair’s manager, looked on in disbelief. The person recording the video carefully reminded them that they were still filming. Chen Bai stood up, leaning on his chair, trying to say something, but his manager pushed him back down, creating a moment of chaos.
The video ended amid this chaos.
After watching the video, the audience was left speechless: “…”
Of all the key points, what stuck in the viewers’ minds was just ‘eight yuan and ninety-one cents, not even a cent off’.
*
Author’s Note:
Chen Er Bai, who won’t earn even spare one extra cent (?)
—
