Chapter 47: The White-Haired One Appears!
The manager was semi-conscious, reaching out to press the elevator button, saying they should go say hello.
Chen Bai quickly stopped her. “He’s already resting, let’s do it tomorrow.”
Whether the friend was resting or not didn’t matter—the point was to end the conversation here.
Even if he hadn’t stopped her, the manager’s hand only made it halfway to the button before she let it drop on her own.
The elevator ride was full of little interruptions, but eventually, they arrived safely.
Chen Bai opened the front door, turned on the lights in the living room and hallway, and dragged everyone into the house.
The manager, whose mind seemed to be working a little, made a comment: “This place is much better than your old one.”
It was indeed better, but still not enough to accommodate everyone.
There was no way they could all sleep in the same bed. The only sleeping arrangements available were the master bedroom, and Chen Bai managed to quickly tidy up a guest bedroom where the manager and assistant Xiao Meng could sleep. He and Brother Liu would sleep on the couch.
Since they all reeked of alcohol, they couldn’t sleep in the usual beds, not even Chen Bai himself. With a sense of responsibility, Chen Bai, who had a few drunkards to care for, decided not to shower. Instead, he lay on the couch with the others to keep an eye on things in case anything happened while he was washing up.
Fortunately, the couch was large enough. One person lay across it, while the other lay lengthwise, just enough room for him and Brother Liu.
It was a hot night in September, so there was no need for air conditioning or blankets; they could make it through the night comfortably.
With everyone settled and the lights dimmed except for a small nightlight, Chen Bai, exhausted from the day’s events, finally lay down in peace.
Lying down didn’t mean falling asleep right away, though. He shifted slightly on the couch, and his phone buzzed with a message.
It was from the good neighbor he had previously mentioned was already asleep. The message asked if Chen Bai had made it home.
Only then did the busy Chen Bai remember that he’d forgotten to let his good neighbor know he’d arrived safely. He quickly raised his hand to type out a reply: [I’m home, feeling great], attaching a salute emoji, and casually recounted his heroic efforts of wrangling three drunkards and settling them down.
As expected, the neighbor praised him, then asked if there was anything else he could help with.
Chen Bai didn’t need any help. His only wishes were that Brother Liu wouldn’t snore that night and that none of the three drunks would throw up in his house.
The neighbor wished him well and told him to call if anything happened during the night.
Feeling reassured by his thoughtful neighbor, Chen Bai put down his phone and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.
His two wishes came true that night.
Even though his manager and assistant were all drunk, they were polite drunks. No one snored, and no one got sick, maintaining a clean and tidy environment.
As usual, Chen Bai was the first to wake up the next morning, roused by his internal clock.
He woke up at six, but went back to sleep for a while. When he woke again at nine, the three people on the living room couch and in the guest room were still sleeping.
Without disturbing anyone, he got up from the couch and went to wash up, taking a shower as well.
After a shower and a quick towel-dry of his hair, he felt completely refreshed.
By the time he finished, the others were slowly waking up, though it took them a moment to realize where they were.
They were awake, but couldn’t muster the strength to get up, their bodies still weighed down in bed. As they squirmed and struggled, Chen Bai, looking fresh and bright, was already checking his phone.
His neighbor, as if attuned to his routine, had just sent him a message. After glancing at it, Chen Bai turned to the three half-awake drunks and asked, “Want breakfast?”
Then he added, “My friend is getting breakfast, he can grab a few extra portions.”
The manager, still half-asleep, managed to drag herself up but immediately collapsed back onto the living room couch, asking, “We get some too?”
Obviously, that was a silly question—something she’d never ask when sober. Chen Bai patiently nodded and confirmed, “Yes, you do.”
Skipping a meal would be a waste, so they all signed up for breakfast.
Chen Bai sent his response back on his phone.
While waiting for breakfast, the group slowly forced themselves up to wash and freshen up.
Luckily, Chen Bai had previously bought enough disposable toiletries, enough for everyone, so there was no need to spend extra. He handed them out to the group.
By this time, the drunks had mostly sobered up and could move around on their own. After watching them for a bit, Chen Bai greeted them and went downstairs to meet his lovely, breakfast-bearing neighbor.
He went downstairs just in time to meet his neighbor, who was carrying breakfast bags at the entrance. Chen Bai helped him with a small bag containing a few cups of soy milk.
The soy milk wasn’t heavy, and he easily carried it up the elevator. Glancing at the two paper bags of breakfast his neighbor was holding, Chen Bai felt like this thoughtful neighbor was practically glowing with divine light at that moment.
The breakfast was heavy, but Comrade Old Xu, glowing with divine light, didn’t let Chen Bai carry it and brought it directly into the house for him.
When they reached his floor, Chen Bai pulled out his keys, opened the door, and switched to slippers as they entered. From the hallway to the living room, Chen Bai didn’t see the people who had been lying on the couch earlier, assuming they had all gone to freshen up.
He took off his hat, placed the soy milk on the table, and turned to take the breakfast bag from his good neighbor. The moment he grabbed the bag, it felt surprisingly heavy. The bag thudded as it landed firmly on the table.
“… Wow, that’s really heavy.”
He turned to his neighbor, who had casually placed the bag on the table, and asked in disbelief, “Did you put bricks in here?”
It wasn’t bricks, but close enough. When they opened the bag, it was full of stacked, pre-packed insulated containers.
“Is Chen Bai back?”
Hearing some noise, the manager, toothbrush in mouth, came out from the bathroom, rubbing her hair. Her eyes first landed, not on the familiar face she expected, but on a man dressed in a simple black t-shirt, wearing a hat and a mask. His muscular arm was clearly visible, looking as if it could punch ten Chen Bai into the air.
She also noticed a familiar watch on his wrist—the same one that had once been carefully placed in her care like a treasured item some time ago.
Standing behind this tall figure, who seemed capable of tossing ten people like Chen Bai, emerged Chen Bai himself. He introduced, “This is my friend.”
Even without the introduction, the manager had already figured it out.
Pausing in her task of messing with her hair, the manager quickly rinsed her mouth and returned to the living room as a fully groomed, professional woman.
Chen Bai then introduced, “This is my manager, also a friend.”
The manager nodded and, in a brief but polite tone, said, “Hi, I’m Gao Qian.” (Sounding like “Making Money” in Chinese.)
“Hello.”
The friend took off his mask, nodded slightly, and said, “Xu Sinian.”
His voice was unexpectedly pleasant.
Gao Qian “…”
The manager blinked. “Hmm?”
Xu… what Nian?
The man stood there with features that were more defined than most people’s—sharp brows, a tall nose, and an air of coldness naturally etched into his expression.
A handsome man. A ridiculously familiar-looking, very handsome man.
For the first time in her life, the manager almost let out an uncivilized sound of surprise.
It was early morning, but the fogginess from her hangover suddenly cleared up entirely.
She glanced at the man and then at Chen Bai, who was already busy taking out the insulated containers from the bag. Her brows twitched as past memories became crystal clear.
Hanging out with a friend, a friend’s coat, that celebration dinner when a “friend” came to pick him up, a trip to Z City with a friend, a friend’s hat.
So, all these “friends” had actually been Xu Sinian.
All those things she thought were coincidences suddenly came together.
No wonder, back when he was filming ‘Ask Fate’, he’d mentioned a friend coming to visit, and the next day, rumors spread that Xu Sinian had visited the film set.
No wonder his “friend’s” things were always so expensive.
Turns out the person he had posed with in front of a movie poster wasn’t because he was a fan—it was simply because he liked his friend.
And over a month ago, when Chen Bai said he was going to Z City with Xu Sinian, it wasn’t some fan’s wild fantasy—it was just a simple statement of fact.
No wonder that photo his friend took for him had looked so abstract.
Now that she realized it was taken by this person, everything made sense.
Gao Qian “…”
The manager rubbed her face.
It was her fault.
She had always known that Chen Bai was oblivious when it came to certain things and should have asked earlier who exactly this “friend” was.
The ever-oblivious Chen Bai was still carefully taking out insulated containers from the bag. He turned and asked, “Is brother Liu up yet?”
The manager turned to go and call for him.
When she returned from the bathroom, brother Liu and Xiao Meng also noticed the extra person in the room and paused mid-step.
On a completely ordinary morning, they had unexpectedly met the elusive movie star outside of work and were now about to eat breakfast brought by him.
A very good breakfast, one that left their minds temporarily blank.
After eating, there was no rush to leave. The three, still recovering from their hangovers, needed some time to recover and sat down on the couch.
Diligent as ever, Chen Bai gathered up water cups to serve everyone. After some effort, he managed to find a few, washed them, and handed them out.
Today, Chen Bai wasn’t wearing his wrist guards. The sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt slid down as he washed, prompting him to call out, “Little Xu, come here.”
When there was work to be done, Xu Sinian became “Little Xu.”
Little Xu immediately came over and instinctively rolled up Chen Bai’s sleeves for him.
“…”
These two really had a close relationship, in every possible sense.
After breakfast and a short rest, the two assistants finally regained enough energy to walk normally and, despite their reluctance to leave, said their goodbyes and left without asking to be sent off.
Xu Sinian, who had only come to deliver breakfast, had some other things to do and left shortly after the assistants.
The manager watched as they left, her mind now sharp from the stimulating events of this supposedly ordinary morning. She finally got down to business.
At least, she had intended to. But the moment her gaze met Chen Bai’s, she couldn’t help but rub her face again and say, “You have a really wide social circle.”
Master socialite Chen Bai ruffled his messy hair and modestly agreed.
The manager eyed him and added, “At this point, I’d believe you if you told me you knew Huo Chuan.”
To which Chen Bai held up his fingers, indicating a small distance, and said, “I do, but not well.”
They had just met a few days ago over lunch during a break.
The manager, exasperated, smacked him on the head.
Even when it came to people who were barely connected, Chen Bai would claim to know them.
Letting out a laugh, her mind now fully awake, she took a sip of water and finally got to the real business at hand.
For now, she hadn’t accepted any scripts—partly because nothing suitable had come up, and partly because they were waiting for ‘Ask Fate’ to air.
Almost a quarter has passed since ‘Ask Fate’ was edited and entered review. It’s essentially set for release, with the promotional period likely to begin this month, followed by an official launch about a month later.
Unlike ‘Ordinary Road’, in this drama, Chen Bai plays a major supporting role, a second male lead, which is a significant upgrade from being a key supporting actor. If all goes well after ‘Ask Fate’ is released, his career will likely take a step up.
Skill determines salary, and fame and ability are both forms of skill. After ‘Ask Fate’ is released, there’s no doubt that his pay will increase. Chen Bai’s agent knew this, and so did other producers and directors. That’s why they sent over scripts now, offering fairly competitive roles for second male leads, hoping to sign him before ‘Ask Fate’ is released and his value rises, locking in a high-value actor at a lower price.
If the script was good, it wasn’t out of the question, but most of them were not. The characters were repetitive and too similar to roles he had previously played, which would limit his range and affect his long-term earnings.
Chen Bai nodded and asked about his upcoming schedule, trusting the agent’s judgment on professional matters.
The agent flipped through her phone and checked her notes. “You can rest for the next few days. There’s a party in about a week… You can stick to your juice, and I’ll handle everything else. After mid-month, we’ll start promotions for ‘Ask Fate’, and the night before the premiere, there’s a livestream you’ll need to participate in.”
In other words, Chen Bai had quite a bit of free time this month. He nodded again, pleased, and started planning his side gigs.
“One more thing,” the agent said, looking up, “Do you play any games besides the one you were playing during the filming?”
Chen Bai said he didn’t play many, and then asked, “Why do you ask?”
If he had to name one, he occasionally played Ludo.
The agent mentioned the name of a game and switched her phone screen to a search page, adding, “Even if you haven’t played it, you’ve probably heard of it.”
It was a team-based game, with two teams battling against each other. Game streamer Chen Er Bai had definitely heard of it—lots of big channels streamed it, and it was as popular as the game he was currently playing.
In simple terms, it was the game’s 15th anniversary, and the domestic publisher wanted to celebrate in style. After planning for a long time, they reached out to ask if he’d be interested in portraying one of the game’s characters.
The role was an archer, one of the original characters from the game. Judging by the photo, it was an objectively handsome white-haired character.
The publisher had deep pockets and offered a generous sum, with room for negotiation.
The agent reminded him, “Do you remember the horseback riding scene from ‘Ask Fate’?”
At the time, the third male lead had been riding the horse, but Chen Bai had taken a short ride to get a feel for it. While the crew generally forbade taking photos on set, some sneaky shots were still taken. That horseback scene had been captured and circulated, though the production team managed to contain it before it spread too widely.
It didn’t spread much, but the publisher saw it and thought his demeanor, especially when silent, matched the character’s energy. So, after checking his availability, they sent the invitation.
If the price was raised, they could afford a more famous celebrity, but none of those actors fit the character as well. Since the character already had a large fanbase, casting someone who didn’t match the original look could stir controversy, making it not worth the risk.
Chen Bai considered it, and the agent quoted a six-figure offer.
That was just the opening offer, with room for more negotiation.
The upside was the money. The only thing to watch out for was the potential backlash if his portrayal didn’t meet fans’ expectations. But the publisher was more concerned about that than they were. If they thought it would work, then there probably wouldn’t be any issues.
Chen Bai kept it brief: “Let’s try.”
The agent had expected this response. She put away her phone and said, “I’ll follow up in the next few days. If you have time, try playing the game to get a feel for the character. If not, just read up on their backstory.”
She glanced at his messy hair and added, “Oh, and about the hair color—you’re aware, right?”
Chen Bai quickly gave her an “OK” sign.
As long as the money was good, the hair color wasn’t a problem.
With everything settled, the agent got up, planning to head home, shower, put on some makeup, and then go talk the publisher into paying up even more.
Chen Bai saw off his agent, who was excellent at “making money.”
Once everyone had left and he was alone in the apartment again, diligent Chen Bai stood at the entrance for a while before deciding to clean up the place a bit.
The three drunk people had been very polite, so there wasn’t much to clean—just changing the sheets and a quick mop.
The bright sunlight filtered through the windows, gently stirring the sheer curtains. The washing machine hummed on the balcony, filling the air with the fresh scents of laundry detergent and sunlight.
While the washing machine was running, Chen Bai went to the master bedroom, turned on his computer, and went to the game’s official website to download it.
Luckily, his computer had good specs and could handle any game.
The game was large, requiring some time to download, so after seeing the estimated time, he flopped onto the bed and opened his long-neglected Weibo account.
After confirming he was logged into his “Chen Er Bai” account, he skillfully posted a livestream notification.
This account was almost like a ghost—it had very few updates, and the content was always pretty much the same. Yet, the comment section was quite lively.
He didn’t check the comments on his own account much, as every time he did, he was bombarded with “husband” and “wife” messages. After a few attempts, he gave up and rarely ventured into that comment section. But this Chen Er Bai’s account comments, he’d occasionally glance at.
As soon as he posted the livestream notice, comments started appearing below.
[Chen Er Bai, you actually remember to come back! (Open the door) (Yell) (Tears)]
[WTF, streaming from 2 PM to nightfall, starving yourself all day just to feast at the end.]
[Er Bai, bro, let’s make a deal. Could you at least attach a picture when you post something? A notification with less than 10 words looks pretty bare (pointing fingers).]
Chen Bai rolled over in bed and noticed a new comment. Ever the one to take advice, he tried to attach a picture from his gallery in the comment section. However, he quickly discovered that posting images in comments was a feature only available to members. Without hesitation, he gave up and simply replied, “Next time for sure.”
The comments kept rolling in, but he didn’t continue reading them. Instead, he switched screens to figure out how to play the new game.
Back in high school, a friend had tried to get him into this game, promising to teach him everything. He wasn’t interested back then and declined, which meant he now had to learn it from scratch. After watching a few tutorials, he still didn’t quite grasp the game mechanics. Once the sheets were done in the washing machine, he put his phone down and went to hang them out to dry.
By the time he finished with the laundry, it was nearly 2 PM—perfect timing for diligent Chen Bai to transform into “Chen Er Bai” and start his livestream.
Streaming on a weekday afternoon, the majority of viewers were working people sneaking in a stream at their desks. From 2 PM until evening, he made do with two buns and some fruit for dinner. At the end of the stream, as usual, he quickly exited the game. But unlike other days, he didn’t immediately launch into his usual closing lines. Instead, he returned to the desktop and hovered his mouse over a new game, saying, “Let’s try out this new one.”
The chat reacted instantly:
[? You faked us out, good thing I’m naturally cautious.]
[You’re finally playing this game too! Is Chen Er Bai exploring a new direction?]
[Phew, I almost closed the stream—lucky for me, my internet was slow!]
[No wonder today you only matched the game’s general region, not the exact channel.]
Switching games surprisingly didn’t cause many viewers to leave the stream. Most of the remaining audience seemed to be driven by curiosity, eager to see how well he would play. After glancing at the chat, Chen Bai said, “This isn’t a new direction, I’m just playing it for fun. I probably won’t play much after this.”
He added, “As you can see, I haven’t even registered an account yet.”
[No worries, we’ll teach you!]
[Relax, with us here, you’re guaranteed ten straight wins tonight!]
[Chen Er Bai’s skills combined with our strategy, victory is certain!]
That night, with the guidance of enthusiastic viewers, Chen Bai—newly registered—suffered five consecutive losses in a bronze-tier game. He felt like he’d been duped, as those who had promised, “Leave the game to us,” were laughing harder than anyone else after every defeat. The chat was flooded with so many “hahaha”s that they nearly spilled off the screen.
And just like that, the fragile trust between people shattered. Frustrated, Chen Bai downed half a cup of black coffee, and finally, late into the night, managed to win a game on his own. Satisfied, he ended the stream.
His “money-making partner” was impressively efficient. Within a few days, they had reached the contract stage, and the matter of dyeing his hair white was brought up. Since there was a noticeable difference between wearing a wig and dyeing real hair, and with the publisher willing to pay more, Chen Bai professionally agreed to all the arrangements. He even informed his friendly neighbor about the upcoming change.
He told his neighbor after they’d had dinner together. The neighbor stared at him for a moment before looking away and saying, “It should suit you.”
Chen Bai nodded, “Of course.”
Then he chuckled and added, “Once I’ve transformed into the cool guy, I’ll send the first picture to Comrade Old Xu.”
Lao Xu responded with a simple “Hmm.” After a brief pause, he turned slightly and asked, “The first one?”
His expression didn’t change; he asked casually, “Anyone else?”
Chen Bai first tried counting on his fingers, then gave up, ruffling his hair with a smile. “Quite a few.”
—
*Author’s Note:*
The Social Butterfly’s Self-Cultivation
