The Stand-in Side Character Only Wants to Make Money – CH58

Chapter 58: Boyfriend

The white gauze covered his eyes, and his long white hair flowed down, stirred by the wind. Dappled light filtered through the leaves of the trees, falling onto the tips of his snow-white hair.

Like snow in February, the warm light couldn’t melt away the cold aura that easily seeped into people’s pupils.

The wind rustled through the surroundings, and the leaves of the trees in the courtyard made a rustling sound that reached the ears, causing the eardrums to tremble.

Chu Mingyuan sat still, his gaze fixed on the sight, his pupils slightly shifting.

Chu Mingyuan “…”

As he crossed the stone threshold, Chen Bai was still being guided by his manager as they walked across the small bridge in the courtyard.

To be precise, it wasn’t exactly guiding; it was more like restraining. The manager held onto his arm with one hand and gently wiped the sweat from her forehead with the other.

As soon as he got out of the car, he had wanted to find Qian Jin, as he could see the path clearly and was about to bolt away like a cannonball. Fortunately, she was quick-witted and managed to pull him back.

It was indeed the right decision for her to personally accompany him instead of sending an assistant.

If she hadn’t been familiar with him and hadn’t reacted quickly, he would have vanished the moment he got out of the car.

With his manager holding him back, Chen Bai could only walk slowly alongside her.

He wasn’t the one seeking out his friend; rather, it was his friend who had come to find him. Qian Jin had even thoughtfully brought a small stool for him, which was very considerate.

He graciously sat down on the small stool that his friend had brought.

Finally seated steadily, the manager wiped her sweat and let out a sigh of relief as the assistant handed her a tissue.

Once everyone was settled, Qian Jin also sat down beside him and asked, “What do you think this situation resembles right now?”

Hearing that question made Chen Bai realize he had something to say. He turned his gaze slightly, but could only see a blurred figure, so he returned his gaze and encouragingly said, “Please go on.”

“Like in that story,” Qian Jin said, “where the evil landlord bullies the poor beggar, but then the beggar suddenly becomes rich, and the evil landlord ends up in tears, trying to curry favor.”

The tale of the evil landlord and the poor beggar somehow continued to unfold, becoming bizarre yet oddly reasonable. Chen Bai objectively suggested, “You should become a screenwriter.”

The evil landlord thought that was a good idea. After a brief pause, he said, “I’ll go study screenwriting, and when I’m done, I’ll have my dad buy a show for me to try out.”

Just your typical down-to-earth rich kid.

Chen Bai: “Sounds good.”

Skipping over the evil landlord topic for the moment, he asked, “How far along are they now?”

Knowing he was asking about the filming progress, Qian Jin replied, “It’s still early. Chu Mingyuan has two more scenes left, then it’ll be your turn.”

Chen Bai nodded—indeed, it was still early.

Qian Jin, curious, asked again, “Can you see the way? Do you need the evil landlord’s help to guide you?”

Chen Bai smiled, resting his face on his hand, “I can see just fine. Without the evil landlord’s help, you should just brace yourself for the poor beggar’s revenge.”

Qian Jin, gave him a longer look, patting his straight chest as he remarked, “Good thing I’m straight.”

If he were anything but straight, he figured falling for someone like Chen Bai would mean years of not being able to move on.

After almost two months of working together, Qian Jin had fully grasped Chen Bai’s commitment to solitude. With a slightly complicated feeling, he remarked, “I feel sorry for anyone who likes you.”

Chen Bai tapped his cheek lightly with his fingers, saying casually, “There’s someone?”

It seemed he was naturally immune to such matters. The last time anyone confessed to him was back in high school, and while people in the comments section still called him “husband” or “wife,” it was all in jest.

His attitude was so earnest and sincere that Qian Jin glanced at him again, sighed, and said, “I really do pity them.”

The quiet assistant nearby nodded in agreement.

They sat under the shade of a tree for most of the afternoon. Chu Mingyuan was quick on set, often finishing scenes in one take. After two scenes wrapped up, the director came over, bringing his own small stool and sitting down with them.

Since the actor couldn’t see well, the director came over himself during the break to discuss his thoughts and expectations for the next scene.

This upcoming scene was one of the most crucial ones.

Earlier in the plot, when they had discovered where the disgraced minister’s son was hiding, there was a confrontation between the swordsman and the knife-wielder. The disgraced minister’s son had escaped beforehand, disguising himself and using his family’s wealth to become an honored guest of the city lord, now protected inside the city lord’s mansion.

After the swordsman and knife-wielder’s clash, with some intervention from the messenger and various circumstances, they ended up working together again.

Their mission this time was to infiltrate the city lord’s mansion. With the messenger’s help, they assumed new identities as hidden martial arts masters and safely entered the mansion. They were soon invited to join a small banquet for the city lord’s esteemed guests.

The fight scenes would be filmed later; today was focused on the dialogue-heavy scenes, which, while not physically taxing, were no less challenging.

Chen Bai listened attentively, nodding occasionally to show he understood.

He had good comprehension skills—nothing needed to be explained twice. After the director finished talking, he picked up his stool and went to discuss the scene with Chu Mingyuan.

As the time for the scene approached, the stylist came over to adjust Chen Bai’s hair and clothes. After confirming everything was in order, she gave a final nod.

Even though Chen Bai could technically see the way, he still had his agent guide him to the set. Once in position next to Chu Mingyuan, his agent left but not without reminding him to stay put after the scene ended and not wander around.

The ground was littered with equipment wires, and the surface was uneven. With the cloth covering his eyes, it was difficult to see clearly, and moving around could easily lead to accidents.

Chen Bai nodded and agreed.

The faster he nodded and agreed, the more his agent worried. Glancing back three times as he left, the agent stood by with the assistant, keeping a watchful eye on the situation, ready for anything.

Even though Chen Bai couldn’t see them, he could clearly feel their eyes on him. He turned to his colleague and asked, “Are they watching me?”

The colleague confirmed, “Yes.”

Feeling no warmth of trust between them, Chen Bai sighed regretfully, took two steps forward to crouch in a corner, and lamented, “They really don’t trust me.”

“…”

Those two steps were taken so smoothly and confidently that Chu Mingyuan thought perhaps the agent’s concerns weren’t unfounded.

Luckily, Chen Bai knew when to behave. Aside from those two nerve-wracking steps, he stayed put before filming began, crouched quietly as shadows of people moved around him.

The ever-dignified Film Emperor Chu crouched down beside him. The two of them squatted together until the director called for the scene to begin.

This scene took place after the small banquet had started, and the swordsman and knife-wielder had gone through some minor hurdles, successfully taking their seats at the banquet.

The city lord enjoyed new faces and stories, so the banquet was filled with guests from all over, lavishly spread out, with a bustling and lively atmosphere.

Amidst the lively crowd, the city lord suddenly spoke up, expressing a desire to see the skills of his two new guests.

The other guests joined in, encouraging the idea with cheers, saying they also wanted to see.

They hadn’t yet located the disgraced minister’s son hiding in the mansion, and so as to not ruin the plan, the knife-wielder quickly stood up after only a moment’s thought.

As he stood and others began to cheer, the city lord took a drink from his cup and then stated that he wanted to see the other guest’s skills instead.

The other guest was the swordsman, who was visibly and unquestionably blind.

The room seemed to go quiet for a moment, the clinking of cups suddenly amplified in the silence.

Holding his wine cup, the city lord didn’t take back his request.

Under the watchful eyes of everyone present, the blind swordsman stood up.

Though blind and unable to see, and without anything to guide him, he walked as though unhindered, smoothly making his way around the crowd, climbing the steps to the city lord’s platform, and standing tall at its center.

The city lord, using a respectful tone, asked the swordsman what his expertise was.

The swordsman replied, “The sword.”

His words were as brief as always, and since he only spoke a single word, the others didn’t notice anything unusual about his tone.

The city lord then had a guard step forward and hand him a sword.

It was an ordinary longsword, sharpened. The swordsman took hold of it.

Though silent and few with words, once he gripped the sword, his whole demeanor changed. The change was subtle, difficult to describe, but one could sense something different about him.

Noticing this, the people below the platform grew interested, leaning forward to watch more closely, even the knife-wielder glanced over.

Though they had traveled together for days, no one had ever seen the swordsman actually use his sword, and the blade wrapped in tattered cloth had never been drawn.

The wind stirred the leaves, and a wine cup clinked as it landed on the table.

The hem of the swordsman’s robe fluttered slightly, and his hand gripping the sword hilt rose just a little.

“…”

Clang—

In the midst of the silence, the sound that rang out was the sword falling to the ground.

Those hands, long incapable of holding a sword, ultimately could not keep their grip. Pale fingers tightened and then released, letting the hilt slip from his grasp.

Now, the silence was absolute. The city lord’s hand, holding the wine cup, froze. The people below the platform didn’t know how to react, and the knife-wielder quietly gripped the hidden curved blade under the table.

A so-called hidden master who couldn’t even hold a sword—realizing he had been deceived, the city lord stood up abruptly. Guards advanced, and the guests were thrown into chaos.

…

The following parts were fight scenes, but they were postponed for another time. For now, the scene was over.

The director called “cut,” and the tense atmosphere immediately eased. The crew began to move around, and makeup artists wandered through the crowd, looking for anyone in need of touch-ups.

Chen Bai stood on the platform, watching people move to and fro. Remembering his partner’s repeated warnings earlier, he stayed in place without moving, but then he heard a voice calling from not far below.

It was his agent’s voice, calling his name. He could tell she was shouting as loud as she could, but her voice was drowned out by the surrounding noise, making it hard to hear what she was saying.

Since he couldn’t hear clearly, he decided to get closer. Thinking it might be urgent, he pulled back the foot he’d been about to place on the staircase and instead turned toward the edge of the platform.

He squinted through the sheer fabric of his blindfold, glanced down briefly, and without much hesitation, leaped straight off.

The people nearby barely had time to react, only catching a glimpse of a white figure darting past the edges of their vision. By the time they turned to look again, he was already midair.

His white robe billowed as he soared through the air, the sound of wind rushing past him. Those looking up from below saw only the fluttering white robes and silver hair.

Chu Mingyuan stood not far away, alongside the agent and assistants who had rushed forward. Noticing the sudden shift in people’s gazes, he turned his head, and immediately saw a figure seemingly falling from the platform.

His eyes widened, and before his brain could catch up, he had already turned and quickly crossed several steps in a few strides. The sounds and figures around him blurred.

Even so, he was still a step too slow.

He heard the soft rustle of fabric as the figure landed gracefully just a step ahead of him, his robe brushing the ground. Rising smoothly, the person stood up straight, noticed him, and casually pushed the loose strands of hair back behind his head. Squinting, he tentatively called out, “Sister Qian?”

“…”

He truly hadn’t seen clearly.

“I’m over here!”

In just those brief moments, Gao Qian and two assistants rushed over. She manually adjusted Chen Bai’s head, turning him to face her before releasing him and taking a couple of deep breaths.

After catching her breath, she looked over at the mistaken “Sister Qian” and nodded politely.

The “fake sister Qian” froze for a moment, then also nodded in return before quietly excusing herself.

Finally facing the real Gao Qian, Chen Bai asked, “Sister Qian, what were you calling me for earlier?”

The agent, still trying to calm her racing heart, closed her eyes and wiped her face, replying weakly, “I was trying to tell you to stay put and wait for us to come up and get you.”

But then, “snap,” she saw him jump right off the platform without even a hint of hesitation.

To say she thought her heart was about to stop beating wouldn’t be an exaggeration.

The message clearly hadn’t gotten through.

Chen Bai thought for a moment, then hesitantly suggested, “How about I go back up and we pretend nothing happened?”

Gao Qian “…”

The agent sighed and said, “No need.” After looking at him again, she took a deep breath and asked, “With those skinny arms and legs, how did you even have the guts to jump from up there?”

Chen Bai offered a humble smile. “My body’s weak, but my reflexes are decent.”

If he wasn’t confident, he wouldn’t have jumped in the first place.

As the agent clutched her chest, on the other side, Chu Mingyuan had already returned to his seat. He sat down, took the water handed to him by his agent, and gulped it down, his breathing gradually calming.

His agent glanced at him and said, “You ran so fast just now—you didn’t actually think someone had fallen off the platform, did you?”

Chu Mingyuan tightened the cap on the bottle and simply replied, “Yes.”

The agent laughed, “With so many people watching, there’s no way someone could have fallen. And even if they did, it wouldn’t have happened so quietly.”

If someone really had fallen, the people around would’ve reacted long before they even had the chance to check.

He laughed mercilessly, saying, “Looks like I was so scared, and weren’t thinking straight.”

Usually calm and rational, especially when it came to other people’s matters, in this moment, he’d lost his composure. To those unaware…

Chu Mingyue “…”

The agent’s smile gradually faded. His lightheartedness instantly evaporated, and he moved closer to the person sitting next to him, eyes wide.

“You… you…”

He stammered for a while, unable to form a sentence, patting his chest repeatedly before finally squeezing out a full thought.

“Could it be you’re thinking what I’m thinking?”

Chu Mingyuan turned to his assistant, took his bag, and pulled out a bottle of blood pressure medication to hand to his agent.

The gesture was like an instant blood pressure spike. The agent sat down abruptly, threw the medication into his mouth, and washed it down with some water.

He had just made an offhand remark, but unexpectedly, he had stumbled upon something big.

After taking the medication, he leaned back in his chair, trembling as he reached out and said, “I was wondering why you’ve been hanging out with him so much lately.”

Hanging out is fine; after all, it’s just making friends. He had thought that was still better than rushing into a relationship.

It turns out that “making friends” wasn’t as innocent as it seemed—the person he wanted to be friends with wasn’t just a regular friend.

Because Chu Mingyuan had always been a straight-up heterosexual, the agent had never suspected anything. Sure, Chu Mingyuan might mention Chen Bai frequently, but he had always naively assumed it was out of admiration for his acting skills and personality, thinking Chu Mingyuan genuinely wanted to be friends.

Friends? Yeah, right!

This man had ulterior motives from the very beginning! The agent had thought this time, at least, their time on set would pass without any drama.

Struggling to sit up, the agent leaned in closer and whispered, “There’s only two months left. Please, big brother, do me a favor—don’t stir up any trouble.”

Just two months—get through it, and it’ll be over. Having grown used to a peaceful life, the agent desperately didn’t want to return to the daily grind of obsessively checking online for leaked photos and rumors.

Chu Mingyuan: “I’ll try.”

Then he asked, “So after filming wraps, it’s fine?”

The agent rubbed his face and replied, “It’s not that simple.”

He tried to push back a little. “What if they have a girlfriend or boyfriend already? Don’t get too worked up.”

In this industry, very few people are truly single. Many declare they’re single publicly, but they’ve actually been in relationships for years. The only person who’s truly single inside and out is Xu Sinian.

Chu Mingyuan said he had already asked—Chen Bai is single.

The agent wiped his face again, giving up completely. All he could do was repeat mechanically, “Just don’t stir up any trouble before filming wraps.”

The crew was bustling with activity, but the agent’s heart was as cold as if snow were falling in June.

Like a figure aging overnight, he felt that, given the right conditions, his hair could turn gray in a day too.

Luckily, the great film emperor at least respected his high blood pressure and didn’t cause any major trouble. Life, though lived on edge, passed by unexpectedly peacefully.

After two weeks in the city’s royal courtyard residence, filming finished ahead of schedule, and the crew moved back to the small town they were based in.

During those two weeks, they made some small contributions to the city’s tourism industry, such as placing a prominent sign near the courtyard’s platform that read “Do not jump,” greatly improving safety for future visitors.

The first day in the city felt like a small sweet treat before the hammer came down—a way to let everyone relax their guard. For Chen Bai, the first day was his only break; every day after was filled with intense action scenes, leaving him exhausted and sore. By the time they returned to the small town, he felt like a complete wreck.

But even a wreck still had work to do. Chen Bai switched back into his beggar costume and continued to act out scenes with Qian Jin in their ongoing story of the poor beggar and the wicked lord.

After working for more than half a month, they were finally approaching the end of the shoot.

Actors were wrapping up one by one, leaving only a few main and background actors. Fewer boxed lunches were being distributed each day.

As the end approached, the mood on set lightened, with actors selling snacks and drinks during breaks, reveling in their newfound freedom.

At another lunch break, after becoming numb to endless fight scenes, Chen Bai and his friends gathered as usual, sitting together for their meal.

After more than a month of gradual cooling, the temperature had dropped noticeably. Chen Bai wore a warm jacket over his beggar costume, generously lent by a friendly neighbor. He was chatting with his friends when he heard some commotion nearby.

It was the assistant director. He’d grabbed a cameraman and was holding what looked like a soda bottle, acting as a microphone, and pretending to be a reporter. He randomly picked actors for interviews, asking a few simple questions, like what they were most looking forward to after filming wrapped.

Chen Bai, sitting nearby, continued eating, glancing up at the Q&A. He watched the liquid in the bottle slosh around, predicting that the assistant director might get a surprise if he tried to unscrew the ‘microphone’ cap.

After interviewing a few of his friends, the microphone was pointed at Chen Bai. Before the assistant director could ask a question, Chen Bai’s agent, who had just finished eating and drinking, quickly interjected, “If you’re going to ask him anything, one question will be enough.”

The assistant director didn’t quite understand but, staying true to his reporter role, proceeded with the interview, asking, “What’s the thing you most want to do right now?”

Chen Bai replied immediately, “Play games with my friends.”

Predicting where this was going, the agent and assistant both averted their gazes.

The assistant director pressed on, “And what’s the first thing you want to do after filming wraps?”

Chen answered, “Go hang out with my friends.”

Eyebrows twitching, the assistant director asked again, “And the person you most want to see after filming is done…”

Meeting Chen Bai’s gaze, the assistant director cut him off before he could answer, “…is your friend, right?”

Chen Bai nodded affirmatively.

Assistant Director: “…”

He suddenly understood what Chen Bai’s agent had meant earlier.

The agent put down his water cup and, with eyes that could now remain completely calm, said, “That’s just how he is, always thinking about his friends. Don’t worry about it.”

Chen Bai, the “friend-brain,” smiled humbly.

Hearing this, one of the friends turned around and asked, “You two are already so close—can’t you just level up to being boyfriends?”

He wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, earning himself the title of a modern-day instigator.

“Oh, no way,” Chen Bai waved his hand. “How could my friend ever want to be my boyfriend?”

—