The Stand-in Side Character Only Wants to Make Money – CH59

Chapter 59: Can You Give Me a Chance?

Qian Jin’s attempt to stir the pot failed, so he nodded and said, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

This unexpected idea made Gao Qian, who was standing nearby, glance at his smiling friend.

Did Chen Bai really never think of it that way?

The others didn’t notice anything strange and just laughed. After finishing their laughs, the assistant director and cameraman left to interview Chu Mingyuan on the other side.

Chu Mingyuan was the last to be interviewed. After a long day, the assistant director, tired, absentmindedly unscrewed the cap of the soda bottle “microphone,” causing the soda to explode.

As Chen Bai finished his meal, he heard a loud shriek from the assistant director in the distance.

Ever since the assistant director had asked about their plans post-filming, time seemed to fly by. During the final few days on set, it wasn’t until the director started planning the wrap party that time felt real again.

They decided the wrap party would be held the day after all filming tasks were completed. Since most of the key crew and investors were in City A, the wrap party was scheduled there for convenience.

The last scene of the film wrapped up earlier than expected, with work ending by noon. The crew had a small gathering at a local restaurant, toasted each other, and then everyone went back to the hotel to catch up on sleep.

After a heavy afternoon nap, those attending the wrap party the next day prepared to leave in the morning. They traveled from the small town to the city, and then from the city to the airport.

There were two flights. Qian Jin and a few others who couldn’t book the first flight had to wait for the next one, which was an hour later.

Thanks to his assistant’s quick booking, Chen Bai didn’t have to wait and boarded the earlier flight. Along with him were the assistant director and, surprisingly, Chu Mingyuan, who was originally supposed to take the next flight.

The moment Chen Bai saw Chu Mingyuan, he had a bad feeling. After boarding, he found his seat, sat down, and immediately turned to his agent to ask, “Is there going to be someone meeting Chu Mingyuan at the airport again this time?”

Last time they arrived at the airport around the same time but went through different exits. This time, since they were on the same flight, they’d have to exit together.

Remembering the huge crowd from last time, Chen Bai wasn’t exactly thrilled about navigating through it again.

His agent glanced at her phone and said, “Their team hasn’t revealed their travel plans this time.”

After changing her search keywords, she added, “The team didn’t release the info, but I can’t be sure if someone sold it.”

She turned to Chen Bai, reassuring him, “It should be fine this time.”

Chu Mingyuan had originally claimed he was on the next flight, and it wasn’t until boarding that everyone realized he was actually on the same one. The time discrepancy should mean no unexpected crowds.

Feeling reassured, Chen Bai closed his eyes and quickly drifted off to sleep.

The agent was truly impressed with his ability to sleep.

Chen Bai had been sleeping since the afternoon the previous day, and now he could still continue sleeping without a problem.

For the entire duration of the flight, Chen Bai, with his incredible sleeping skills, slept for hours. When they landed, he was still groggy, and his assistant had to help steady him.

They had all boarded together, and now they disembarked as a group.

As he groggily drifted forward like someone sleepwalking, his agent grabbed him halfway through. The director, walking behind, turned to Chu Mingyuan and grinned, “Look at him.”

Chu Mingyuan also smiled. Though his mask covered his mouth, his slightly squinted eyes betrayed the smile underneath. “He’s quite funny.”

In the past, Chu Mingyuan’s agent might have agreed and laughed along, but now he couldn’t even muster a smile—especially when he noticed Chu Mingyuan’s gaze was fixed intently on the white-haired figure drifting ahead.

The two-month timeframe was up, and the film had wrapped.

The agent had hoped to delay things, hoping Chu Mingyuan would naturally give up his ideas once filming ended, as he had done many times before.

At worst, after the wrap party, they wouldn’t see much of each other, except during promotions, leaving no room for further development.

And even if Chu Mingyuan still had feelings, with the incredibly dense Chen Bai, as long as no one spelled it out, Chu Mingyuan’s thoughts would remain unexpressed and ultimately futile.

But now the agent had a bad feeling.

For one thing, Chu Mingyuan hadn’t given up. In fact, over the past few days, his attempts to talk to Chen Bai had significantly increased, and his gaze was becoming harder to ignore.

Based on years of experience, the next step was likely a confession.

And the only appropriate opportunity to have such a conversation in person would be at tonight’s wrap party.

If they could get through the night without incident, the agent would breathe a sigh of relief. But if Chu Mingyuan did confess, then the upcoming challenges—managing their schedules, handling the media, and dodging paparazzi—would be overwhelming.

Having just wrapped up the project, everyone else was in a good mood, their steps light and carefree. Only the agent was left wiping his face in dread.

The trick of giving false flight info had worked like a charm. From the moment they left the airport to getting in the car, everything went smoothly.

The group drew a bit of attention due to their size, but they moved quickly, and before anyone could recognize them, the teams had already dispersed and left in their cars.

This was Chen Bai’s first time seeing the car his company had assigned him and meeting the new driver who had joined his team.

The driver and car had been arranged earlier, but since the production team handled transportation during filming, this was their first official introduction.

The driver’s last name was Zhao, a chatty middle-aged man, about two decades older than Chen Bai, with decades of driving experience.

Chen Bai didn’t know much about cars, though he knew a little about electric scooters. All he could tell was that this car probably cost more than he earned in a while.

His agent said, “The company picked out a good car and driver for you. They’re betting on making big money with you.”

Her words were blunt and to the point. Chen Bai smiled, “I’ll do my best.”

For convenience, the crew had booked a hotel close to the airport, only a thirty-minute drive away.

In that half-hour, Chen Bai, a social butterfly, had already bonded with the driver, reaching the stage where they were calling each other brothers.

Chen Bai called the driver “uncle Zhao,” and Zhao called him “little brother.” They both used their own terms without any confusion.

When they arrived at the hotel, the agent and two assistants watched as the white-haired Chen and the driver seamlessly exchanged contact information.

Upon entering the hotel, the lobby was bustling with familiar faces. The wrap party was set for that evening, and many people had arrived early. The crew had also arranged rooms for everyone.

The production wasn’t stingy, and with plenty of money to spend, they had arranged suites that could accommodate entire teams, so no one had to split up.

After lunch in the hotel room, the agent glanced at her phone and said, “Your stylist hasn’t been confirmed yet. The one we’re aiming for still hasn’t ended their contract with their current team. It shouldn’t take too long.”

Chen Bai nodded.

The agent then looked at his jacket and said, “The winter collection from EV has arrived. Your friend picked it up for you. It’s either at his place or yours.”

She casually asked, “Did you tell your friend when you’ll see each other?”

Chen Bai nodded without hesitation, “He’s picking me up after the wrap party tonight.”

As expected, no surprises there. The agent leaned back and said, “He’s practically your personal driver at this point.”

He was picking Chen Bai up more often than his actual driver.

Chen Bai didn’t really notice and glanced sideways, “Really?”

Before the agent could respond, a notification sounded. A message popped up on Chen Bai’s phone, and he looked down to reply.

The agent asked, “Was that from your friend?”

“No,” Chen Bai replied, “It’s from Chu Mingyuan.”

The agent’s brows furrowed slightly as she watched him type back. Tapping her fingers on the table, she mused aloud, “Has Chu Mingyuan been contacting you a lot recently?”

The two assistants, busy nearby, perked up their ears and leaned in closer.

“Has he?” Chen Bai didn’t think much of it. “It’s about the same frequency as my chats with Qian Jin.”

But that was already a pretty high frequency.

Adding in all the conversations they had on set, it was clearly more than normal.

The agent glanced again at Chen Bai, who had finished replying to Chu Mingyuan and was now pestering his friend. She rubbed her temples and said, “Chu Mingyuan is not like you; he doesn’t just chat with people for no reason.”

Chen Bai wanted to say he didn’t talk to people for no reason either, but the agent’s eyes landed on his phone screen, where he had just sent a string of meaningless emojis to his neighbor.

Gao Qian “…”

So, he stayed silent and, without thinking, sent another emoji.

Someone who normally doesn’t waste words wouldn’t randomly start conversations without a purpose. The agent rubbed her temples again.

There was nothing material to be gained from someone like Chu Mingyuan; that possibility could be ruled out.

And if material gain was out of the question, that only left personal interest.

Though there wasn’t a solid reason for this feeling, the agent suspected that Chu Mingyuan wasn’t just looking to be friends.

Gao Qian “…”

Rubbing her temples didn’t help. Her head throbbed. This was just a guess, after all, nothing was confirmed yet. She could only say, “If Chu Mingyuan says anything strange to you, think carefully before you reply.”

Chen Bai’s neighbor had just texted back, and he waved his hand with a smile, casually agreeing, “Alright, alright.”

They were all colleagues, and Chen Bai didn’t think much of it. He figured that even if Chu Mingyuan said something odd, it wouldn’t be too strange.

He was a born optimist.

The agent rubbed her head and didn’t say anything more. As long as he had listened to her, that was enough.

Lunch ended, followed by a brief rest. In the afternoon, they prepared for the evening wrap party.

The party venue was lavishly decorated, a clear display of the crew’s strong backing and the financial power of the investors.

The room was packed with people, and a good number of media outlets had also been invited. The reporters were mingling, engaging in socializing before the scheduled photos and interviews.

By the time Chen Bai arrived, his friend Qian Jin was already there. Shortly after, the wrap party officially began. The two of them stuck together and navigated through the event with practiced ease.

The flashes of cameras lit up the room as Chen Bai stood on stage with flowers in his arms, his white hair falling over his face, and his eyes slightly crinkled with a smile.

The sound of shutters filled the air. Standing in the center of the stage with the director, Chu Mingyuan glanced slightly to the side, looking at Chen Bai.

Holding his flowers, Chen Bai noticed the gaze from the side and turned his head. Across from him, through Qian Jin and another actor, he met Chu Mingyuan’s still lingering gaze. Though unsure why, Chen Bai politely smiled and turned away.

It was a brief interaction, but in the crowd below, Gao Qian, who was clapping along with the audience, turned to look at Chu Mingyuan’s agent standing nearby.

The agent wasn’t clapping. Dressed sharply in a suit, he calmly pulled out something from his pocket and took it.

Gao Qian recognized it as blood pressure medication, a common remedy his friend kept with him.

Gao Qian “…”

Suddenly, things started to make a little more sense.

After the event on stage ended, the agents quickly gathered up their respective actors.

The party officially began after the ceremony, with the lead actors sharing a table along with their agents. No matter the overall atmosphere, with both his agent and friends nearby, Chen Bai was thoroughly enjoying himself.

At a table full of investors and main cast members, both Chen Bai and his buddy Qian Jin weren’t drinkers, so they sat together sipping grape juice.

Qian Jin, with a lower tolerance than Chen Bai, drank only grape juice but, overwhelmed by the scent of alcohol around him, started acting drunk. He leaned in close and whispered, “When I become a famous screenwriter, I’ll have you play the lead.”

Chen Bai continued eating politely and replied, “Aren’t you going to be the lead?”

Qian Jin waved his hand dismissively, “Once I’m a screenwriter, who’s going to act?”

Acting sometimes meant getting scolded, but as a screenwriter, he figured he might even get to scold the director sometimes.

Chen Bai understood.

This guy just wanted to know what it felt like to boss around the director.

Unaware that his true intentions were exposed, the future screenwriter was about to keep talking. Before his voice got any louder, Chen Bai stopped him from saying anything risky and handed him over to his agent to deal with this guy, who hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol but was already talking like a drunk.

Qian Jin was taken away.

As the toasts continued, the others at the table grew more flushed, while Chen Bai, focused on eating, was now full.

Nearing the end of the event, Gao Qian, who had also had quite a bit to drink but was still sober, glanced at the time. Then, noticing that Chen Bai had put down his chopsticks and was quietly sipping water, she leaned over and said, “There’s nothing left for you here. If you’re full, you can leave.”

She asked, “When is your friend coming to pick you up?”

Chen Bai let out a slow yawn and replied, “He left a while ago, probably about 20 minutes away.”

Gao Qian said, “If you’re bored here, you can head up to the little garden upstairs. It’s usually empty, and you can get some fresh air.”

She added, “It’s cold outside. If you go, remember to grab a coat from your room.”

Chen Bai glanced at her, “What about you?”

Gao Qian tapped the rim of her glass and looked at the investors across the table. “I plan to drink them all under the table tonight.”

It was the competitive spirit of an agent.

Knowing Gao Qian could handle herself, Chen Bai nodded, finished his juice, and got up to leave.

The hall was filled with a mix of scents—perfume, alcohol, and the warmth of the air conditioning—which made Chen Bai a bit drowsy. But he had to wait for his neighbor to arrive, so he couldn’t afford to doze off just yet.

The small garden upstairs was indeed empty. It wasn’t enclosed or heated, and with the chilly wind blowing that evening, no one else wanted to be there. After a quick glance around, Chen Bai saw there wasn’t a soul in sight.

Relieved to have some solitude, Chen Bai adjusted his coat, which he’d put on after returning to his room, and leaned against the railing. He pulled out his phone.

The glow from the screen illuminated his face as he took a picture of the city skyline and sent a message to his good neighbor, casually telling him where he was.

The wind cleared his head completely.

Zipping up his coat, Chen Bai had just put his phone away when he heard a noise carried by the wind. It sounded like someone calling his name.

He brushed his hair back and turned around, spotting a figure walking towards him from the entrance to the garden. It seemed like they were heading straight for him.

And indeed, they were.

The voice hadn’t been clear, and the figure was hard to make out in the dim light, so Chen Bai squinted. It wasn’t until the person got closer that he recognized who it was.

It was Chu Mingyuan, whom he’d just seen at dinner.

Despite the cold, Chu Mingyuan looked perfectly comfortable in just a black shirt, showing no sign of discomfort as he walked through the wind.

Chen Bai hadn’t expected to see him again so soon after parting ways at the dinner table, but here they were. He nodded politely and greeted him, “What a coincidence.”

Chu Bai didn’t acknowledge the coincidence. Instead, he stopped by the railing and asked, “Waiting for someone?”

His tone was casual, as it always was, just idle conversation. Chen Bai nodded slightly, “Yeah, waiting for a friend and getting some fresh air to wake up.”

Chu Bai glanced at him and said, “I remember you didn’t drink tonight.”

“I’m not drunk, just sleepy,” Chen Bai replied with a humble smile. “Not to brag, but I’m terrible at holding my liquor.”

Chu Mingyuan smiled, agreeing.

The night breeze carried a faint scent of alcohol. Chen Bai asked, “Are you here to sober up?”

“Not entirely.”

Chu Mingyuan pulled out his phone, changing the subject, “I don’t think we’ve ever taken a photo together, have we?”

Chen Bai’s first thought was of the set photos and the fresh group shots from that evening’s wrap party.

As if reading his mind, Chu Mingyuan clarified, “Not a group photo.”

In that case, no, they hadn’t.

Despite filming for a whole season, Chen Bai’s collection of photos consisted only of ones with his close friends, ones his agent had strictly forbidden him from posting.

Chu Mingyuan asked, “Mind if we take one now?”

So that’s what this was about. It was a small request, and Chen Bai was always generous with these things. He nodded, “Sure.”

The only downside was that this time, Chen Bai wouldn’t be holding the camera. Chu Mingyuan would. As Chu Mingyuan held up his phone and moved closer, Chen Bai struck a simple peace sign as the phone’s light flashed.

The picture was taken.

Chu Mingyuan glanced at the photo, his eyes lingering on Chen Bai’s smile for a moment before drifting lower. He noticed a thin scar on Chen Bai’s arm, revealed when his sleeve slid back as he made the peace sign.

Lifting his gaze from the phone, Chu Mingyuan looked at Chen Bai and asked, “Is that from the last fight scene? It’s been a while, and the scar’s still there?”

Although the crew’s props were blunt, sometimes, when people weren’t using proper props or didn’t control their strength, it was possible to get injured, especially at awkward angles.

Chen Bai had almost forgotten about the scar. After a moment of thought, he nodded with a smile, “It’s mostly healed. Once the scab falls off, it’ll be good as new.”

He was as laid-back as ever, just like when he got injured—his brow didn’t even twitch, as if nothing could really bother him.

Chu Mingyuan thought that he himself probably wasn’t really important to Chen Bai either. Just like that scar, in time, it would be forgotten.

If he were to be honest, he didn’t want to be forgotten.

To avoid being forgotten, the only option was to take the initiative and break through that barrier.

After putting away his phone and glancing at the time on his watch, Chu Mingyuan stopped beating around the bush. He made a final confirmation, asking, “Do you have someone you like right now?”

Chen Bai “?”

The shift in the conversation was so abrupt, it was like jumping from the price of pancakes downstairs to an army of 100,000 braised chicken soldiers invading Earth. Chen Bai was caught off guard, his brain taking a couple of spins before he understood what Chu Mingyuan was asking. After thinking for a moment, he finally responded, “Why?”

He saw Chu Mingyuan lean slightly forward, looking him straight in the eyes as he said, “If you still don’t, would you try with me?”

Every word made sense, but together they formed something like Morse code.

Chen Bai could probably crack Morse code with some effort, but this particular message was beyond him.

He quickly made a time-out gesture, calmly thinking it over, not even noticing the two vibrations from his phone in his pocket.

Though he hadn’t quite figured it out yet, this must have been what his agent had referred to as “strange talk.” He had dismissed it at the time, but now here he was, facing it for real.

The strangest part was, he hadn’t expected ‘this’ kind of strange talk.

—It would’ve been easier to discuss an army of 100,000 braised chickens invading Earth.

Chen Bai “…”

After a brief pause to think, the solitary “war god” Chen Bai concluded he must have misunderstood, so he calmly asked, “What do you mean by ‘try’?”

His good colleague responded, “Try dating.”

Alright, so he hadn’t misunderstood.

Chen Bai’s head shot up, and he blurted out, “Bro, you…”

Bro, aren’t you straight?

He couldn’t recall doing anything to make himself likable.

His colleague remained serious, not backing down, and asked, “Could you give me a chance?”

It was a clever way to phrase it. Saying yes wasn’t really an option, but outright refusing would feel strange and might leave one momentarily unsure of what to say.

Especially for someone like Chen Bai, whose method of rejection usually involved a quick and direct punch.

While Chu Mingyuan waited quietly for an answer, footsteps approached from a distance, not too loud, not too soft.

Downstairs at the hotel, having received no reply to his messages, Xu Sinian had entered the hotel and made his way to the floor with the small garden.

There were two people at the garden railing, and as Xu Sinian got closer, he caught bits of their conversation drifting on the wind. Just as he neared, he heard the final sentence.

Hearing the footsteps, both men by the railing turned to look. The taller man’s brow furrowed slightly, showing some displeasure at being interrupted.

The other, with messy white hair blown by the wind, turned as well. His wide-eyed expression was still somewhat dazed from the sudden confession, and for a moment, his pupils flickered with surprise, as if he was about to call out Xu Sinian’s name, tears already welling up.

Without breaking stride, Xu Sinian walked over and stopped beside the white-haired man. Meeting Chu Mingyuan’s gaze, Xu Sinian casually took hold of the hand that was hanging by the man’s side.

Chen Bai looked down at Xu Sinian’s actions, slightly raising his head, the tears he had been holding back now halted, as if wondering what Xu Sinian was doing.

Confused, but not rejecting the gesture, Chen Bai allowed Xu Sinian’s fingers to interlace with his. Xu Sinian firmly held his hand, their fingers tightly woven together. Only then did he lift his gaze and meet Chu Mingyuan’s now narrowed eyes directly.

With his other hand free, Xu pulled down his mask, the chill from his walk to the garden still lingering on him. Extending his hand in greeting, he introduced himself simply, “Hello, I’m Xu Sinian.”

**Author’s note:**

(Suddenly grabbed by the hand) Chen Bai: (thinking)(I don’t quite get it)(but he must have his reasons for doing this)(so I’ll go along with it)

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