Chapter 65: The Press Conference for ‘Youth Journey’
In the afternoon, after returning to his apartment complex, Chen Bai had some free time and decided to do a deep clean of his home. He also took advantage of the New Year’s sales at the supermarket to stock up on daily essentials, bringing everything back home.
With nothing else to do, he found himself with extra time, so he turned on his computer and started streaming early to make up for the live hours he had missed.
He had been busy with Chen Yi Bai’s matters before the New Year, rushing through a packed schedule of work. Then there was his job with Mr. Huo. It felt like forever since he’d last streamed, almost like it was from another lifetime.
He thought so, and the fans thought so too.
After a long absence from streaming, this time was a spontaneous decision without any prior notice. Surprisingly, a lot of people were in the stream. The chat was filled with rapidly scrolling messages, which at first glance seemed full of complaints, interspersed with New Year’s greetings and congratulations for an award.
He had no idea what award they were referring to, so he temporarily ignored it. With a good attitude, Chen Er Bai explained that he had been busy with work lately and wished everyone a Happy New Year.
Once the flurry of comments slowed down, he opened the chat window with his friend, Qingzhou, ready to call him online.
However, his friend hadn’t replied yet, likely having stepped away from their conversation for something urgent.
[Of course, you’re playing with Qingzhou again. You two really don’t treat us like outsiders (nod) (thumbs up)]
[What’s with the turtle in that picture? Did it snow where you are, Er Bai! (Southern accent incoming)]
[You two are definitely in contact outside of streams.]
“That’s not a turtle, that’s a dog.”
Having been mistaken for the umpteenth time, Chen Bai had learned to stay calm. He calmly corrected them and moved on to the next topic, saying, “It snowed heavily this year; a lot of people probably played in the snow.”
The chat erupted with waves of “haha” and jokes.
The jokes weren’t necessarily sincere, but the laughter was definitely real.
Scanning the comments and seeing no reply from his friend, Chen Bai was about to launch the game when he remembered something. He moved his mouse and opened the streaming software.
He originally wanted to check how much stream time he still owed for the month. But as he moved the mouse, his coat accidentally brushed against the keyboard, triggering some key, and suddenly, the system interface popped up.
The messages were split into two categories: system notifications and private messages. The system message interface had automatically appeared.
Seeing a series of unread red dots, he realized just how long it had been since he last opened the backend.
The system notifications from too long ago were no longer relevant, so he skimmed through the most recent ones.
That’s when he finally understood why people had been congratulating him on winning an award.
Although he wasn’t entirely clear on the details and hadn’t received any other messages about it, apparently, he had won a “Newcomer Award” in his current game category. The award was based on a combination of factors like new followers, influence, stream time, and other criteria. He had ranked first, so he won the award. The earlier congratulations were for this.
So that’s what it was.
Sitting up a bit straighter, he took a closer look at the notification and distilled the key points: the award was mostly for show, it would automatically be displayed in his honor section, and the winner would receive a homepage recommendation within the game category.
In short, it was a flashy title with no monetary prize.
Chen Bai, now sitting back again, muttered, “Oh.”
He added, “That’s nice.”
[The visible disappointment, hahaha. No prize money is really sad.]
[Besides the celebrity streamers, Er Bai, your fanbase has grown the most, spanning both the chat and relaxation categories (?). If you hadn’t taken that four-month break, you might have won the whole platform’s newcomer award! (pointing finger)]
[No worries, there’s no money for either category, xD.]
[Chen Er Bai, look at your system messages below! They’re all reminding you that you’re short on streaming hours! Snap out of it!]
Reminded of why he was there in the first place, Chen Bai switched over to check his remaining stream time.
He saw a number that made his eyebrows twitch, and after processing it, he quickly closed the page and opened the game.
He hadn’t logged in for so long that the game’s interface had changed quite a bit.
Going with the flow, he admired the festive, lively decorations that gave off a sense that dumplings were about to be made at any moment.
Two minutes later, Chen Bai set aside his earlier judgment about the loading screen and felt that adapting to the local customs was the right choice.
The game had gifted him a Spring Festival package, which included a skin blind box worth 288.
He claimed the other small gifts, and while the chat made bets on what his notoriously bad luck would get him, he decided to save the blind box, saying, “I’ll wait for my friend to come back and help me open it.”
Remembering the epic games of back-to-back defeats in Ludo from a few months ago, and a friend who was either helping him seek revenge or was on the way to doing so, the viewers agreed that this was the right decision.
[You’re wisely acknowledging your own bad luck.]
[Friend supporters rejoice! You must stream when you open it! We’re curious about your friend’s luck.]
[I want to see Ludo again, no other reason, just want to see Er Bai yelling for help. (cat eyes.jpg)]
[So, when is your friend coming back?]
For slightly popular streamers, there are often fan editors who voluntarily make highlight videos. In addition to having a clip group, Chen Er Bai now had his own editing team while still busy with other work.
Even during his streaming break, his fanbase continued to grow steadily, partly due to the editing team’s skilled hands.
The editor’s highest-played video used to be a compilation of perfectly synchronized moments with Qingzhou. However, it was unexpectedly overtaken by a Ludo video that was initially made just for fun. This video led to a surge in the “Friend Party” fan group, which had previously consisted of only one dedicated fan, and it now had a notable following.
“When is he coming back?” Chen Erbai smiled sincerely and answered, “In a month.”
The chat: [?]
How long?
Thinking they hadn’t heard correctly, Chen Bai kindly repeated himself. His enunciation was flawless, ensuring there was no room for misunderstanding.
It really was a month.
Chen Er Bai reassured them, saying, “A month goes by quickly, actually.”
A WeChat notification popped up—Qingzhou, who had stepped away to take a call, was now online. The two joined a voice chat and officially started the game.
Regardless of how fast the past month felt for the stream viewers, it had flown by for the chosen “working man.”
He had spent four days at Aunt Jiang’s house, which was almost as big as a mansion, and on the last day, his manager flew in and whisked him away to A City.
The beginning and end of the year are the busiest times. His manager handed him a packed schedule that spanned the entire month, leaving only a few days of free time.
With the short vacation over, it was back to work. Upon his return, his stylist had already made arrangements for him.
The previous year’s production ‘Youth Journey’ had finally finished its post-production and review after nearly six months. Now, it was entering its promotional phase, with the last day of his month-long schedule reserved for the ‘Youth Journey’ press conference.
The press conference, similar to ‘Ask Fate’, would be live-streamed, starting promptly at 8 p.m., with key personnel arriving early in the afternoon. This time, actors didn’t even need to prepare outfits—according to the crew, they just had to wear the school uniforms they used during filming.
After a long time apart, Chen Bai was reunited with his study partner, Zhou Jing.
At 3 p.m., five hours before the press conference, most of the lead actors had already arrived. Unlike before, Chen Bai now had his own private dressing room.
But it was more symbolic than practical. Before the crew’s hairstylist and makeup artist arrived, he headed over to catch up with Zhou Jing, and both their teams had a friendly meeting.
The staff were already familiar with Chen Bai’s habits. When they couldn’t find him in his dressing room, they instinctively went to Zhou Jing’s room and, unsurprisingly, found him there.
It wasn’t until right before a round of rehearsals, when he needed to change and fix his slightly messy hair, that he said goodbye to his study partner and returned to his own room.
When ‘Youth Journey’ was announced for a TV remake, the director, screenwriter, and cinematographer were all part of the original team. However, the cast remained unannounced, and public opinion was divided. Some people were excited, while others were skeptical.
Once the cast was revealed, the tide of opinion quickly shifted. The film had already been excellent, with a smooth and concise plot. But now, broken up into a TV series with an entirely new cast, especially with the announcement that the male and female leads were notorious for their poor acting, and that the second male lead was a newcomer, skepticism grew. Some within the industry and fans of the original movie began to boycott the remake.
Thankfully, the producer and director kept their cool, unaffected by the public outcry, and the actors continued filming.
The first positive shift in public opinion came when the promotional photos were released. While the new cast looked very different from the original actors, the photos showed them fitting their roles well. They looked natural, with minimal makeup, capturing the simplicity of high school students.
The real turning point came when ‘Ask Fate’ was released. Zhou Jing, whose acting had been widely doubted, delivered an unexpectedly stellar performance, shocking even his own fans. The previously overlooked newcomer also proved to be a quick learner, holding his own alongside veteran actors. When the drama became a hit, all the leads skyrocketed in popularity. The female lead transitioned into the film industry, Zhou Jing moved up a level, and the other actors saw their paychecks rise accordingly.
The show’s reputation turned around, and with the two leads collaborating again, ‘Youth Journey’ enjoyed a wave of hype, maintaining its momentum and becoming the most anticipated drama of the year.
With ample promotional funds, the excitement grew over the next two weeks. By the time the press conference started at 8 p.m., the livestream room was already packed.
[Has it started yet? Has it started yet?]
[What year is it? Zhou Jing and Yi Bai are finally back on screen together, I’m crying!]
[I’ve already prepared my meal for the stream, so when’s 8 p.m. coming!]
At 8 p.m. sharp, the livestream screen dimmed and then lit up again, as the cast took the stage.
At first glance, viewers saw the blue-and-white school uniforms and froze, before realizing these weren’t actual high school students. Their eyes widened.
But there was someone missing behind Zhou Jing.
[Where’s Chen Yi Bai?]
Due to a last-minute issue, Chen Yi Bai was the last to take the stage. To catch up with the flow, he quickened his pace, adding a small running start.
His hair fluttered slightly with the movement, and his blue-and-white school uniform seemed to stir the air as he hopped up onto the stage, a blue-and-white wristband on his hand. With him came the sound of summer cicadas, and the dappled shadows of a humid afternoon.
The others on stage instinctively left him a spot, which he filled perfectly.
[Chen Yi Bai, it’s been a while! How did you get even more handsome?!]
[What is this? A living male idol! I can’t even! What is this? A living male idol! I can’t even!]
[A row of school heartthrobs and beauties, I love it!]
After the usual opening words, when the creative team joined them on stage, Zhou Jing put down his microphone, turned to Chen Yi Bai standing beside him, and asked, “How are you?”
The last-minute issue had been caused by a staff member rushing by with an equipment stand, not noticing it was about to collide with Chen Bai as he prepared to go on stage.
Chen Bai also set down his mic, laughing awkwardly. “I’m fine, but my back isn’t doing so well.”
He had reacted quickly enough to dodge the stand, but wearing the school uniform made him feel like his high school self, and he misjudged his movements. He clearly felt the strain in his back as he tried to evade the stand.
So, he stood still for a while to recover, which made him the last person on stage.
Zhou Jing nodded. “That’s good.”
He then added, matter-of-factly, that Chen Bai’s back hadn’t been in great shape anyway, so a little more strain wouldn’t make much difference.
Chen Bai laughed, giving a thumbs-up, praising how his study partner’s witty remarks had improved during their time apart.
The lead actors and the creative team took the stage. What was supposed to be a traditional sharing session of behind-the-scenes stories was switched up by the planning team into an exciting and nerve-wracking lottery draw.
It was definitely nerve-wracking, in every sense.
As the event started, a staff member brought out a box filled with small slips of paper. It was an ordinary box, with ordinary slips of paper. The drawing would be live-streamed, and no one, not even the participants, would know what they were drawing until the moment they picked. It was a true test of their ability to think on their feet.
In a show of professional thoroughness, the staff member gave the box a few good shakes with his average, yet deceptively strong, arms, ensuring everything was well-mixed. He then set it down lightly and left, without a trace.
While everyone else waited anxiously, Chen Yi Bai stood calmly, exuding a sense of serene composure.
It wasn’t because he was particularly relaxed, but because he knew he didn’t need to worry about picking a difficult question. With his uncanny luck, he was sure to pull a challenging one.
The air around him wasn’t calm—it was filled with an almost deathly quiet.
The director didn’t participate in the drawing, instead acting as a kind of referee, overseeing the event.
The first “lucky” person to draw was Zhou Jing. He stepped forward, placed his microphone on the table, clapped his hands twice, closed his eyes briefly, then reached into the box.
“…”
No one knew if this ritual calmed him, but it definitely made everyone else more nervous.
He pulled out a slip and opened it in front of the camera. The director leaned over to take a look. The slip had just one short sentence: “Who are you closest with in the crew?”
For others, this might have been a tough question, but for him, it was a no-brainer. Before he even answered, everyone instinctively looked at the “school idol” standing off to the side with his wristband.
Momentarily lost in thought, the “school idol” snapped out of it and looked up, saying, “Huh?”
Zhou Jing exhaled and answered, “Chen Yi Bai.”
Hearing his name, Chen Yi Bai, confused, raised his hand and responded, “Here.” Zhou Jing walked over, gently pushing his hand down, saying, “It’s fine.”
[Haha, Zhou Jing looks like he’s taking care of a clueless child!]
[Seriously though, the way everyone already knew the answer before he even said it!]
[Reminder: don’t fall into this duo’s trap. They’re the kind who would study together at 1 a.m.! (Shakes head)]
[Haha, so even off-screen, he’s still called Chen Yi Bai. I almost forgot his real name is Chen Bai.]
Next up was the female lead. She was visibly nervous, moving slowly as she picked her slip and even slower as she opened it. She relaxed instantly when she saw the question: “Which character is your favorite?” It was easy to answer, and she quickly returned to her seat, visibly more at ease.
With her done, it was Chen Bai’s turn.
Unlike the female lead, he confidently stepped forward, rolled up his sleeves, reached into the box, and pulled out a slip without hesitation.
Fast and decisive, the director also leaned over to take a look.
“What do you like most?”
Surprisingly, it was an easy question—no need for any deep thinking.
Chen Bai “…”
The person known for his notoriously bad luck stared at his hand in disbelief, his half-closed eyes now wide open.
Before he could answer, the live chat had already done it for him.
[Money]
[Money]
[Money]
One after another, the comments echoed “money,” as if they were forming some sort of synchronized lineup.
[Well, that perfectly captures the earlier comment about knowing the answer before he even says it.]
[Such a neat line of comments! Classic Chen Yi Bai, whose profile picture is literally the God of Wealth!]
The director glanced at the screen showing the live comments and turned to Chen Bai, who was still staring at his hand. Before Chen Bai could respond, the director said, “The audience thinks what you like most is money.”
Chen Bai finally looked up, incredulous. “So, that’s what you’ve always thought of me?”
The director asked, “So, what’s your answer?”
Scratching his head with a laugh, Chen Bai replied honestly and simply, “Money.”
After thinking for a moment, he added, “And friends. They’re tied for first.”
The director raised an eyebrow. “Friends?”
Chen Bai nodded, “Friends. I even spent a few days at a friend’s house during the holidays.”
“…”
The “friendship brain” was at full capacity, and his manager, watching from the audience, rubbed his face and looked away.
With that, the question was over. Now, everyone knew that Chen Bai valued a friend as much as money. The next person, nervous and cautious, stepped up for their turn.
The draw wasn’t just one round. There were many slips in the box, and even though they didn’t put the slips back after drawing, it would take a few rounds to finish.
It seemed like luck was on fire today. In the second round, Chen Bai reached in again and pulled out a slip. The question was: “What was your favorite scene to film?”
It was an easy question, and Chen Bai smiled as he answered, “The fight scene with the male lead.”
Throughout the drama, Chen Yi Bai had many fight scenes, but there was only one with the male lead. This fight scene was also in the movie. Everyone, including the director and audience members who had seen the film, remembered it well.
The male lead played a studious character, not skilled in fighting. Chen Yi Bai’s character, Xu Yifan, was still a delinquent at the time, and his blows were ruthless. The appeal of this scene was crystal clear, with no need to hide it.
Zhou Jing: “…”
Chen Bai gave a small smile.
The director also smiled and pointed out, “There’s still half of the paper folded up. Why don’t you unfold it and take a look?”
Chen Bai blinked, glancing back at the slip. Only now did he notice that it was indeed still folded. He opened it, and sure enough, there was more writing.
[And then demonstrated on the spot]
Chen Bai “…”
Chen Bai immediately reached out and held his lower back.
He understood now—completely enlightened.
The fact that Chen Bai has bad luck still hadn’t changed. This lottery draw was just like when he rolls dice: after rolling a six, all the following rolls are bound to be ones.
He hesitated and then tried, “So what if I say my favorite scene is the one where I was napping on the desk?”
The director laughed, “No way.”
Now it was Zhou Jing’s turn to laugh.
[Haha, Chen Yi Bai digging a hole for himself!]
[It’s like watching a samoyed dog transform into ‘Samoyed sigh…’]
[The smile isn’t gone; it just moved from Chen Yi Bai’s face to Zhou Jing’s and mine!]
[The director’s ‘No way’ was so decisive, haha!]
Chen Yi Bai, in mock anger, dramatically raised the slip of paper and then gently placed it back on the table. Rolling up his sleeves, he said, “Alright, let’s do this.”
All they needed as a prop was a table, and there happened to be one right there. The staff member with the strong arms carried the box away, and the others moved to the stage’s edge, giving space.
Zhou Jing, who was about to get “beaten up,” stepped forward, playing along.
The room fell silent. Chen Yi Bai, still holding his back, rubbed it a couple more times before finally letting go.
No cue from the director was needed, no countdown. The moment he stood up straight and looked up again, the smile on his face changed.
It was a subtle smirk, a bit cocky, casual. His steps were slow and lazy, his demeanor completely shifting. He was still the same person, but his aura was entirely different.
In an instant, he was in character. The others barely had time to react, only managing to catch a glimpse of his messy bangs sweeping through the air, and the sound of his school uniform cutting through the wind echoed from the mic on the table.
