The exquisite wine in his glass nearly tipped over. Luckily, Yu Zhi set it down on the bar in time, saving both of them from a spill.
A flash of recognition crossed his eyes; instantly, countless memories and plot points flooded his mind.
His gaze toward the man changed slightly.
This was a world in the entertainment industry, and the protagonist is a young celebrity who had been reborn.
In his previous life, the young celebrity had met a scumbag early in his career. Not only was he used as a stepping stone, but he was also manipulated into quitting the industry to become a househusband. After five years of hard work, he discovered the scumbag was bisexual and had been cheating all along. By the time their son was three, he tried to expose the scumbag but, in the struggle, failed to watch the road and was accidentally hit by a car, dying instantly.
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself five years in the past, just starting the relationship with the scumbag, not yet drained or forced out of showbiz.
This time, he decisively dumped the scumbag and worked hard to rise in the entertainment industry, aiming to become an international best actor.
Thanks to the skills he had self-taught at home in his previous life, he drew considerable attention, with a strong Mary Sue/Gary Stu vibe.
The people drawn to him included arch-rivals, powerful CEOs, popular stars, well-known directors, and veteran award-winning actors.
All the others genuinely liked him, but the veteran actor wasn’t so simple.
It was said that the veteran actor had a white moonlight he could never have, and it weighed heavily on him. Because of that, he had never dated anyone, didn’t spread rumors, and lived like an ascetic.
Until the protagonist appeared.
The first time the veteran actor saw the protagonist at a gala, he said simply, “You look very familiar. You really resemble him.”
Just from that one sentence, he devoted himself to helping the protagonist from then on, becoming the protagonist’s golden finger.
The protagonist was slandered—he cleared it up.
The protagonist had someone tried to harm him—he fixed it.
The protagonist released a work—he was the first to fully support it.
The protagonist wanted a certain role—he worked tirelessly to secure it.
Whenever the protagonist needed help, needed people, he never failed to show up.
Here was a veteran actor with fame, status, and wealth, yet he lived his life as a backup, a golden finger for someone else.
The protagonist had tangled relationships with several people, but despite being the person who contributed the most, the veteran actor never pursued anything further with any of them.
Whenever the protagonist felt grateful and even eager to take the relationship further, the veteran actor would look at him deeply and say in a solemn tone, “You really resemble him.”
This line repeated throughout the story from start to finish.
Yet the him in that line never appeared. Not once.
There wasn’t even a hint of who he was.
A completely intangible, ethereal figure, but present across the entire story, it became the veteran actor’s inescapable, unforgettable psychological shadow.
The plot had designed this as a golden finger for the protagonist, shaping the veteran actor’s entire life.
A life of suffering, of wanting the unattainable.
He could only find solace in the protagonist.
But even that was like drinking poison to quench thirst.
When the protagonist finally won the prestigious movie Best Actor award, the veteran actor seemed to finally release his burdens. With life having lost all meaning, he committed suicide at home.
The veteran actor’s whole life had only one task: to serve as the protagonist’s human golden finger. Once the protagonist succeeded, his purpose vanished.
And when a tool loses its use, the story made him expend his final value, arranging his death to make the character more three-dimensional and unforgettable.
Yet the white moonlight that haunted the veteran actor all his life, the one that drove his obsession, never truly appeared.
Or rather, it had never existed.
It was nothing more than the storyline manipulating the mind of the veterann actor, driving him to obsession over someone, and compelling him to give everything for the protagonist who resembled that person.
The term white moonlight seemed etched into his very bones and soul, forging the tragedy of his entire life.
Tragic, yet laughable.
This award-winning actor’s surname was Ji, given name Xingyu—Ji Xingyu.
A curious coincidence: exactly the same as the name on the business card in his hand.
Yu Zhi would not take it as mere coincidence. As events unfolded, it became clear that the man in front of him, with his face radiating determination, was precisely the mission target assigned to him in this world.
He had originally intended to turn and walk away, but he found himself compelled to stop, gazing at the young, handsome man before him.
“Excuse me, Mr. Ji, I don’t believe we know each other,” Yu Zhi said politely.
Ji Xingyu fought to suppress the surge of desire within him, restraining the impulse to rush forward and overwhelm the man.
He smoothed his expression, picked up a glass of red wine from the bar, and took a measured sip. His words carried a subtle weight: “You don’t know me?”
As an internationally renowned movie actor, could there truly be anyone who didn’t recognize him? Ji Xingyu allowed himself a faint, private smile.
His gaze briefly flicked to the room card in Yu Zhi’s hand. “I thought you understood what I meant.”
Yu Zhi had no intention of understanding.
He could not comprehend why the acting icon in the storyline, so utterly devoted to his white moonlight, would actively send him such signals at this very moment.
Could it be that the storyline in which Ji Xingyu obsessed with someone to the point of death was… false?
“May I ask… do you… like me?” Yu Zhi asked politely.
The moment the words like me left his mouth, it was as though some switch had been triggered inside Ji Xingyu. His expression darkened instantly, and a warning flickered in his gaze.
“Heh… you’re overthinking. It’s only because you resemble him.”
“Know your place.”
Yu Zhi: “…”
Hearing a line that belonged to the acting icon’s dialogue with the protagonist in the story, Yu Zhi froze for a moment.
After a pause, he glanced around, spotting the protagonist, Lu Qi, conversing with others at a distance. Slowly, it dawned on him: he had, in a sense, stolen the protagonist’s scene.
At this party, Ji Xingyu… you and him really are alike—this was exactly the scene from the storyline when Ji Xingyu first met the protagonist.
Except now, the person being told he resembled someone had become him. The rest of the scene matched the storyline fairly well… or rather, Yu Zhi glanced at the room card in his hand and frowned slightly.
In the original storyline, Ji Xingyu hadn’t given the protagonist a room card, so why was it different here?
Ji Xingyu’s friends, having watched him lose his composure on the spot, were dumbfounded for a while. Only when they saw him getting more and more reckless did they snap back to reality, rushing over to restrain him and apologetically smile at Yu Zhi.
“Sorry… he’s drunk and acting up. Whatever he said, don’t take it seriously! Just… don’t take it seriously!”
With that, they hurriedly dragged Ji Xingyu away from the scene of potential trouble.
They feared that if Ji Xingyu got into a fight right here, news of ⟬ International Acting Icon Gets Attacked at Engagement Party ⟭ would hit trending topics in minutes.
Even as Ji Xingyu was forcibly pulled away, his gaze remained locked on Yu Zhi, still radiating an intense, determined glint. Heh.
“I’ll wait for you.”
Yu Zhi twitched the corner of his mouth, reluctant to look at the mission target of this inexplicable transferred affection. He was about to leave when a slightly chubby man in his thirties came rushing toward him.
“Yu Zhi! Come on, I’m introducing someone to you. Where are you running off to?”
The man was Chen Yue, the original owner’s manager. He had brought Yu Zhi to this party to help him build connections. Otherwise, as a newcomer, it could take an unknown amount of time before Yu Zhi could make a name for himself.
The original owner had been a fresh-faced rookie, discovered by a talent scout on the street, and thus recruited into the entertainment world.
Because of his flawless, androgynous beauty, the original owner had entered the entertainment industry and become a widely recognized flower vase[mfn]A term in Chinese pop culture referring to someone famous primarily for their looks rather than talent[/mfn].
The original owner’s singing, dancing, and acting were mediocre at best, yet he somehow climbed to the top as a popular idol purely on the strength of his face.
Until one day, he offended someone by speaking carelessly. Targeted relentlessly, scandal after scandal surfaced, resources were snatched away, and his fame crumbled.
After a period of silence and with people gleefully kicking him while he was down, the ever-fast-changing entertainment industry moved on. Disappearing from the spotlight for even a short while, the original owner faded into obscurity and eventually had to leave the industry in defeat.
He was willing to give himself to Yu Zhi in exchange for the fulfillment of two wishes.
First: to rise to stardom again and dominate the entertainment world. The second…
“Those people hate that I’m pretty. They’re jealous that a flower vase could stand above them. They slander me, write fake scandals, claim I cozy up to powerful people behind the scenes. Those old men and women, ugly and creepy as they are, do they even deserve anyone’s attention? I’ll show them that if I have to kept by someone, I’ll make sure it’s top-tier freeloading!”
Yu Zhi twitched the corner of his mouth, unsure how to respond to a wish phrased like that. Glancing at the impulsive mission target in front of him, he suddenly felt a wave of reluctance, even a strange urge to abandon the task entirely and explore a new world.
“What were you doing just now in public?” Ji Xingyu’s friend asked, dragging him back into the corner, half exasperated. “Do you realize that if anyone saw or heard you, you’d instantly be headline news? The title would be: ⟬ Acting Icon Ji Xingyu Caught Forcing Sexual Favors in Public ⟭!”
Ji Xingyu lowered his brows and replied coldly, “So what? Haven’t they been slandering me enough already?”
“But this is different! This is real, there’s evidence, it’s not slander!” His friend ran his hands through his hair, the joy of the engagement vanished entirely, replaced with anxiety over his deranged friend.
He couldn’t understand how a normally composed person could lose control on the spot and declare intentions to coerce a stranger.
Suddenly, a thought struck him: “Who was that person just now? I hope you weren’t just making things up. What if he has connections? You don’t want to offend the wrong people.”
Ji Xingyu showed no concern. “Just a newly debuted rookie. Relax, nothing’s going to happen.”
He had seen pictures of the young man online before. Strangely, they hadn’t stirred anything in him, but seeing the boy just now made his heart race. A deep, almost instinctual sensation told him:
This person… is very much like him.
His friend, catching on a moment too late, watched him warily. “You’re not… giving up yet, are you?!”
“Problem?”
Yes. Huge problem.
“You didn’t used to do this. How come your style just… flipped overnight?”
Ji Xingyu glanced at him, slightly puzzled by his friend’s panic. “Weren’t you the one telling me, ‘There are plenty of fish in the sea, just find someone’?”
His friend: “…”
Yeah, but I didn’t mean for you to be so… swift, efficient, and brutal about it!
“This is Mr. Wang, Vice President of Hanhai Entertainment,” Chen Yue said, introducing the two parties.
“Mr. Wang, this is a new artist from our company, Yu Zhi. He’s always admired Hanhai’s productions, but he’s still young and didn’t want to impose,” the manager smiled politely, bridging the introduction.
Mr. Wang seemed disinterested. After a few perfunctory pleasantries, he added, “We’ll contact you if there’s a suitable opportunity,” and turned away to talk to someone else.
Chen Yue didn’t give up, eager to introduce Yu Zhi to more people.
A glass of water was placed in front of him.
The hand holding it was long, pale, and elegant. Under the glow of the brilliant, kaleidoscopic glass chandelier, the knuckles looked like carved jade.
“Drink some water and rest a bit,” Yu Zhi said calmly. His voice carried a quiet steadiness, a sense of unhurried reassurance.
Chen Yue took the glass and gulped it down in large sips. “Thank you.”
“No need to introduce anyone else. It doesn’t matter who it is; no one’s going to give a newcomer much of a chance anyway.” After all, these were high-ranking managers; who would bother caring whether a temporary employee was suitable?
“That won’t do. Opportunities are something you have to fight for yourself. If others fight for them and you don’t, then you get nothing,” Chen Yue said firmly. He still saw Yu Zhi as a complete rookie who knew nothing and needed guidance.
However, Yu Zhi responded calmly, “If I were in their position, I wouldn’t hand out opportunities lightly either; at least, not before seeing value. After all, a sure profit in someone else’s hands is still a big risk in mine. Why gamble on luck when guaranteed gains are right in front of me?”
Chen Yue blinked, stunned, and looked at Yu Zhi for a long moment. “I don’t know… you just seem… different all of a sudden.”
Yu Zhi smiled faintly. “I just suddenly feel I need to recognize my place. So far, the only advantage I can show, the only one they can see with their own eyes, is my face. Perhaps I can start developing from that.”
Since the original owner didn’t mind being labeled a flower vase, Yu Zhi didn’t mind using his face to make a start.
Yet Chen Yue’s gaze lingered on him, complicated and uneasy. After a long pause, he spoke quietly, “Are you trying to take a shortcut?”
Yu Zhi: “…”
He suddenly realized this guy’s brain probably ranked right up there with Ji Xingyu’s.
The only question was… who was a bit dumber?
Despite the remark, Chen Yue didn’t truly think Yu Zhi wanted a shortcut. After all, when they had signed him, Yu Zhi had already said he didn’t like anyone coveting his cucumber or chrysanthemum.
“Ugly bastards, don’t even think about it!” That had been the original owner’s exact words.
Yet Chen Yue never could have expected that just a couple of days after the party, someone would come knocking, explicitly expressing interest in Yu Zhi and wanting to take things further.
And this someone… was the last person he would have guessed: International Acting Icon Ji Xingyu.
Chen Yue was flustered and went straight to Yu Zhi to relay the news.
Yu Zhi raised an eyebrow. So Ji Xingyu wasn’t just talking at the party, he actually tracked down the company?
Looks like he’d have to meet him in person.
Meanwhile, Ji Xingyu, having learned of the news, allowed a faint smile to touch his face. “Wants to see me, huh?”
Alright, fine. Given how much the boy resembled someone else… he’d meet him.
They arranged to meet at a hotel with excellent privacy.
Ji Xingyu had been waiting there since early morning. He had no idea how long he’d been standing there before he finally heard the door open. Looking up, he saw the young man arrive, just as he expected.
He tugged at the corner of his lips. “So, you came.”
“Have you finally come to your senses?” he asked with a smile, his gaze aggressive and unapologetically direct.
Yu Zhi stepped forward and sat on the sofa.
“May I ask… why are you so insistent, Mr. Ji? And what would you do if I refused?” Yu Zhi looked at Ji Xingyu carefully, trying to analyze his personality, figure out his approach, and determine how best to handle him.
Yet, despite himself, his eyes kept drifting to the earrings on the other man’s ears.
It was a black diamond stud. The diamond was shaped like a star.
Yu Zhi’s gaze flickered for a moment.
Shaking off the distraction, he focused fully on Ji Xingyu again.
Ji Xingyu sneered lightly. “Whatever I do, I don’t need to explain it to anyone.”
“You don’t agree? That’s fine. I can find other ways to make you agree.”
Dealing with a rookie like him wouldn’t take much effort.
Yu Zhi could easily read between the lines, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Seems this time, the mission target isn’t obedient. Ordinary methods won’t suffice.
Seeing Yu Zhi silent, Ji Xingyu thought: So this is fear? Truly just an inexperienced kid.
He pondered if he had been too harsh and was about to speak again when a low chuckle interrupted him.
“In that case, it seems I have no reason to refuse.”
Yu Zhi smiled and began reviewing the documents Ji Xingyu had long since prepared and placed on the coffee table.
It was a sponsorship contract. Yu Zhi glanced casually at the terms, then signed it.
Ji Xingyu’s satisfaction deepened. This kid wasn’t only perceptive, he had some sense of decorum.
Since the other party was so obedient, he figured he ought to offer a little reward in return.
He opened his mouth to speak, but then saw Yu Zhi pull out a notebook and look at him, asking, “I remember, Mr. Ji, you said earlier that I should recognize my place. Yet now… am I being treated as someone else’s substitute?”
Ji Xingyu’s eyes darkened, a cold laugh slipping past his lips. “What, you don’t want to?”
Yu Zhi gave a faint, composed smile and shook his head. “Not at all. I just wanted to ask what exactly makes me resemble the person in your mind.”
Ji Xingyu raised a brow in surprise. His gaze on Yu Zhi was unmistakably intrigued.
He had assumed the resemblance was purely superficial, yet the rookie’s diligence extended even to this level of awareness.
He considered for a moment, then said, “Your eyes are very similar. Your face shape, your lips, even your smile, they all resemble him.”
“…Actually, you already resemble him enough.” No further effort was necessary.
After all, no one could ever be exactly like that person.
Yu Zhi looked at him briefly, composed his expression, and closed his notebook. His tone was cool, almost dismissive: “I think you may be mistaken, Mr. Ji.”
“I was just thinking of starting with a plastic surgery first.”
“I wouldn’t want to desecrate your white moonlight.”
Ji Xingyu: “…”
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