Moonlit: Happy 100th chapter, everyone!~
Zuo Ning’s character wasn’t exactly tragic, but it was still somewhat tragic. He was powerful, loyal, and valued emotions and brotherhood. Back when the role was being cast, there was fierce competition for it. If it weren’t for Lu Chenghe backing him and bringing a hefty amount of resources into the production, and if his appearance hadn’t perfectly matched the director’s vision, there was no way he would’ve landed the third male lead. With such a likable role, as long as he didn’t act out, it was inevitable that the audience would take a liking to him.
Sure enough, after the premiere, aside from the male and female leads, the most talked-about topic was the deity Zuo Ning played. That figure dressed in white, standing amidst a sea of fiery red flowers, cool and aloof, yet enchanting, completely bewitched a crowd of face fans who couldn’t pull themselves away.
Zuo Ning’s agent, Bei Xiao, had already laid out a plan in advance and kicked into action once the post-premiere buzz took off. But the timing and extent had to be carefully controlled. If the hype overshadowed the male and female leads, it would offend the wrong people, especially since both leads were top-tier A-listers in the industry, not some newcomers. So Bei Xiao promoted Zuo Ning while also subtly holding him back, keeping his popularity just within the top ten—a perfect balance.
Another major summer release caught fire. On the day of its premiere, box office sales soared past 100 million. Zuo Ning didn’t ask about the specific numbers, though online rumors were saying it broke 300 or even 400 million—those figures were likely exaggerated and unreliable. Still, it was certain that the movie performed well. After all, the director had a solid reputation, and most of the cast were skilled actors. With fans drawn in just for those actors alone, there was no way the film would flop.
If Zuo Ning were someone who genuinely wanted to rise through the entertainment industry, things would be much easier for Bei Xiao. With so many premium resources at hand, it would be nearly impossible for him not to become famous. But unfortunately, Zuo Ning saw the industry purely as a job. He simply wanted to act, so certain things needed to be carefully planned.
Nowadays, what truly brings traffic in the industry is appearing on all kinds of variety shows. Just doing a couple during the promotional period would naturally boost one’s popularity. But Zuo Ning wasn’t interested in fame and even refused those promotional appearances. That left them with only one option: to continuously deliver high-quality projects and stay active on screen through solid work.
Bei Xiao, currently flipping through scripts for him, was getting a serious headache. With looks like his, why insist on relying on talent? The problem was, the acting coach who privately tutored Zuo Ning said his acting still needed refinement. The only good thing was that he had some natural sensitivity, some innate gift that could be shaped. So the script had to be chosen carefully. Not too demanding on acting skills, as his little artist couldn’t meet such high standards yet, but also not too easy, or it would be like digging their own grave.
And while Bei Xiao’s eyes were spinning from script-hunting, that kid, who was the one whose future was on the line, wasn’t even worried a bit about his career development. He opened his mouth and asked directly about the pay.
Bei Xiao looked at him and asked in confusion, “Are you in urgent need of money?”
He didn’t think Zuo Ning would be short on cash. If anything, the one thing Lu Chenghe definitely wasn’t lacking was money.
Zuo Ning lay sprawled on the table and sighed quietly. “Yeah, I’m broke. Broke to death.”
Bei Xiao chuckled lightly. “Your pay is given in three installments. The first two have already been settled, and the final payment should be arriving soon.”
The moment Zuo Ning heard that, he immediately exclaimed, “But I haven’t seen any money! How much is it?”
Bei Xiao replied, “You weren’t famous at the time. That role was something you actually paid to get, so the salary was mostly symbolic. Not much—just around a million or so. The check was handed directly to me, and I gave it to your Lu Chenghe. You can ask him for the details.”
Hearing this, Zuo Ning got upset and grumbled, “Why’d you give it to him?! That’s my paycheck! Shouldn’t it be given to me?!”
“But he’s your legal guardian in name. As long as he gives the word, I can hand your future payments directly to you.”
Zuo Ning sighed again. Lu Chenghe would never take his money. Even if he had the check, he probably just deposited it straight into Zuo Ning’s bank account. It was money he had earned by working hard in front of the camera, and yet he hadn’t even seen the corner of the check before it turned into a string of digits in the bank. It always felt like something was missing.
Bei Xiao laid a few selected scripts in front of him. “These look pretty good to me. Take a look yourself. There are both films and TV dramas. The films might not have the same scale as the one currently screening, but they’re directed by reputable names with real skill. The dramas are more about building popularity. They’re definitely less demanding than films and will be easier to shoot. In any case, it’s up to you.”
After that, Bei Xiao gave him a further breakdown: “I don’t need to waste words explaining the difference between film and TV work. The prestige isn’t the same. Once someone makes it to the big screen, as long as resources allow, they rarely go back to the small screen. Your debut work was a feature film, and it did well at the box office—that’s already a high starting point. But your current popularity isn’t exactly stable. In terms of future opportunities, you won’t need to worry. What you’re lacking now is experience and visibility. If you were someone determined to become famous, I’d definitely recommend going with another film. But since you only treat this as a job you can take or leave, how you choose depends entirely on what path you want to walk from here.”
Zuo Ning pulled the stack of scripts Bei Xiao had picked out for him over to his side, then lowered his chin onto them and continued lying on the table in a daze.
Bei Xiao reached out to smooth down a stubborn tuft of hair sticking up at the back of Zuo Ning’s head. “Are you really short on money? If you are and you don’t want to ask Lu Chenghe for help, why not sell the outfit you’re wearing now? Just the watch on your wrist could fetch a pretty good amount.”
Zuo Ning turned his head to look at him. “Tell me. What kind of gift should I give Lu Chenghe?”
“A gift? For his birthday?”
Zuo Ning nodded.
Bei Xiao laughed and shook his head. “If it’s from you, even a rock picked up from the side of the road would make him happy.”
Zuo Ning let out a sigh. “I already gave him a rock.” Though it wasn’t for his birthday. He hadn’t joined the Lu family yet during Lu Chenghe’s last birthday, so he missed the occasion. Ever since then, he’d been racking his brain trying to think of the perfect gift. Expensive things, handmade things, things with or without value—he’d considered them all. He even half-jokingly thought of tying a ribbon around himself and giving himself as the gift.
Bei Xiao couldn’t help the twitch at the corner of his mouth. He really gave him a rock. He had only been speaking casually. Glancing out at the blue sky and fluffy clouds, he felt completely at a loss when it came to understanding young people these days.
Seeing that his agent didn’t have anything else for him to do, Zuo Ning took the scripts and left. Before leaving, he didn’t forget to remind Bei Xiao to keep it a secret. Don’t tell Lu Chenghe that he was racking his brain over what gift to get him.
He originally planned to stroll around the streets for a bit, to see if inspiration for a gift might strike. But as he wandered with a cup of cola in hand, more and more people started noticing him. He even caught snippets of whispers about his movie character from nearby passersby.
The film had only been out for two days, and Zuo Ning had boldly walked the streets thinking no one would recognize him yet. Turns out, someone did. Especially in this hot weather, he wasn’t wearing a cap, mask, or sunglasses—the standard celebrity disguise—so he was basically out in the open, on full display.
Seeing those people clearly starting to walk toward him, Zuo Ning immediately turned around and slipped away as fast as he could.
He ran all the way to Lu Chenghe’s office. Soaked in sweat and without the slightest bit of decorum, he yanked off his T-shirt to wipe his sweat, then collapsed on the office sofa, panting like a fish about to suffocate. After resting for a bit, he finally caught his breath. Noticing that Lu Chenghe was looking down at some documents and paying him no attention, Zuo Ning dove in front of him and exclaimed, “Lu Chenghe! I think I’m famous now!”
Lu Chenghe looked up at him. “Mm, you do look a bit hot from the sun.”
That fair, almost glowing soft body of his had become more toned from the daily runs Lu Chenghe forced him to do. He hadn’t quite reached the level of bulky muscle, but he now had faint abs forming on his lower stomach. Now, returning from outside covered in sweat with his cheeks flushed red, Lu Chenghe couldn’t help but have the phrase “a feast for the eyes” flash through his mind.
Zuo Ning slapped the desk in protest. “Not that kind of hot! Just now, I was walking down the street, and it seemed like someone recognized me. Some people even chased me for two blocks! If I hadn’t been fast, I almost wouldn’t have gotten away! The movie’s only been out two days, and I didn’t even go to any of the promo events, and I still got recognized. Looks like I really am suited for this industry. I’m just naturally destined for fame hahahahahahaha!”
Lu Chenghe picked up his shirt and tossed it over Zuo Ning’s head. “Go shower. You reek of sweat.”
Zuo Ning pulled the shirt off his head, lifted his arm, and sniffed—didn’t smell bad at all. Seeing Lu Chenghe already back to reading his files, Zuo Ning flopped onto him and rubbed against him a bit. “You smell nice. I’ll just rub on you and get your scent.”
Just as Lu Chenghe raised a hand—unclear whether he was about to grab him or tickle him—Zuo Ning grabbed his clothes and ran off into the side room, trailing a string of smug laughter behind him.
Lu Chenghe tidied the shirt collar that Zuo Ning had rumpled. The person had already left, but it felt like some lingering trace of his presence still clung to the air. Lu Chenghe stared at the documents in front of him for a long while, but not a single word went into his head. He rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. Just how did he end up stuck with a little devil like this? What a headache.
As soon as Zuo Ning entered the room, he began stripping off his pants. Once in the bathroom, he started washing up while humming a tuneless melody. The echo effect of the bathroom made him feel like his singing actually sounded pretty decent. If singing weren’t more exhausting than acting, he felt like he could release an album. Those singers, aside from rehearsing the same song over and over in the studio, also had to sing it again every time they appeared on a show. No matter how much you love a song, after singing it hundreds or thousands of times, you’d be sick of it. Acting was still better. You were constantly experiencing something new.
After enjoying a comfortable shower and changing into a fresh set of clothes, Zuo Ning considerately didn’t go bother Lu Chenghe, who was still working. Instead, he dove straight onto the small bed and stretched out lazily with satisfaction. He picked up his phone, planning to scroll through Weibo for a bit. The Weibo account linked to his phone now was his own, which he had only just recently opened. Up to now, he had only reposted a few official announcements. Zuo Ning thought, Since someone recognized me today, maybe my follower count has gone up quite a bit too.
But the moment he opened his phone and saw the photo on his lock screen, a sudden spark of inspiration struck Zuo Ning. He knew what gift to give Lu Chenghe!
