Director Zhang and Zheng Dong initially assumed Gong Yue’s presence on set was just a casual day trip—coming to watch Ye Shanshan act and experience life on set. However, to their surprise, for the entire week that followed, every time Ye Shanshan came to the set, Mr. Gong was always by his side.
Ye Shanshan, meanwhile, strutted around like a proud second-in-command accompanying a boss on a patrol. Carrying roasted sweet potatoes and boiled peanuts wherever he went, he would immediately hand his snacks to Gong Yue whenever he saw Director Zhang or Xu Luoyang, wearing a smug expression that seemed to say, “Come on, try to take them!” Naturally, this behavior earned him quite a bit of disdain.
When Ye Shanshan went to film, Gong Yue would find a fixed spot to sit down. Usually, an invisible “no-man’s land” would form with him as the center. Only when Ye Shanshan smiled at him during breaks in filming did his expression noticeably soften.
Every time Xu Luoyang saw this, he felt as though he was constantly being smacked in the face by invisible dog food.
At first, when Ye Shanshan and Xu Luoyang were off filming, some actresses would seize the opportunity to accidentally drop something near Gong Yue’s feet. Flustered, they would rush over to apologize with bashful, flirtatious expressions while others around discreetly observed.
However, Gong Yue didn’t even lift an eyelid. Instead, he gestured to the bodyguard standing behind him, who promptly escorted the actress—along with her dropped belongings—off the set. From that moment on, she was never seen again, not just on this set but in the entire entertainment industry.
This incident sent shockwaves through the crew. Everyone seemed to collect their thoughts and started giving Gong Yue a wide berth. Even Ye Shanshan’s surroundings became significantly quieter.
Director Zhang, carrying a megaphone clipped to his side, chatted with Zheng Dong. “I have to say, Mr. Gong is a true stabilizing force. If every set were as peaceful as this one, my shooting speed would rival that of a fighter jet!”
Zheng Dong, peeling a peanut and popping it into his mouth, replied, “Director Zhang, I think we all need to keep our feet on the ground and be a bit more honest in our remarks.”
“…”
On the eighth day, Ye Shanshan showed up at the set alone early in the morning.
Director Zhang kept glancing behind him, puzzled when he saw no one. “Where’s Mr. Gong? Is he coming later today?”
“He’s gone abroad,” Ye Shanshan replied listlessly. Even sucking on a lollipop couldn’t lift his spirits. His tone was so deflated that before Director Zhang could respond, he shoved the brown paper bag of roasted sweet potatoes and boiled peanuts into his hands.
“Protection fee,” he declared before wandering off to the dressing room like a wisp of smoke.
Looking down at the still-warm snacks and then at Ye Shanshan’s back, practically radiating resentment, Director Zhang suddenly felt that Gong Yue’s absence wasn’t entirely a bad thing.
When Ye Shanshan entered the dressing room, he found that Xu Luoyang had arrived earlier, already dressed and reading his script.
Hearing footsteps, Xu Luoyang looked up. “Mr. Gong didn’t come today?”
Hearing this, Ye Shanshan’s air of gloom thickened. He sat in the makeup chair, waiting for the stylist to fit his wig cap. “Mm. He went abroad for business. It’ll be several days before he comes back.”
Noticing Ye Shanshan’s low mood, Xu Luoyang set his script aside and came over with a “wise big brother” expression. “Shanshan, think about it. Even though Mr. Gong isn’t here, you still have me as your buddy!”
Ye Shanshan gave Xu Luoyang a glance in the mirror, then silently averted his gaze without comment.
Feeling wounded, Xu Luoyang was sure he could read a series of disdainful thoughts in Ye Shanshan’s expression: “Can you even compare?” “Are you on the same level?” “Disdainful face.” Resigned, he swiftly changed the topic.
“I’m going live later for about half an hour. The theme is something like ‘Behind the Scenes of the Set.’ You’ll probably appear on camera. Is that okay?”
Ye Shanshan shook his head. “He left me. What does anything else matter now?” he mumbled, then began humming the tune of “Little Cabbage.” The earworm was so strong that by the time Xu Luoyang noticed, he was unconsciously humming along too.
This is toxic!
Once Ye Shanshan’s makeup was nearly done, Xu Luoyang set up a selfie stick and turned on the camera. The live stream quickly drew nearly ten million viewers, and the scrolling comments were so dense they hurt the eyes.
Adjusting the distance, he greeted, “Hi, everyone. I’m Xu Luoyang, and today I’ll be live streaming from the set of Mountains and Rivers Remain the Same. Right now, I’m in the crew’s break room…”
While Xu Luoyang wandered around the room showing off the facilities, Ye Shanshan, lost in thought, received a message from Gong Yue saying he’d try to return within three days. Instantly, his mood brightened.
Just 4,320 minutes—totally bearable!
When Xu Luoyang called his name, Ye Shanshan turned around with a radiant smile, belatedly waving at the camera in greeting.
The fans in the live stream, who had been egging Xu Luoyang to show Ye Shanshan, were stunned by his smile.
“—My eyes! That smile! Aaaaaah, so beautiful!”
“—Sorry, Xu Luoyang, but I’m jumping ship to Ye Shanshan. That smile is blindingly gorgeous!”
“—As someone who usually camps out in Xu Luoyang’s streams, I’ve already taken a screenshot! Screensavers, come to me! DM me if you want one!”
When the camera moved away, Ye Shanshan re-read Gong Yue’s message several times, then stared at the small pendant on his phone, grinning foolishly. He reminded himself not to be entirely lost in beauty—he still needed to work hard and earn money.
After a fierce internal debate, he finally laid his script on the table, ready to dive into studying his role.
Noticing this, Xu Luoyang, knowing how focused Ye Shanshan was when reading scripts, gestured “shh” at the camera before quietly moving behind him with the selfie stick, trying to capture the moment.
Then, in the livestream, fans suddenly got a bird’s-eye view of Ye Shanshan dressed in his period costume, holding a Pikachu hot water bottle in his hands. His fingers playfully pinched Pikachu’s tail, while his feet tapped rhythmically to the tune he was humming.
“—I’ll bet two truckloads of spicy strips that Ye Shanshan is humming The Little Cabbage! No doubt about it because I’m already singing along! It’s so catchy!”
“—I wish I were that tail of the hot water bottle! His fingers are way too beautiful!”
Hearing that Ye Shanshan had appeared on Xu Luoyang’s livestream, a flood of fans flocked to join.
When Ye Shanshan noticed the strange shadow cast over his script, he looked up and accidentally locked eyes with his reflection on the phone screen.
Xu Luoyang, realizing he’d been caught, casually sat down next to him without a trace of awkwardness. “Let me introduce today’s special guest, Ye Shanshan. Flash, say hello to the fans.”
“Hello, everyone. I’m the guest dragged here against my will without any appearance fee, Ye Shanshan.”
Xu Luoyang couldn’t hold back and burst into a series of exaggerated silent laughs. He adjusted the angle to include them both in the frame and cleared his throat.
“That greeting doesn’t count—let’s ignore it. Just now, I was telling fans that we’d be drawing 200 lucky winners for small gifts. Flash, want to join in?”
“—Xu Luoyang! No appearance fee and you still want him to provide gifts? Where’s your conscience?”
“—Feeling bad for Flash. Luoyang, how could you?”
“—Pick me, pick me! Two heartthrobs in one frame, my happiness levels are off the charts!”
Ye Shanshan thought for a moment, and a brilliant idea came to him. “I just harvested some cabbages I planted. They’re perfect as prizes—pure, natural, and pollution-free. Want some?”
Xu Luoyang ruthlessly exposed him. “You just want to clear the cabbages out to make room to plant sweet potatoes, don’t you? No way! Pick something else.”
But when he glanced at the screen, he realized all the fans had already “betrayed” him.
“—Yes, yes, yes! Cabbages grown by a celestial being—bet they were watered with divine dew. Eating them might turn me into a fairy!”
“—Such down-to-earth charm! We want the cabbages!”
“—Who is this ‘someone at home’ Xu Luoyang mentioned earlier? Is it the rumored ‘Emperor’? I haven’t been able to sleep for days because of this!”
Ye Shanshan saw the phrase “someone at home” and sighed inwardly. That “someone at home” wasn’t even home; they’d flown away.
Feeling a little down, he pretended not to notice the question and continued explaining how to grow cabbages. In the limited time left, he managed to teach fans a “Crash Course on Cabbage Cultivation.”
After checking the time, Ye Shanshan said goodbye to the fans. Xu Luoyang grabbed his selfie stick and wandered off, presumably to film someone else.
Ye Shanshan’s first scene of the day involved his character, the Third Prince Ji Lingyun, who had arrived in the capital of Chu State with only one servant, living alone in the cold and quiet hostage manor.
Standing under the eaves and looking at the oppressive dark clouds gathering overhead, Ji Lingyun coughed weakly, his cheeks flushed. Tightening the cloak around him, he asked the servant beside him, “Did the message to my royal brother get sent out?”
“Your Highness, it has been sent. Would you like to go back inside? It’s so cold out here, and you’ve been coughing for so long without improvement.”
Ji Lingyun, looking somewhat fatigued, leaned against the dark red pillar, his gaze momentarily distant. Shaking his head, he said, “The house isn’t much warmer. Lying down all day just makes me feel useless.”
His tone carried a hint of self-mockery, his face pale with illness. After speaking, he broke into another violent coughing fit, tears streaming from the strain. He managed to steady himself against the pillar to avoid collapsing.
“Your Highness—”
His voice was faint and hoarse from the coughing. “Go prepare. We’ll be going out for the banquet soon.”
The servant hesitated but eventually nodded, concern etched on his face.
After the servant left, Ji Lingyun slumped down the pillar, one hand supporting himself, the other clutching his chest. His knuckles and veins stood out as he coughed uncontrollably. By the time he calmed down, he noticed blood on the back of his hand.
He stared at it blankly for a moment, then turned his gaze northward, his eyes filled with longing as he murmured,
“Royal Brother, I might not last until you arrive in Chu’s capital to fetch me.”
When Director Zhang called “Cut!” he rushed over. “What happened just now? I noticed something off with your hand.”
Ye Shanshan raised his hand, showing a bloody palm. “There was a hidden piece of metal on the ground. I pressed my hand on it and cut myself.”
Taking the gauze handed over by Zheng Dong, he cleaned the wound and reassured everyone, “It’s nothing serious, just a small cut. Let’s keep filming.”
The director, still worried, insisted, “Have the set doctor take a look later. But your performance just now—especially the coughing—was phenomenal. It felt so real, even through the monitor.”
Ye Shanshan changed the subject with a smile. “By the way, did you add anything to the giveaway for Xu Luoyang’s livestream?”
“I did,” the director grinned mischievously. “I contributed 50 of his funniest behind-the-scenes photos for the prize pool.”
Ye Shanshan had to admit—when it came to pranks, the older generation truly had the upper hand!
During lunch, Ye Shanshan spent the break chatting animatedly on his phone, a stark contrast to his tired colleagues. Xu Luoyang, who had nearly finished eating, teased, “You’re still grinning from ear to ear. Is that ‘someone at home’ of yours being adorable again?”
Ye Shanshan, unable to hide his joy, gave a fake sigh. “Yes, they’re pouting about not wanting to eat and need coaxing.”
Xu Luoyang, who had overheard bits of the call, nearly spit out his seaweed soup. Clearly, it was Gong Yue doing all the coaxing!
Ye Shanshan’s evening scene was set by a lakeside pavilion. After receiving instructions from the director, he adjusted his expression and took his place.
But as soon as the cameras started rolling, his vision blurred. Before he could react, he lost his balance and fell straight into the water.
[mfn]If you enjoy my translations, you can show your support by leaving a comment or donating to my Ko-fi. It will be much appreciated. Thank you! -TL: YSIAD
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