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Join the ServerA minute later, the head fan of Shen Chao’s millions of followers reposted the behind-the-scenes clip:
[“I can do it, I’m capable, I surrender to the Mute and Teacher Su!! I’m swooning, I’m fainting, oh my god!!! Emperor Chao (Shen Chao’s fan moniker) called someone ‘Teacher’!!!! Where’s the bed scene!!!! This Empress demands to see Emperor Chao’s bed scene!! (Bangs on the bed.GIF) Oh, Emperor Chao’s sexy back muscles!”]
A massive stir erupted within Shen Chao’s fan groups, with fans criticizing the ‘lust-addled’ (?) head fan for failing to do their job properly. Yet, after screaming tens of thousands of messages in the group over the one-minute clip, Shen Chao’s fans generously forgave the head fan.
Desire, after all, is simply human nature.
Immediately after, a bombshell dropped from an account with nearly 100 million followers—Shen Chao himself reposted the clip, adding the caption:
[“This scene with Su Xuan took five takes to get right. It shouldn’t have been deleted.”]
A frantic fan left a comment below:
[“Brother posted on Weibo!! No?! You shot a kiss scene with him five times before it passed?! You’re kissing another man behind our backs!!!”]
Shen Chao’s Empress Dowager:
[“Emperor Chao, look, this app supports posting eighteen selfies….?! Shen Chao, you’re tainted!!! You kissed a man! You’re tainted!!!!”]
Emperor Chao’s Bed Baby:
[“Brother, I’m here!! I love you…. what the f*ck!!! Who is he!!! Shen Chao! When did someone else come between us!”]
Emperor Chao’s 108,953,74th Wife:
[“Brother, give us a clear answer. Why did you post this Weibo? If someone’s forcing you, just post a period, and we’ll immediately come to the Siheyuan to rescue you!!”]
Shen Chao’s personal repost sparked a chain reaction among his fans, who rushed to buy tickets.
Some of them had already realized that the company didn’t like the drama Shen Chao filmed—but Shen Chao himself loved it.
This was the first time Shen Chao had ever reposted a behind-the-scenes clip, and also the first time he had mentioned someone by their full name on Weibo.
At midnight on Sunday, advance ticket sales surpassed seven million. By 8 AM on Monday, they had exceeded ten million. The official Siheyuan Weibo posted:
[“Today is a good day for a movie. The show begins, see you there.”]
The accompanying image showed Shen Chao, headphones on, head bowed, engrossed in his script in a corner. Su Xuan was asleep on his shoulder, covered by a tattered vest. The rising sunlight brushed across Su Xuan’s lips, revealing an irrepressible arc of a smile.
Su Xuan gazed out at the dawn light. He reposted the message:
[“See you there.”]
At this point, his Weibo followers numbered 1.4 million, an increase of over 400,000.
The director of the third-rate production called Su Xuan.
“Su Xuan, you won’t need to film after today. What’s your next project?”
This was an attempt to gauge his intentions, and Su Xuan answered candidly, “I don’t know. I’ll see what roles come my way.”
The director hesitated, then said, “Well, it’s like this. You shouldn’t have been in my crew in the first place. My crew isn’t exactly top-tier. You know Fu Mu from your company, right? The one nicknamed ‘Little Shen Chao’? He’s the one who recommended you to me. He probably doesn’t like you much. I won’t say more, just be careful yourself.”
The director sighed. “In ‘Siheyuan,’ you played that widow—no, that young master. You’re about to become popular, and popularity brings trouble.”
Su Xuan empathized, “Indeed. A widow’s door is often a hotbed of gossip. A popular widow like me will attract even more trouble.”
The director was momentarily speechless.
The director let out an awkward laugh. “So, you know we call you ‘widow’ behind your back?”
Su Xuan took it in stride. “It’s fine. When you call me a widow, you’re cursing Shen Chao, not me. I don’t mind. Just don’t let him hear you. But I have a big mouth, so I’ll be careful not to tell him in the future.”
The director was speechless once more.
He felt as though he had been threatened.
Su Xuan hung up the phone and went to film as usual. He didn’t have many scenes, finishing everything by three in the afternoon. The crew members, who normally couldn’t be bothered to even roll their eyes at him, now tearfully claimed they would miss him and insisted on treating Su Xuan to a wrap-up dinner, completely ignoring the male lead.
The male lead was furious, which greatly pleased Liu Pangpang. He remarked that the male lead was running around the set like a mad turkey.
Su Xuan politely declined the crew’s invitation.
With a casual air, Su Xuan bought a movie ticket. He didn’t even bother with sunglasses or a hat, planning to rewatch ‘Siheyuan’ in the cinema.
After watching ‘Siheyuan’ again in the cinema, Su Xuan felt significantly more at peace.
He needed to analyze and dissect the ambiguity within the film’s shots by himself, distinguishing what was Shen Chao’s acting from what was Shen Chao’s genuine emotion.
Regrettably, too much had been cut. Fortunately, however, in the remaining film, Shen Chao held no love for him.
But Su Xuan could see the affection in his own eyes within the movie, not the Third Young Master’s for the Mute, but Su Xuan’s for Shen Chao.
As Su Xuan walked to the front desk after the movie, he noticed someone wearing a black mask and a baseball cap, signing autographs for the staff.
Su Xuan recognized the person at a glance. He had intended to pretend not to see him and leave directly—he now felt an awkwardness around Shen Chao that made his toes curl and tear through his socks. But Shen Chao seemed to have eyes on the back of his head. Before he even finished signing, he called out faintly without lifting his head, “Su Xuan.”
Shen Chao stood up, hands in the pockets of his tracksuit, and looked directly at him. “Have you finished watching?”
Su Xuan slowly realized that Shen Chao had specifically come to find him. He sighed, “Yes, I have. You… what do you need me for?”
Shen Chao was quite familiar with some of Su Xuan’s habits; after all, they had worked together. Su Xuan typically rewatched his own films at a nearby cinema on the first day of release. This was the closest cinema to Yezi Media, so it wasn’t difficult for Shen Chao to find him.
Shen Chao gazed at him. “Four years ago, I asked if you wanted to leave with me. You said no. Now your contract with Yezi Media is almost up. Are you leaving or not?”
Su Xuan’s expression faded. His fingers dug into his palm as he averted his gaze, avoiding eye contact with Shen Chao. “To Star Culture? No.”
Shen Chao frowned. “Your acting is excellent. If you come over, I can give you—”
Su Xuan’s lips pressed down momentarily before he forced them into a smile. He said, “Roles, resources, traffic, the best agent… Is there anything else? Shen Chao, you should know why I won’t leave.”
Shen Chao fell silent for a minute. “The distribution of ‘Siheyuan’ is handled by Yezi Media. You were waiting for ‘Siheyuan’ to be released.”
“Now ‘Siheyuan’ has already been released…” Shen Chao’s words gradually faded under Su Xuan’s gaze. His lips thinned into a straight line. “Are you not leaving for the same reason as before?”
Su Xuan stared directly at Shen Chao, then after a moment, lowered his eyes and smiled. “Thank you for your appreciation, CEO Shen. Let me think about it.”
As Su Xuan finished speaking, he turned to leave. Shen Chao suddenly reached out and gripped Su Xuan’s wrist. “…Su Xuan, are you really not leaving?”
Shen Chao’s breathing was slightly ragged, but he quickly suppressed it, appearing calm. “I can give you—”
Su Xuan pulled his hand free and walked away without looking back. “No.”
When Shen Chao left Yezi Media over three years ago, he had suggested taking Su Xuan with him. However, Su Xuan refused, because Shen Chao’s reason was that he wanted Su Xuan to continue acting with him—this was after Su Xuan’s confession had been rejected.
Su Xuan had declined, saying he wanted to wait until ‘Siheyuan’ was released to see. At that time, Star Culture was also just starting up and might not have been Su Xuan’s best next move. Shen Chao ultimately didn’t force him.
Moreover, the way Shen Chao wanted to take him along felt, to Su Xuan, though he didn’t want to put it this way, very much like being a tool.
‘I can have a crush on you,’ Su Xuan thought, ‘but being a tool? No, that’s an insult.’
Su Xuan still remembered how, near the end of filming, he had rested his head on Shen Chao’s shoulder. Sunlight slanted from Shen Chao’s head into his eyes. As Director Liu called “Action,” Shen Chao lowered his head and kissed his brow, a defiant, piercing kiss, sparkling with youthful affection.
It was a beautiful memory.
But if he was just a tool for kissing or acting opposite him, it lost all meaning.
Su Xuan walked out of the cinema. Liu Pangpang called, his tone cautious. “Su Xuan, let me ask you something. If, if your treatment improves, would you renew your contract?”
Su Xuan gripped his phone. “Has someone approached you about my contract renewal?”
Liu Pangpang’s voice was complex. “It’s like this: Yezi Media plans to promote you and Fu Mu to the same tier, but for a ten-year renewal. Will you sign?”
“The box office for ‘Siheyuan’ has passed 76 million. Su Xuan, you’re about to become popular. Yezi wants to tie you down.”
Su Xuan countered, “I’m popular, and you don’t seem too happy about it?”
Su Xuan’s words exposed Liu Pangpang’s complicated thoughts. “…Sigh, I want you to be popular, but if you get too popular, I won’t be able to keep up, and you’ll definitely leave. I just found out that seven or eight companies in the industry are interested in signing you.”
Su Xuan, hailing a taxi, continued his call with Liu Pangpang. “Do you think it’s better for me to leave, or to stay?”
Liu Pangpang answered honestly, “There are pros and cons to both. Yezi is like a starved camel, still bigger than a horse, but not by much. They could certainly push you to stardom with a top-tier resource. However, you and Fu Mu are rivals, the higher-ups aren’t very clear-headed, and there’s a lot of messy business. You’d need to stay sharp and not get dragged into a pit. I can’t guarantee other companies have less drama than Yezi, but the short-term benefits would definitely be better. You’re already twenty-six; if you don’t make a big splash, it’ll be hard to break through.”
Su Xuan asked, “If Star Culture wants to sign me, do you think I should go?”
Liu Pangpang gasped in shock. “Star Culture?! No, what kind of contract?”
He quickly regained his composure. “Their company primarily promotes Shen Chao, followed by Wang Muzhe, who takes the powerful actor route. Their film and TV resources are good, but the main male lead roles are all taken by those two. You’d be a small fish there, and it would take at least fifty or sixty years to make it to the top.”
‘Fifty or sixty’ was an exaggeration, but not entirely baseless. Competition at Star Culture was fierce. They didn’t start with long-term contracts; it was all short-term routes. Only after someone broke through would they sign a long-term contract. Idols and actors without immediate highlights would be quickly eliminated, a survival-of-the-fittest approach. Moreover, Shen Chao didn’t like mentoring newcomers and had risen aggressively through performance-based contracts, making the entire company’s atmosphere extremely cutthroat.
Liu Pangpang summarized simply, “It’s not suitable for an ‘elderly person’ like you. Who extended this olive branch to you? They think too highly of you.”
Su Xuan looked out at the Yezi Media sign through the car window and signaled the driver to stop. “Shen Chao.”
Liu Pangpang was stunned.
Liu Pangpang exclaimed, “Damn it! The boss invited you! Su Xuan, then go!”
The excitement doesn't stop here! If you enjoyed this, you’ll adore I Just Wanted An Ordinary Life This Time. Start reading now!
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