Chapter 2: The Price of a First Love and an Unforeseen Release

At that time, Shen Chao had just received his university admission letter. It was from a top-ranked university in the country.

Still clad in his school uniform, he had rushed over to attend the celebration banquet. He appeared even more youthful and handsome than his character in *From Now On*, with a cool expression that carried a hint of arrogance.

Upon hearing Su Xuan’s stammering confession, Shen Chao merely raised an eyebrow, then let it fall. He calmly and politely refused, “Senior, don’t get too deeply into character.”

Su Xuan’s heart plummeted, much like the eighteen-year-old Shen Chao’s falling eyebrow. It landed ever so softly on the ground with a faint thud, only to be swiftly retrieved by Su Xuan, who bent down, dusted it off, and nonchalantly placed it back into his chest.

Su Xuan chuckled in response, “Ah, it’s possible I got too deep into character… I hope we both achieve great success in the future.”

Yet, fate is unpredictable. Su Xuan was simply not destined for fame; even someone like Shen Chao, whose destiny was to explode into superstardom, couldn’t carry him along.

The autographed poster had cost Su Xuan ten thousand yuan, which he’d paid an industry friend to obtain. He had specifically instructed that Shen Chao sign that particular sentence.

For that one sentence, his friend demanded an additional eight thousand yuan. Even with the added eight thousand, the friend was hesitant, saying it wasn’t a guarantee and that if he couldn’t get it, he’d have to refund Su Xuan.

This was because Shen Chao disliked giving autographs, and was especially reluctant to sign long sentences.

However, Shen Chao must have been in a good mood that day, as he signed it for him. That evening, Su Xuan received the autographed poster, which had cost him eighteen thousand yuan.

He was both pained by the expense and so excited that he bounced around his bed. Yet, upon opening the news, he was bombarded with headlines: [Shen Chao and Liu Junya Suspected to Be Dating Due to Filming, Seen Holding Hands on Campus].

The accompanying photos were blurry, requiring fluorescent markers to highlight the male and female leads and label their names.

Liu Junya was the other lead in *From Now On*, barely twenty years old and fresh as a dewdrop. Standing just over 1.6 meters tall, she made for the perfect ‘most adorable height difference’ next to Shen Chao.

After a moment, Su Xuan dialed his friend. “Hey, that poster I just asked you for, can I return it?”

“?????” his friend exclaimed in astonishment. “Why? You know Shen Chao’s autograph is worth a lot, especially a long sentence like ‘You are my impetuous eighteen.'”

Su Xuan sighed, “Exactly. Ugh, I feel like I fed my 18K to a dog.”

Who could have guessed that his 18K first love and 18K genuine affection, as a gay man, would be wasted on a straight man like Shen Chao?

This wasn’t Shen Chao’s first scandal. He had as many rumored girlfriends as he had hit dramas. After half a year of quiet, the handsome male lead in *From Now On* had rekindled Su Xuan’s ‘boyfriend fan’ heart, only for it to be swiftly crushed.

‘Ugh, industry dogs aren’t meant to chase stars.’

Eighteen thousand yuan was no small sum for Su Xuan. He quickly regretted his impulsive purchase. To recoup his losses, Su Xuan listed the large poster on Xianyu.

Shen Chao’s autographed posters were hot commodities, easily selling for thirty thousand yuan or more, but Su Xuan wasn’t that greedy. He listed it for fifteen thousand.

The three thousand yuan difference was a memorial to his departed first love.

He had also already displayed the poster, so a used poster could only be considered 80% new. When he listed it on Xianyu, his friend saw it and came to find Su Xuan.

After hearing Su Xuan’s theory about memorializing his first love and the poster only being 80% new, his friend laughed until tears streamed down his face.

[You do the math. A 100% new poster is eighteen thousand, meaning each 10% loss in newness is eighteen hundred. Two levels of loss would be thirty-six hundred. But you memorialized your first love and listed it for fifteen thousand. So, what’s the price of your first love? Think about it, really think about it.]

Su Xuan frowned. He opened his calculator and meticulously computed: “…My first love is -600????? No way, my first love can’t be a money-loser! Two levels of loss means 80% new, so it should be listed for fourteen thousand four hundred… That’s too unlucky, isn’t it? Who the hell would buy that!”

If he listed it at that price, he’d be accused of being an anti-fan of Shen Chao!

His friend, convulsing with laughter, kindly reassured him: [It’s okay, just list it for fifteen thousand. Your first love might be a money-loser, but overall, you gained six hundred! You lost love, but it’s alright, you still have money!]

Su Xuan: “…”

He felt that something was wrong, but couldn’t quite articulate it. Mainly, his first love still ended up being a loss.

It didn’t matter if his first love was a loss, as long as acting brought in money.

Su Xuan took a deep breath, rubbing his throbbing temples, which pulsed from exhaustion. He prepared to go over his lines again.

As an actor at the bottom of the production crew, easily replaceable, if he couldn’t even remember his lines, he was beyond saving. Forgetting lines and ad-libbing were privileges reserved for big stars.

Su Xuan didn’t have that right, not even if he worked himself to unconsciousness, let alone sudden death.

To live the glamorous life of the entertainment industry like a corporate drone was truly unique. Su Xuan found joy in his suffering, thinking, ‘At least I’ve confessed to Shen Chao face-to-face. That counts as a professional perk.’

Su Xuan gazed at the glaring computer screen, where various marketing ads constantly popped up. He followed many industry websites, so the ads mostly consisted of celebrity promotions.

Bright and dazzling, they flashed before him like a revolving lantern, their layered light and shadows reflecting in his tired eyes. He didn’t close them, merely sighing in a daze, “Being famous is truly wonderful.”

Fame was originally just a color, but in the entertainment industry, it had evolved into a resplendent state, a universally coveted desire intertwined with money and status, gilded with wealth.

Those within it might not fully appreciate its allure, but those who hadn’t attained it yearned for it. Everyone wanted to be famous, for a myriad of reasons: for money, for favor, for ideals, for admiration.

Su Xuan also wanted to be famous, because the person he liked was the most famous. He also wanted to know what fame tasted like, watching Shen Chao become increasingly brilliant and dazzling in his eyes, constantly oscillating between fandom and romance.

Suddenly, an advertisement on his desktop expanded and highlighted in red, popping up: —SHOCKING! Rumor-ridden Shen Chao actually debuted in a gay film?! True or False?

Su Xuan was startled awake by the headline. He usually disdained clicking on such sensational titles, assuming they were mostly clickbait. But despite his thoughts, his hand honestly clicked on it.

Even if it was just clickbait, if it concerned Shen Chao, Su Xuan was willing to let them trick him. Even for such trashy marketing accounts, Shen Chao had to have the hottest readership.

However, upon clicking, something was immediately amiss. A fierce photo of Shen Chao pinning him by the throat on a bed rushed into view. Clothes disheveled, the situation ambiguous, breaths intertwined, high-definition and explicit.

It was eighteen thousand times clearer than the previous photos of Liu Junya and Shen Chao’s rumored romance, causing Su Xuan’s pupils to contract. Only four stark red words filled his mind: ‘Ironclad Proof!’

‘He can’t escape!’

‘How could this be!’

‘These are stills from *The Courtyard House*. *The Courtyard House* didn’t pass censorship, so these photos shouldn’t have been released! This is illegal!’

Su Xuan’s mind, muddled from staying up all night, was in a haze. For a moment, he thought of calling the State Administration of Radio, Film and Television to report it. Then, he felt he should call the director of *The Courtyard House* to explain.

Otherwise, if this stayed online for one night, with Shen Chao’s level of fame, it would immediately cause a storm of controversy. Before he could figure out who to call first, his phone rang.

Su Xuan glanced at the screen. It was Liu Pangpang, his agent, who dreamed of Su Xuan becoming famous. Su Xuan answered, and Liu Pangpang was crying so hard he could barely speak.

“Xuan, your luck has arrived! *The Courtyard House* has passed censorship! It’s premiering next Monday in eighteen cinemas nationwide!”

Su Xuan was stunned for a very long time before he asked, bewildered, “What day is it today?”

Liu Pangpang let out a sob, replying, “Thursday.”

—There were only three days left until *The Courtyard House*’s highly anticipated premiere.

At six o’clock on Thursday morning, the lights in the publicity department of Star Culture Media had been on all night.

Star Culture was a major new company in the industry, jointly invested in by several leading corporations. These companies all shared one commonality: they had no shortage of money.

The manager of Star Culture had lured Shen Chao away with a five percent stake. At that time, Shen Chao was already a massive star. He had amicably parted ways with his former agency, Yezi Culture Media, and officially joined Star Culture.

Concurrently, Star Culture’s manager used Shen Chao as a betting asset, proposing a gambling agreement to several leading companies and others interested in acquiring shares in Star Culture.

If Shen Chao could generate one billion yuan for Star Culture within three years, these companies would further finance and expand Star Culture. If Shen Chao succeeded, he would then receive fifteen percent equity in Star Culture, totaling twenty percent of the controlling shares, making him a shareholder.

This year, the final year of the agreement, from Now On was mid-run, and Shen Chao’s individual profits had already reached a staggering 1.4 billion yuan, vastly exceeding the target ahead of schedule.

As a reward, and with Shen Chao’s contract with Star Culture nearing its expiration, his victory in the gambling agreement didn’t guarantee that this outstanding and clear-headed young man would remain with the company.

After various considerations, the other shareholders allocated another five percent of shares, hoping to retain Shen Chao, this money-making beast. Ultimately, Shen Chao acquired twenty-five percent of the shares and signed a renewal contract with Star Culture.

However, in the very next month after signing the renewal contract, Star Culture’s publicity department faced an unprecedented and severe challenge: Shen Chao’s early film, The Courtyard House, had passed censorship.

Upon learning the nature of the film, the publicity department quickly contacted the director, hoping that *The Courtyard House* would have a limited release or, ideally, not be released at all.

As compensation, they offered to provide the director with some resource advantages. Such a film would bring no benefit to the skyrocketing Shen Chao, only consuming his name and attaching some less-than-positive labels.

This was not what Star Culture wanted to see. Of course, it would be ideal if the film could win awards, but Shen Chao already had access to numerous art-house scripts from renowned directors that could contend for awards.

There was no need to gamble on a gay-themed film that had been banned for four years. If Shen Chao wished to pursue awards, the entire Star Culture would exert all its efforts to tailor scripts and vet production teams for him.

However, Shen Chao was still too young, only twenty-two, and faced many obstacles in winning awards, making success highly improbable. Therefore, the team’s current focus was not on this.

Last week, the publicity department heard the terrible news that *The Courtyard House* was to be released. They had been negotiating with the director of *The Courtyard House* for over a week.

But the director was incredibly stubborn—he wouldn’t have been willing to make a film like *The Courtyard House* four years ago in a less-than-lenient environment if he wasn’t, and he had persistently applied for re-censorship every year after it was banned.

Having finally secured its release, the obstinate director naturally wouldn’t give in easily. The negotiations, as expected, broke down. The director was even angered by the discussion, completely disregarding his past collaborations with Shen Chao.

He directly applied to cancel the pilot screening and demanded a nationwide release. Shen Chao’s name in the industry was practically synonymous with money.

Dozens of cinemas, hearing the news, rushed in, offering generous scheduling with over ten percent screen time, all vying to make a fortune from Shen Chao’s unconventional film, The Courtyard House.

The matter was settled. Many at Star Culture, having worked overtime for a week straight, were powerless to change the outcome. They could only brace themselves and prepare for the post-release publicity and damage control.

If Su Xuan knew that he was the reason everyone at a major industry company like Star Culture was pulling all-nighters with him, he wondered what he would think. Perhaps he would consider himself an extraordinary, yet obscure, celebrity.