Chapter 5: A Star’s Shadow

Liu Pangpang still managed to drag Su Xuan off for a full-body treatment. The trial screening for “The Courtyard” was set for Saturday, and Su Xuan’s severely sleep-deprived state certainly wasn’t fit for public appearance.

However, time was pressing, and Su Xuan also had to report to the film set on Friday. Consequently, he only received a comprehensive treatment for his upper body. For his lower body, Liu Pangpang became quite self-deprecating, declaring that Su Xuan wouldn’t need it anyway, so they should just leave it.

Su Xuan felt quite offended by this remark.

When he arrived at the film set on Friday, he immediately sensed a distinct change in the atmosphere. Many people kept glancing at him covertly, as if observing a rare animal. Su Xuan was quite familiar with such gazes.

He and the rest of the crew had previously looked at the male lead with the same kind of scrutiny—an appraising stare that seemed to question: ‘What kind of person could possibly be co-starring with Shen Chao?’

As fate would have it, the tables had turned, and now others were casting the same look upon Su Xuan. Their silent question was: ‘What kind of person is capable of co-starring with Shen Chao in a male-lead, gay-themed drama?’

Su Xuan pretended not to notice, continuing to act when he was supposed to, and operating the excavator when it was his turn. Eventually, the director secretly approached him after filming concluded, asking if he wanted to revise Su Xuan’s character setting. Before Su Xuan could respond, the ‘tough guy’ male lead merely scoffed, bumped Su Xuan’s shoulder, and walked away.

‘Changing the script?’ Su Xuan asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. This was the first time in four years a director had asked him such a question. ‘How would we change it? Could I have the male lead drive an excavator?’

The male lead, who was just ahead, paused. ‘…’

The director was speechless. ‘…’

Forcing a smile, the director managed, ‘Little Su, that wouldn’t be logical… Most people wouldn’t film it that way.’

Su Xuan nodded empathetically. ‘I agree. A normal person’s mind wouldn’t conceive of such a thing.’

The director fell silent. ‘…’

The male lead was also quiet. ‘…’

Both felt subtly insulted.

Su Xuan walked away feeling refreshed, while the director, both awkward and expectant, specially excused him from coming in the next day, granting him a full day to attend the trial screening.

The trial screening wasn’t held in Hengcheng, but in the national cultural center—Yang City. Liu Pangpang had purchased tickets for a nine o’clock morning flight, with the screening scheduled to begin at six in the evening. Su Xuan and his manager arrived three hours early.

Lead actors for such large-scale trial screenings are usually either highly experienced or immensely popular, and consequently, very busy. It was rare for a lead to arrive so early. Upon his arrival, Su Xuan had his invitation scrutinized several times by security before he was allowed entry.

Conversely, the director arrived quite early. The moment he saw Su Xuan, his eyes lit up, and he quickly pulled Su Xuan to sit down. He began discussing matters related to the film and the careers of the other actors involved. Su Xuan responded with a seemingly calm demeanor, but in truth, he barely remembered many of the specific plot details of “The Courtyard” and had lost touch with the other actors.

He was completely unaware of topics like ‘which actor recently starred in what film,’ ‘who attended which film festival,’ or ‘whose performance wasn’t as good as in their previous film.’

However, he quickly summarized his situation: among the hundreds of people, big and small, who had worked on “The Courtyard,” he was likely the one doing the worst, aside from any deceased crew members.

After a fervent chat, the director left to greet other actors who were gradually arriving. Su Xuan had woken up early to catch his flight, and the bustling atmosphere, combined with the fact that it had nothing to do with him, made him incredibly sleepy. He slumped, half-asleep, in a corner.

Liu Pangpang had initially intended to push Su Xuan to network with influential figures. However, upon seeing the truly dazzling stars, he himself lost his nerve.

Previously, the most famous person Liu Pangpang knew was ‘Little Shen Chao,’ but these celebrities were clearly on an entirely different level than Little Shen Chao.

Their radiance was overwhelming, their glamour dazzling. From ten meters away, you could hear the thunderous cheers and screams of fans, accompanied by entire streets illuminated with their vibrant support colors. Actresses, in custom-made gowns, gracefully smiled as they held up their skirts, waving nonchalantly before moving on without a backward glance. The male stars’ attire showcased an expensive elegance, and when they smiled under the lights, entire streets of girls would shriek uncontrollably.

This was the essence of a truly popular star.

This was the brilliance of fame.

Liu Pangpang watched, holding his breath, gripping the back of his chair tightly. He had seen such scenes on television before, but experiencing it live was an entirely different matter.

Moreover, although this was merely a trial screening, out of respect for the director and Shen Chao, many major celebrities had attended, making the event feel like a film festival opening ceremony.

Liu Pangpang was drenched in sweat, afraid to even breathe. He thought Su Xuan would surely feel inferior after witnessing such a spectacle. ‘No wonder he’s been keeping his head down and not speaking,’ he mused, then turned to comfort Su Xuan, telling him not to be nervous.

However, he found Su Xuan leaning back in his chair, head bobbing, fast asleep. His ‘treated’ upper body was as unkempt as his lower body!

Liu Pangpang. ‘…’

Liu Pangpang couldn’t fathom what kind of person Su Xuan was, to be able to fall asleep in such a place.

Su Xuan was wearing a high-end tailored suit rented for fifteen thousand yuan. Liu Pangpang hadn’t taken the poster for nothing; he had told Su Xuan, ‘If you hang my poster, you have to pay me for it, and I’ll use that money to rent your clothes.’

Su Xuan slept in a corner, barely visible to cameras, devoid of any spotlight. His entire being was subdued, just like him—lacking any sparkle, not famous.

Liu Pangpang suddenly felt discouraged. The gap between them was immense. Su Xuan’s refusal to let him sell his house was correct; the money from one house wouldn’t be enough to make a star famous. Liu Pangpang knew this in his heart, but he was unwilling to give up.

He always believed that Su Xuan would one day become famous, as famous as Shen Chao, or perhaps even more so.

People continued to arrive in a steady stream. Winter days grew dark quickly; it was already dark by just past five o’clock, but the lights below grew brighter and brighter. Liu Pangpang craned his neck to look, and saw entire streets ablaze with dazzling light boards, a vivid, piercing red. Uniform slogans and words were held aloft, yet they remained silently suspended within the crowd, as if the brilliant stellar rivers in the sky had transformed into a vast red sea, tilting down onto the ground without anyone realizing.

The quiet expanse of fluorescent red lights in the night sky was a magnificent sight. Those red lights, emanating from countless small tubes, were held aloft by individual fans, converging into a powerful, ocean-like projection onto people’s retinas—a truly unforgettable scene.

But then, before Liu Pangpang’s eyes, these red lights surged like waves, rolling in from the horizon as if the sea itself were overlapping and advancing. Someone arrived, treading on red. He appeared in the aisle, like a single drop of water falling into the ocean, stirring a wave. Everyone seemed struck by this red wave, rising instantly to applaud. Flashbulbs flared, and the interwoven sounds of cameras and applause were still dwarfed by the fans’ cheers.

“Shen Chao! Shen Chao! Chase Shen, seize victory! Reign supreme day and night!”

“Ahhh! Mr. Shen, look over here!!!”

Previously, Shen Chao was called ‘Brother,’ but ever since signing the contract with Star Culture, he had become ‘Mr. Shen.’

Bodyguards maintained the aisle on both sides, yet the crowd still swayed precariously, like liquid threatening to spill over. The red light behind them was so dense and rich that it appeared almost purple or black.

Amidst the red sea of sound, Shen Chao’s expression was calm. Standing at the center of the light, he habitually adjusted his posture for the reporters’ cameras. Half his face was illuminated, the other half in shadow, his handsome, aloof features subtly emerging where light and dark met. The sight was so striking it seemed to constrict one’s chest, making it hard to breathe.

This man stood silently on the red carpet, not uttering a single word. Yet, the vast expanse of red light and flashing cameras could not outshine his radiance. Amidst the thunderous cheers and dazzling stars, you could still spot him instantly.

He was simply too captivating.

Shen Chao’s presence was overwhelmingly powerful.

Shen Chao lingered for only a few minutes before moving forward amidst the reporters’ desperate pleas for him to stay. Wang Shou, following behind, felt that Shen Chao seemed to be walking faster than usual today.

Liu Pangpang was utterly stunned.

This was Shen Chao. This was Shen Chao.

Extreme fame was like this; red to the point of turning purple and black. He had never seen it up close, and he was speechless.

Su Xuan was awakened by the noise. Through a hazy blur, he saw a sea of red. Liu Pangpang, having snapped back to reality, half-lifted, half-pulled Su Xuan to his feet.

Shen Chao, one hand adjusting his suit jacket, extended the other to shake hands with the other attendees who had risen. These individuals would only sit down after shaking his hand, creating a truly peculiar scene, as if the crowd were a wave rising and falling.

Shen Chao’s demeanor was graceful and practiced; he appeared taller and more mature than he had at eighteen. Yet, the captivating aura about him remained utterly unchanged. The way Shen Chao lowered his gaze to shake hands with people felt foreign to Su Xuan, but he was still incredibly handsome. Seeing Shen Chao this close, Su Xuan even felt that Shen Chao was somewhat unphotogenic, looking far better in person than in the eighteen-thousand-yuan poster Su Xuan had purchased.

‘Never mind,’ Su Xuan thought. ‘He’s so handsome, eighteen thousand wasn’t a loss. I might as well not sell it.’

Su Xuan’s heart pounded uncontrollably. He rubbed his warm palms, waiting to shake Shen Chao’s hand.

Liu Pangpang leaned into Su Xuan’s ear. ‘Shen Chao’s seat is next to the director’s. He probably won’t come over to our side, right?’

Su Xuan’s heartbeat slowed. He acknowledged with a sound.

Although such a trial screening, with one lead at the center and another ignored on the sidelines, was bizarre, everyone would likely understand. After all, fame was a species demarcation line. By that logic, he and Shen Chao should have reproductive isolation and avoid excessive interaction.

Then, after greeting the director, Shen Chao proceeded to walk straight over. A small ripple of commotion spread through the crowd.

Shen Chao was not a person who enjoyed socializing; it was rare to see him greet everyone in the room. Yet, no one dared to say anything, for Shen Chao was now not only a star but also a shareholder and a boss.

Finally, to everyone’s stunned gazes, Shen Chao stopped in front of a bewildered Su Xuan. He calmly extended his hand, and as if on cue, everyone redirected their lights to the corner.

All the subduedness on Su Xuan’s person receded like a tide due to Shen Chao’s inexplicably extended hand. He and Shen Chao stood together in the brightest circle of light.

Su Xuan’s eyes were momentarily dazzled by the light. Standing before him, backlighted, Shen Chao’s expression was cold and distant. “Su Xuan, long time no see.”

Su Xuan’s mind seemed to crash for about a minute. He didn’t extend his hand, nor did he speak; he was utterly frozen.

But Shen Chao was also peculiar; he didn’t withdraw his hand. Everyone remained silently stunned for a full minute, until Su Xuan finally reached out and grasped Shen Chao’s hand. Yet, he still said nothing, his mind completely blank, unable to formulate any suitable opening remarks.

Liu Pangpang was frantic, frantically signaling and whispering, “Say something! Say something!”

Su Xuan’s mind was a complete blank. “Long time no see, Shen Chao. Your new girlfriend is quite beautiful.”

Shen Chao. ‘…’

The others. ‘…’

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