Chapter 7: Not Acting

The rainy night was slick and treacherous, and Lu Xi didn’t dare drive too fast. It took an hour and a half to reach the set, and by then, it was already past 10:00 PM. Fortunately, Tan Xueci’s scene was scheduled for later in the night.

The filming location was at the old campus of Jiahe Private Middle School in Beijing.

The old campus was over thirty years old. Because the facilities were outdated, the students had been moved to a new campus at the beginning of the year. The school planned to renovate the old site by the end of the year to establish a junior high division. This left a few months where the campus was vacant, so it was leased out to the film crew.

However, when Tan Xueci first joined the cast, he had heard staff whispering that seven students had died at this school last year, and one body had still not been found. The school had reportedly hired masters to suppress the bad luck, but fearing more deaths, they had hurried the students away.

Outside, the rain and mist were continuous. A few crew vehicles were parked outside the gate, but most of the actors and staff were inside. The entrance was dark and exceptionally desolate.

The moment Tan Xueci stepped out of the car, he felt a chill down his back. His shoulders gave a small shudder, and he quickly quickened his pace to keep up with his manager.

The director had just finished a scene. Perhaps the filming wasn’t going well tonight; he stood there with a cigarette in his mouth, his face grim. Seeing Tan Xueci, he didn’t have a pleasant tone, barking coldly, “Go change your clothes, quickly!”

“Yes, yes, right away,” Lu Xi pulled Tan Xueci along, offering a fawning smile to the director. “Director He, I’ll take him there immediately.”

Tan Xueci had fallen ill only a few days after filming began. He was a newcomer with no status and no backing, yet he was delaying the production schedule; the director’s anger was understandable.

Lu Xi originally wanted Tan Xueci to apologize, but seeing that the director couldn’t be bothered with them, he tactfully led him away to avoid causing more irritation.

When Tan Xueci had said he wanted to act, He Sui had immediately arranged a manager. Lu Xi had thought this meant He Sui intended to back the boy, but he hadn’t expected that after dumping the kid on him, He Sui never checked in again.

The fact that Tan Xueci and He Sui were “dating” was an open secret. However, He Sui was always cold toward him. Paparazzi had even caught him shaking off Tan Xueci’s hand and getting into a car alone, leaving the boy stranded in the rain.

Rumors began to spread that Tan Xueci was obsessively clinging to He Sui to climb the social ladder. People mostly viewed him as a plaything—one who didn’t know how to please his benefactor and was clearly out of favor.

The entertainment industry is full of people who trample on the weak and fawning over the powerful. Tan Xueci was a rejected second son at home and ignored by He Sui; naturally, no one else took him seriously.

The school had many empty classrooms. The assistant director had designated a few connecting rooms as dressing areas. As Tan Xueci followed Lu Xi, no one along the way paid them any attention.

It wasn’t until they reached the dressing room door that they heard a cold sneer.

Tan Xueci paused and looked up. It was the second male lead, Zhai Fang.

Zhai Fang had just finished his makeup. He narrowed his eyes at Tan Xueci and said in a snide tone, “So you finally dared to show up on set?”

The drama they were filming was titled Entanglement, an idol drama set in a school, following a story of the male lead and several supporting male characters pursuing the female lead.

Tan Xueci played the third male lead—a self-deprecating, gloomy villain who pursues the heroine unsuccessfully and ultimately meets a tragic end.

Lu Xi’s expression turned sour. According to the original contract, Zhai Fang was supposed to be the third lead, and Tan Xueci the second.

Six months ago, Tan Xueci’s debut film was a horror movie. He played a brainless, wealthy second-generation heir—the typical “cannon fodder” who dies as soon as he appears. Such midnight horror flicks are usually mass-produced and rarely make stars.

Yet, Tan Xueci was the only one who went viral from that movie, simply because the little master he played was so stunningly beautiful despite being foolish.

In the film, the little master gets into an argument with friends in an abandoned hospital and gets separated. Just as he is about to call out for them, a pair of pale, ghostly hands covers his mouth and drags him into a dark corridor.

The camera had given Tan Xueci a close-up: those beautiful eyes filled with tears, terror and despair clutching his throat—a realistic, broken beauty that felt like a brush with death.

It didn’t look like acting.

It was as if he had actually seen a ghost.

When the director shouted “Cut” during filming, Tan Xueci didn’t even hear him. The director, who had spent a decade filming third-rate horror, was so moved by meeting an actor who took his work so seriously that he nearly burst into tears on the spot.

Tan Xueci: “…”

His face had been deathly pale, and he had stammered, not daring to say that the hand covering his mouth actually smelled of rot and blood.

Regardless, his extraordinary looks combined with that natural acting landed him on the trending searches at 3:00 AM on the night of the premiere. His followers skyrocketed.

Lu Xi had to admit that Tan Xueci was the type who didn’t need any skills; that face was enough. A simple ten-second video posted online could go viral instantly.

Offers poured in like snowflakes, but because Tan Xueci was effectively a “desperate illiterate” at the time, Lu Xi didn’t dare take on more roles until this school drama invited him.

The role of the second lead, Lin Jiyuan, was a “Gentle White Moonlight” type—a childhood friend with a secret crush on the heroine. Tan Xueci’s pale skin, clear features, and detached aura seemed to fit perfectly.

Lu Xi never expected that after the contract was signed, Zhai Fang would bring his own funding to the production, usurping Tan Xueci’s role. The director promptly demoted Tan Xueci to the third lead.

Fans, who had already heard Tan Xueci would play Lin Jiyuan, were furious when the leaked filming photos showed the roles had been swapped. They began clashing with Zhai Fang’s camp.

At that time, Zhai Fang had been accused of extensive plastic surgery—from his brow bone to his jaw. On a variety show, his face had appeared so swollen it was mocked as looking like a “steamed bun.”

Combined with the “bringing funds” scandal, the internet was a battlefield for days until the press conference for Entanglement. Zhai Fang appeared in a school uniform looking exceptionally handsome and clean. Despite being twenty-five, he looked like a fresh-faced teenager. Most importantly, there were no visible signs of surgery.

The tide of public opinion turned instantly. Zhai Fang’s fans began posting comparison photos, claiming Zhai Fang was the “chosen one” for the role and accusing Tan Xueci of being the one who used connections.

Furthermore, Tan Xueci hadn’t done any interviews or variety shows since his debut film.

“He doesn’t even dare to show his face. It’s hard to say who really had the surgery. He’s probably afraid of being exposed,” some netizens wrote.

Zhai Fang’s PR team acted quickly, clearing him of the funding rumors and shifting the blame for the surgery rumors onto Tan Xueci.

In short, everyone was calling Tan Xueci a calculating “cancer” of the industry. Some even sent him threatening messages.

Tan Xueci was still using a dilapidated old mobile phone his brother had bought him seven or eight years ago. It was so slow it took ten minutes just to open a message.

That day, he had been hospitalized. When he woke up and saw a notification, his eyes lit up, thinking it was his family or a supportive fan. With the IV needle still in his hand, his face pale and hair damp, he watched the screen load with expectation.

Then, the message popped up: “You’re so malicious, you’re beyond saving. If you have any shame, get the hell out of the entertainment industry.”

Tan Xueci: “…”

He stared blankly. He recognized the word “hell.” It seemed that no matter what he did, he was destined to be hated.

Tan Xueci’s popularity was a flash in the pan; his small amount of “red” fame couldn’t stand against the overwhelming “black” tide of hate.

He Sui didn’t react at all. The company realized He Sui had no intention of protecting him; if anything, it seemed he had been thrown into the industry to be tormented as punishment for offending the Young Master He.

There were always reporters lingering outside the hospital. Lu Xi had no choice but to let Tan Xueci go home to rest once he felt a bit better.

His parents and brother, Tan Shangli, were busy and not at home. Tan Yanning hadn’t graduated yet and was at school. Only the servants were with him.

Tan Xueci wanted to say he didn’t even know Zhai Fang and hadn’t hired anyone to curse him—that he was being framed. But he waited by the small attic window for days until his parents finally came home, only to be immediately sent away for the marriage alliance with the He family.

…

Having been in the industry for half a year, Tan Xueci was no longer a complete novice. He knew he couldn’t afford to offend Zhai Fang.

He paused and said politely, “Brother Zhai…”

He intended to say “Good evening,” but before he could finish, he saw a tiny, greenish-gray hand reach out from behind Zhai Fang, curiously stroking Zhai Fang’s shoulder.

The fingernails on that small hand were black, and the skin was rotted, revealing the crimson, bloody flesh underneath.

As it stroked him, it suddenly seemed to realize someone was watching. It slowly poked out half of a ghastly pale face. Its eyes were pure black, devoid of light, and it bared its teeth in a grin at Tan Xueci.