Chapter 114: Song of the Year
Xie Xizhao and Miao Haicheng went out together.
When they had entered earlier, someone had already recognized Xie Xizhao. Now, as they were about to leave, a shy server approached him for an autograph. Xie Xizhao took the pen used for bookkeeping at the counter and signed on the inside cover of an album.
At the entrance, Miao Haicheng stayed with Xie Xizhao while they waited for the company’s car.
Standing by the roadside, he asked, “When is the audition?”
Xie Xizhao thought for a moment and replied, “The afternoon after tomorrow.”
Miao Haicheng nodded. “That’s good.”
He still hadn’t fully processed what Xie Xizhao had said earlier.
The young man had a gentle and refined appearance. Even when talking to an unexpected fan, he seemed warm and good-tempered. No one would have guessed that, at his core, he was someone so direct and decisive.
One might even call him forceful.
If he weren’t personally involved, Miao Haicheng would have felt more at ease about it.
As if sensing his thoughts, Xie Xizhao spoke again. “Brother, what I said just now wasn’t directed at you.”
Miao Haicheng sighed.
“Alright, I know,” he said.
He patted Xie Xizhao’s shoulder. “Good luck with the audition.”
He didn’t ask why someone of Xie Xizhao’s status still needed to audition, nor did he ask which production he was auditioning for. Xie Xizhao understood and appreciated this unspoken consideration. After watching Miao Haicheng head upstairs, he got into the car himself.
—
For the next two days, Miao Haicheng didn’t reach out to Xie Xizhao.
This was within Xie Xizhao’s expectations.
Shenghong reaching out to him was nothing more than leveraging their financial power. But to be honest, these tactics were just for fooling young and naive dreamers. Those who were purely passionate and full of ideals might feel intimidated by the suppression of capital, while those chasing fame and fortune would be tempted by platform resources.
The words sounded nice, but they didn’t hold up at all.
Xie Xizhao had long outgrown his naive phase.
He was well aware that as long as he remained popular, coupled with the contractual protections from the past, he would always be the one in control when it came to Shenghong. So whatever they said, he simply let it go in one ear and out the other.
There was no need to lay bare his true thoughts for anyone—not even if he actually had them.
By rejecting them so bluntly, Shenghong was undoubtedly in chaos right now. The news of his audition would surely throw them into a frenzy—meetings, discussions, and a flurry of inquiries for insider information.
That alone would take two or three days.
But based on Xie Xizhao’s assessment, no matter how many meetings they held, maintaining the status quo was still Shenghong’s best option.
So, over the next two days, he focused entirely on preparing for his audition.
The audition ran into a problem.
Not because of Xie Xizhao himself, but because someone else had set their sights on his role.
It was normal for multiple actors to compete for the same character. However, it became tricky when the competitor was a marketing hack—like this unknown rival of Xie Xizhao’s.
Suddenly, over the past two days, Seeking Immortality’s casting had shot up the trending charts, with marketing accounts flooding social media with identical promotional posts.
[Who will win the role of Male Lead #2 in Seeking Immortality?! The production team has begun auditions, and here’s the list of contenders: … Come check out who fits your image of the cold and elegant beauty, Senior Brother Jing Yin~]
Below the post was a collage of nine images. The marketing rival had their professionally edited glamour shots front and center, while the last few images featured other actors.
Xie Xizhao was among them.
It was obvious they had leaked his participation to ride the wave of attention. As expected, the strategy worked, and the topic successfully trended.
Then came the comment section:
[Mmm mmm, noted. If I don’t see my bias in the final lineup, you guys better be prepared for a mass boycott.]
[Stop stringing us along, my dual-fan heart can’t take this… When I read the novel, I was picturing Brother Xizhao from his second public performance…]
[Xie Xizhao is your marketing account’s golden ticket, huh? I’m done. Every time there’s a new drama, you dangle him in front of us like bait. If your words were true, my Xizhao would’ve won Best Actor by now. 🙃 Get lost.]
That’s right—everyone was so calm because Xie Xizhao had been teased as a casting choice too many times over the past two years.
At first, fans in the TP community would treat it like a big event and discuss it at length. But now? No one cared anymore.
For Xie Xizhao, this was actually a good thing.
Fang Qingqing said, “It’s better this way. Once everything is settled, we’ll let the production team make an official announcement. Saves us from getting strung along every day.”
She paused, then added, “It’s just… Li Wenbo…”
Li Wenbo.
The up-and-coming actor currently paying for all these sponsored posts.
He was considered a legitimate actor—previously part of a massively popular historical romance drama. Though only a supporting character, he had received a lot of praise and was even hyped as a “white moonlight” figure for a time. Of course, how many of those compliments were genuine and how many were bot-driven was another question entirely.
Fang Qingqing had initially been optimistic, believing the role suited Xie Xizhao well. Plus, it wasn’t a lead role, so it should’ve been an easy win.
But now, with Li Wenbo suddenly thrown into the mix, she felt a little anxious.
She hesitated before asking, “Should we…?”
She wanted to suggest throwing money at the problem—after all, their boss, Young Master Qi, had plenty of it.
After all, in the early days, Xie Xizhao’s opportunities had all been bought with money. Of course, by now, the opportunities came to him on their own. Either way, they had earned all that money back.
Two years ago, Qi Yin’s esports team had finally retired. Now, his daily routine consisted of tending to the plants in his office, watching his assistant sort through project offers, and casually browsing his favorite star’s personal Weibo. When he was in the mood, he would even leave a comment or two.
Xie Xizhao, however, said, “It’s fine, Sister, don’t worry about it.”
Just like that, he showed not the slightest concern over Li Wenbo.
—
On the day of the audition, Xie Xizhao threw on a plain white T-shirt and a pair of casual pants. After tidying himself up just a little, he headed out—without even bothering to put on makeup.
The audition was held at the production’s hotel.
Since Jing Yin’s role didn’t have too many scenes, the casting session for it had been scheduled later in the day. By the time Xie Xizhao arrived, several people were already waiting in the hallway, many auditioning for different roles.
His timing was perfect. As he was heading up the stairs, someone was coming down.
A familiar face.
It was none other than the confirmed lead of Seeking Immortality:
Dou Fei.
Dou Fei was a trained actor who had already starred in multiple dramas, all as the male lead. If Xie Xizhao was the unparalleled superstar of the idol industry, then Dou Fei was undoubtedly his counterpart in the film and television world.
He had attended the country’s most prestigious film academy, came from a family of actors, and was even a protégé of Seeking Immortality’s director, Lu Yong—one of the nation’s most renowned filmmakers. According to rumors, Dou Fei’s next step was breaking into the movie industry.
Xie Xizhao had met Dou Fei a few times before.
The other man had a youthful, clean-cut, and classically handsome look—very much the ideal leading man type.
His personality was pleasant as well, refined and courteous.
After exchanging WeChat contacts at a banquet, they had occasionally kept in touch. Dou Fei had even asked for a signed TP group photo, claiming his little sister was a fan. Xie Xizhao had naturally obliged.
Now, running into each other here, both of them were momentarily stunned.
Xie Xizhao was the first to react. Smiling, he greeted, “Long time no see.”
Dou Fei snapped out of his thoughts and stopped walking. “Not that long—I just saw you a couple of days ago.”
He paused for a moment before adding, “If your name weren’t so uncommon, I would’ve thought it was just someone else with the same name when I saw it on the list the other day. So? Had enough of being an idol? Thinking of taking our jobs now?”
The last sentence was said half-jokingly.
Xie Xizhao let out a small “hmm” and responded in a similarly teasing tone, “Will you let me?”
Dou Fei laughed.
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll be waiting for my ‘lesson in love’ from Senior Brother in a bit.”
That remark made it clear—he would be personally reading lines with Xie Xizhao during the audition. Xie Xizhao took note of it.
After chatting a bit more, Dou Fei was about to leave when he added, “Don’t be nervous. Director Ye may look strict, but he’s actually a good person. He won’t judge you based on stereotypes, so just focus on your performance.”
That was the advantage of connections.
Dou Fei was subtly telling him that Ye Yong was a fair director. Even if he knew Xie Xizhao was an idol and might have some initial bias, the final decision would still be based on skill. He didn’t know how well Xie Xizhao could act, so this was his way of offering reassurance—without making any guarantees.
Of course, Xie Xizhao understood the message.
He smiled, thanked Dou Fei, and watched him leave before continuing up the stairs to the audition floor.
—
The hallway was packed.
Multiple roles were being auditioned today—clearly, the production team wanted to save time.
At first, no one paid attention to Xie Xizhao when he appeared at the stairwell, assuming he was just another newcomer. But as he took a seat on one of the temporary benches, people gradually started noticing him.
Xie Xizhao overheard whispers from a short distance away.
“Who’s that? He looks kind of familiar.”
“You don’t know? That’s TP’s ACE. He’s super popular. Do you even check trending topics?”
“Holy crap, he actually showed up? Wasn’t everyone saying it was just a publicity stunt? Wait, his status is high enough that he still has to audition? Is Shenghong really that down bad now?”
Xie Xizhao acted as if he hadn’t heard a thing.
He glanced at his watch—there were still thirty minutes before his scheduled audition.
…Hmm, he thought.
This was a bit tricky.
It had been a long time since he had experienced something like this.
Waiting.
TP’s schedule had always been back-to-back—rushing from one event while already preparing for the next. But now, there was nothing else to do. And he certainly couldn’t start writing a song in the middle of an audition waiting area.
Not to mention how odd that would look. Plus, with all the eyes on him, he doubted he could focus anyway.
After a moment’s thought, he simply pulled out his phone and started reviewing the script.
But before he could even begin, someone carefully sat down next to him.
“Hello?”
Xie Xizhao looked up. “Hello.”
The other person gasped in shock.
Xie Xizhao: “…?”
“It’s really you! Xizhao, I thought—ah, I mean!” The young man’s face turned bright red as he stumbled over his words. “I—I’m a fan! I’ve liked you for so long! Your song Boundless Sea is my absolute favorite—really! It’s still my song of the year!”
As he spoke, he eagerly pulled out his phone, seemingly wanting to show proof.
Xie Xizhao: “…”
Song of the year? Now that’s dedication.
Though he hadn’t expected to run into a fan here, he still responded earnestly, “Thank you for your support.”
The other person immediately covered his face, overwhelmed.
The young man’s hands and voice were trembling slightly—clearly the reaction of someone overwhelmed at meeting their idol.
Xie Xizhao saw his flustered state, noted how young he looked, and sighed internally. To ease the tension, he took the initiative to ask, “Are you here to audition too?”
The fan immediately straightened his posture. “Yes!”
“But it’s just for a minor role,” he added sheepishly. “I’ve mostly been an extra before, but since the production team was holding auditions, I thought I’d give it a shot. Oh, right!”
He suddenly turned around to rummage through his bag, mumbling as he searched, “Good thing I randomly decided to bring this today…”
The next moment, Xie Xizhao watched as he pulled out a copy of TP’s latest album.
Xie Xizhao: “…”
Wait. What?
Since when did fans start carrying albums around just in case?
The young man looked at him with bright, expectant eyes. “Could you write a ‘To’ signature for me? If it’s inconvenient, that’s okay too.”
Of course, it wasn’t inconvenient at all.
Xie Xizhao took the pen and album from him, ready to sign. He was just about to ask what dedication the fan wanted when—
A sharp scoff cut through the air.
“Seriously, just anyone can try acting now, huh? No wonder the industry is in such a mess with people like this ruining it.”
The voice was neither too loud nor too quiet—just loud enough for him to hear.
Xie Xizhao raised an eyebrow and looked up.
A short distance away, a group of young men stood together, their gazes filled with barely concealed disdain.
