Chapter 121: The Times Have Changed
On the day of the official announcement, Xie Xizhao was still filming an outdoor scene.
One of the characteristics of historical xianxia dramas was the abundance of outdoor scenes, with costumes that were both thin and intricate.
This scene took place in the earlier part of the story when Jing Yin and the male lead had not yet turned against each other. The two were practicing together behind the mountain, with Jing Yin still playing the role of a good senior brother, patiently guiding his junior.
Since it involved a fight scene, they had at least chosen a sunny day for filming.
As usual, Xie Xizhao woke up early in the morning to do his makeup and have breakfast. At dawn, he headed to the bamboo forest with Dou Fei.
Both of them wore thick cotton coats, shivering together as they prepared, looking like two plump little quails hopping around. Dou Fei asked him, “You were working again last night?”
“I saw your selfie,” Dou Fei added.
Xie Xizhao was still half-asleep and responded absentmindedly, “…Huh?”
He didn’t quite grasp the hidden implication behind those words.
“It was very…” Dou Fei said honestly, “Well, seductive.”
Xie Xizhao: “……”
Half a minute later, the entire Seeking Immortality crew could hear their leading actor’s wailing—“Hey, hey, hey, Xizhao, stop hitting me!”—along with the makeup artist’s shrieking—“Ahhh! You two, stop messing around! I just finished your makeup!”
Another half a minute later, the leading actor and the supporting actor called a truce.
And went back to squatting together to tease the sparrows.
This was the daily life of the Seeking Immortality crew ever since Xie Xizhao had joined.
Only after getting familiar with him did Xie Xizhao realize that Dou Fei was quite an amusing person—at the very least, he wasn’t as serious as he appeared on the surface.
Jing Yin didn’t have many scenes. That was just how a big male-lead drama worked—everyone except the protagonist was essentially a prop. As one of those props, all of his plotlines revolved around the male lead. So during filming, it was mostly the two of them acting together.
While waiting for their scenes, they would chat. Dou Fei was very curious about idol life—not only did he check Xie Xizhao’s Weibo every day, but he also frequently asked him about stage performances and daily life in group dorms. Xie Xizhao never minded answering.
Of course—
“Do all boy groups really know how to lip-sync?”
That kind of technical question was one Xie Xizhao refused to answer.
—
After their little scuffle, Lu Yong arrived.
The two of them took their positions, got strapped into their wire rigs, and then began filming officially.
The first scene started with Yun Jue descending from the sky.
Xie Xizhao’s face had already returned to its usual blank expression. No one could tell that, at that moment, he was busy thinking about what flavor of boxed lunch to get for lunch. While his face remained emotionless, his mind wandered as he watched the young man in blue robes cut through the air, sword dancing, ink-black hair flying.
His face carried the vibrant energy of youth, and his eyes shone like morning stars—almost exactly the image of the male lead Xie Xizhao had imagined after reading the original novel. His acting was still a little raw, but there was already a clear structure to his performance.
…A promising future indeed.
Xie Xizhao thought.
No wonder Lu Yong valued him so much and was personally mentoring him.
With that in mind, he lifted his sword and stepped forward to meet the battle-ready young man.
Xie Xizhao had learned action choreography from a stunt double in a certain world. Back then, his character was a genius teenager doomed to an early death. In the few months before his demise, he had followed his stuntmaster around like a little shadow.
Perhaps moved by his dedication, the man had ended up teaching him everything he knew.
Would that man even remember his little apprentice when he heard the news of his death from cancer?
The sharp glint of swords clashed, ringing out in crisp metallic chimes.
Yun Jue was exhilarated today.
After pestering him for so long, his cold and aloof senior brother had finally agreed to a proper duel.
He knew he was still weak, nothing more than a novice, but…
It was senior brother!
The same senior brother whom everyone admired and revered!
Excitement surged through him, and he lost control of his strength. His flexible sword lashed out with unstoppable force, carrying an aggressive momentum.
However, his skills were still too raw. Within just a few moves, he was forced into retreat, his wrist stinging from the impact. But just as he was about to lose his footing completely, he suddenly caught sight of an opening.
Without hesitation, he feinted an attack, and the moment his opponent was distracted, he thrust his sword straight toward his vital point.
In that instant, he saw a flicker of surprise flash through the other’s eyes.
It lasted only for a heartbeat.
As the sword tip closed in on his forehead, Xie Xizhao suddenly arched backward, his waist bending into an elegant yet flexible arc. His white robes billowed as Dou Fei’s soft sword slashed through the air, missing him by barely an inch.
The next second, the tide turned.
The sword in Xie Xizhao’s hand seemed to come alive, tracing mesmerizing arcs in the air.
For a brief moment, everyone watching was reminded of his breathtaking sword dance during the talent show. But this time, his swordplay was no longer just elegant—it was deadly.
With each move pressing closer, Dou Fei struggled to keep up, fumbling to defend himself. Any semblance of counterattack had vanished.
A sharp clang echoed.
The sound of the soft sword falling to the ground.
The young Yun Jue collapsed onto the floor, disheveled and utterly defeated.
Standing before him, the young man in white remained utterly composed, unmoved by the wind or the fight. His delicate yet cold face seemed like a snow-covered peak, untouched for centuries.
“Junior brother,” he said softly. “You lost.”
“Cut!”
Lu Yong’s voice rang out from off-camera.
“Alright! That take was perfect!” He rubbed his hands together excitedly.
With his words, a round of enthusiastic applause followed. The crew members laughed as they tidied up the set, calling out, “Great work, Teacher Xiao Dou! Great work, Teacher Xiao Zhao!” while preparing to wrap up for lunch.
Xie Xizhao and Dou Fei threw on their down coats and started walking back to the tent.
It was at that moment that Xie Xizhao spotted Fang Qingqing, who had come all the way from the hotel specifically to find him.
Just one look at her expression, and he already knew what she wanted to talk about.
He paused for a moment. “What is it?”
People bustled around the set, and several cast and crew members glanced their way from time to time. Fang Qingqing’s first question was, “Do you have any scenes this afternoon?”
“No,” Xie Xizhao replied.
“Then let’s talk at the hotel,” she said after a brief moment of thought.
With that, he said goodbye to Dou Fei, not noticing the way Dou Fei glanced at him after scrolling through Weibo, as if he had something to say but held back.
Once they arrived at the hotel, Xie Xizhao and Fang Qingqing sat down together.
She took a deep breath. “I have one good news and one bad news. Which do you want to hear first?”
Xie Xizhao: “…”
“Then I’ll take a nap first,” he said.
His wrist was still tingling from the force of the sword strikes—he figured he could use some rest.
Fang Qingqing couldn’t decide whether to be exasperated or amused. “At least eat lunch before you sleep.”
“Alright,” she continued. “You eat, and I’ll fill you in on the situation.”
*
While Xie Xizhao was filming, the entire Yaoxin company was on high alert.
Two days ago, they had received news from the production team that an official announcement was imminent. Since then, they had been preparing countless contingency plans to ensure they could control public opinion the moment the news broke.
But how far would public reaction go?
Truthfully, they didn’t know.
Xie Xizhao’s situation was too unique.
He was an idol transitioning into acting—and he was doing it while still being active in his group. Normally, when small-time idols tried to make that leap, they would face a certain level of criticism. The company had already discussed this with Xie Xizhao, and his stance was clear.
He was willing to accept skepticism.
Whether it was doubts about his ability to balance group activities and solo work, or about his acting skills—he could handle any reasonable criticism before the results were out.
But at the same time, there was something even more unusual about Xie Xizhao.
His reputation was too good.
He had been in the public eye for nearly three years, and he had debuted as an artist for over two. No scandals, no dirt—countless people had tried to dig up something on him, eager to drag him down, but every attempt had failed.
Only those close to him knew that his life consisted of just two things:
Work and rest.
And his so-called “rest” mostly involved slinging a bag over his shoulder and traveling for inspiration—still, at its core, work-related.
Fang Qingqing and Miao Haicheng had spent the past two years constantly arguing over various disagreements, but there was one thing they both agreed on—
They must have saved a lot of people in their past lives to have been blessed with an artist like him to manage.
Xie Xizhao was already flawless in terms of ability. On top of that, his down-to-earth family background made him even more relatable, turning him into a true national idol over the past two years.
Even casual bystanders who weren’t into idols knew his name. At the very least, when they heard it, they’d say, “He’s a breath of fresh air in the entertainment industry,” or “His songs are really good.”
This was the confidence that came from his body of work—combined with the power of his personal charm.
And now, this person had done something that, had it been anyone else, would’ve become an easy target for criticism.
Yaoxin had no way of predicting how things would turn out.
And today’s trending searches finally gave them the answer.
That answer was—
Controversy.
—
The moment the news broke, the comment section exploded.
No one even mentioned the other leads or supporting cast—the entire comment section was filled with nothing but question marks.
[???]
[??? WHO did you say?!]
[Holy shit?! Xie Xizhao really joined the cast?!]
[AAAAAHHH MY JING YIN!! HOLY SHIT MY FAVE IS PLAYING MY FAVE CHARACTER I’M GONNA LOSE IT SOMEONE HELP ME—]
Over on Xie Xizhao’s fan forum, one second everyone was angrily cursing at the company, and the next, they were completely stunned.
[He… He’s really filming?]
[And it’s Lu Yong’s production… Am I dreaming? Someone pinch me…]
[AAAAHHHH I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS FOREVER I CAN’T BELIEVE HE’S ACTUALLY ACTING I WANNA LAUGH I WANNA CRY AAAAHHHH ZHAOOO—]
Of course, there were also those who were a bit confused.
[So… did we wrongly accuse the company?]
The next second, someone immediately shot that down.
[Shenghong, that damn company, wouldn’t even let Zhao participate in their in-house music show, and you actually expect them to push him into a drama production? What’s the logic there? So they can disband three years later and bring Yaoxin a huge payday?]
[There was a rumor before that Zhao went for an audition, but no one cared. Turns out it was real? [sweating emoji]]
[Shit, I just remembered that too! That gossip account got completely flamed back then—bro, I’m so sorry, we’ve been led around too much. That was friendly fire.]
[AAAAH WHAT DO I DO I’M SO HAPPY! If he’s filming, I gladly accept another month of no updates. As long as I can see fresh new Zhao! Time to go read fanfics!]
Casual viewers were mostly shocked, while his fans were celebrating like it was the best day of their lives.
This atmosphere lasted for a few hours. But as the hype continued to spread, so did the doubts.
—
Inside the hotel room, Xie Xizhao was eating braised potatoes with pork ribs.
Fang Qingqing watched with satisfaction. “I told you to stop dieting. Weren’t you the one saying you’d only eat boiled cabbage? Since when were you this obedient?”
Xie Xizhao looked equally innocent.
“The director won’t let me diet.” He swallowed a bite of potato and muttered under his breath, “He said I’m too skinny.”
His exact words were that he looked like a white-cut chicken. Xie Xizhao found that completely unreasonable. Sure, he was thin, but he had abs. How did that resemble a white-cut chicken in any way?
Fang Qingqing laughed and poured him some hot water before continuing, “Most of the negative comments are within what we expected. Mainly book fans are a little worried, afraid your acting won’t be strong enough and you’ll ruin the character.”
That part actually surprised Yaoxin.
Because Jing Yin wasn’t even the protagonist. He was a villain.
“Even though we knew your character was unique, we didn’t expect this many hardcore book fans to speak up,” Fang Qingqing said.
Of course, the overall reaction was still within their expectations.
“The company followed your previous suggestion for this group of fans,” she continued. “We’re not interfering too much—just letting them vent. The drama will air eventually, and once it does, the reputation can easily flip.”
There wasn’t a single trace of doubt in her tone.
What a joke.
This was Xie Xizhao they were talking about.
Xie Xizhao didn’t waste time being modest. He just nodded and asked, “And the other part?”
“The other part…” Fang Qingqing smiled wryly. “They just dislike idols transitioning to acting. They think you’re riding on your popularity.”
Ah, the age-old issue.
The funniest thing? Some of these same people used to lament how it was such a waste for him to be an idol.
Now that he was actually acting, they switched up instantly.
Xie Xizhao didn’t react much. He only said, “That’s normal.”
Because, honestly? He was kind of playing with a cheat code.
For most people, balancing two demanding careers and excelling at both was nearly impossible.
“This part of the discourse is already under control,” Fang Qingqing reassured him. “Luckily, your reputation has always been solid. A lot of people are defending you, saying you don’t seem like someone who acts without a plan and that they’ll wait until the drama airs before judging.”
With that kind of foundation, plus some well-placed guidance in public opinion, none of this would affect Xie Xizhao in the long run.
This was also why Fang Qingqing was still in the mood to joke with Xie Xizhao when she arrived.
The two chatted for a bit longer before Fang Qingqing suddenly remembered something.
“Oh, right.”
“A lot of TP’s fans are actually speaking up for you,” she said with a laugh. “I really didn’t expect that. The solo stans used to fight so much—I thought they’d take this chance to use it against you.”
This was another thing that surprised Yaoxin Entertainment.
They weren’t sure if it was because the group’s variety show had made a big impact or because Xie Xizhao had been suppressed for too long. Normally, when a top idol started acting before the group disbanded—especially when they were still at their peak—there would always be some level of backlash.
Of course, there was still some grumbling, mostly from extreme solo fans of the other members. On that very day, forums were flooded with arguments.
But outwardly, the group’s fanbase had an unexpectedly unified stance.
[What do you mean ‘going solo’? Can antis stop making things up? LMAO. The group’s variety show only wrapped up two months ago, and they’re already preparing for their next comeback. It’s just a drama—can people stop with the conspiracy theories?]
[They’ve had individual activities from the start. What’s wrong with the visual acting in a drama? Just because our Zhao is an all-rounder ACE doesn’t mean we should ignore his looks. Do you really think that face should only appear in MVs and not on screen?]
[…I’m so done. Why do people keep speaking on behalf of fans? I’ll say it a million times—group fans don’t care! We want every TP member to be successful and shine! If you call yourself a group fan, go buy albums and stream instead of whining! This is so frustrating.]
And just like that, public opinion gradually shifted exactly where Yaoxin wanted it to go.
The trending topic stayed up all night, with the discussion remaining heated. Though there were still some doubts, the overall sentiment was surprisingly mild. Most people expressed anticipation, eager to see Xie Xizhao’s debut as an actor. Many of them weren’t even his fans.
If even casual viewers were this open-minded, his fans were even more excited.
Both Yaoxin and Xie Xizhao assumed that the matter had blown over.
But no one expected another incident to break out in the middle of the night.
Fang Qingqing was woken up by a phone call.
The PR manager’s voice was hoarse with exhaustion and laced with urgency. “Sister Qing, check the trending topics!”
Still half-asleep, Fang Qingqing opened the rankings.
The number one trending topic: Unfollowed.
A bad feeling crept up her spine.
She clicked in and saw a viral post from a gossip account:
[Holy crap, everyone, we’ve got drama! Just now, well-known director Hong Wu, a close friend of Director Lu Yong, suddenly unfollowed him! Not only that, he even posted a Weibo and deleted it in seconds. The post said: ‘So disappointed.’ 👀]
[Let’s not forget—Director Lu has publicly criticized idol actors before. Has the industry changed? Is he finally giving in and selling out for traffic? Top-tier idols really do have power, huh? [screenshot]]
Fang Qingqing’s drowsiness disappeared instantly.
