Chapter 125: A Complete Breakthrough
Strictly speaking, saying that bystanders hadn’t processed it yet wasn’t entirely accurate.
Because on the very night the drama aired, an uninformed viewer had already posted on Weibo in amazement:
[Wow, the actor playing Jing Yin looks really good and acts quite well too! Is he a rookie from some company?]
Of course, only true outsiders dared to speak so openly.
Anyone who had caught even a bit of gossip wouldn’t have been so quick to declare, “Not bad.”
Acting, after all, wasn’t as clear-cut as being off-key in singing or out of sync in dancing—unless it was so bad that it clashed with the entire production’s tone, there was always a degree of subjectivity involved.
For the average viewer with no professional background, it was hard to establish a clear standard of judgment.
At times like these, professional critiques and public opinion trends became crucial.
Xie Xizhao was an idol. Normally, apart from sarcasm, no industry veteran would have gone out of their way to comment on his acting skills.
As for public opinion…
In Fang Qingqing’s words: “The haters probably wished they could disappear. Who would still dare to bring up his acting now?”
—Even they knew that if they did, all their previous doubts and mockery would completely fall apart.
And yet, despite that…
As the plot unfolded and the show’s popularity continued to soar, the buzz around Xie Xizhao’s acting gradually gained momentum.
More and more people on various social media platforms were praising the actor playing Jing Yin—not just for his looks and aura, but most importantly, for his lively and expressive performance. Even when acting alongside Dou Fei, he never appeared overshadowed in the slightest.
Dou Fei was widely recognized as a destined star. Under Lu Yong’s guidance, his path to stardom was dazzling. If nothing unexpected happened, he would continue rising step by step, eventually competing for the most prestigious awards.
As more and more people started praising Xie Xizhao, Yaoxin took notice.
However, they didn’t blindly jump on the bandwagon. Instead, they waited patiently.
They waited for the perfect moment—the opportunity that would propel Xie Xizhao to true stardom.
And before long…
That opportunity arrived, right on cue, as the story progressed.
That day, Xie Xizhao was still incredibly busy.
Juggling two schedules was just like this—variety show recordings and filming could be done separately, but when the promotional period overlapped with preparations for a comeback, it became a schedule from hell. Fortunately, Xie Xizhao’s physical endurance had improved significantly, allowing him to keep up.
Even so, it was utterly exhausting. At his most tired, he would fall asleep the moment he got into the car. Naturally, he had no time to watch the drama he had acted in.
But Xie Xizhao was quite optimistic about it.
To him, his connection with a drama ended the moment filming wrapped up. What happened after it aired was left to the audience. Whether the reviews were positive or negative, they had nothing to do with him anymore.
With that mindset, he didn’t find out that the scene “Jing Yin’s Descent into Madness” had gone viral until late at night.
At the time, he had just finished recording and was riding back to the villa with his teammates. After an entire day of work, everyone was too exhausted to even talk, each focused on their own phone.
It was at that moment that Yun Pan suddenly let out an “Ah!”
Everyone looked up at him, only to see him grimacing in pain.
“I just got spoiled by the trending topics.”
All the members of TP had watched Seeking Immortality. The only difference was that people like Zou Yi and Fu Wenze only watched Xie Xizhao’s cut, while Ai Qingyuan and Yun Pan were genuinely invested in the show.
Lately, every time Xie Xizhao returned to the dorm, he would see the two of them sitting on the living room couch, each clutching a pillow, their fists clenched in suspense. They were just one dramatic shout away from fully embodying the immersive audience experience—all that was missing was a loud cry of “Do not b*lly the young and poor!”
The sight was so memorable that the moment Yun Pan spoke, everyone immediately knew that something from Seeking Immortality had hit the trending list again.
Even though they had been bombarded with trending topics and recommendations nonstop in recent days, Zou Yi still couldn’t help but sigh.
“This drama is insanely popular.”
And it really was.
By now, Seeking Immortality had practically become a nationwide sensation. If nothing else, even the playlist at the shopping mall near them had recently added the drama’s theme song.
“I was just outside getting a drink,” Ai Qingyuan said, his words slightly muffled by the throat lozenge in his mouth. “I overheard some staff members discussing the plot, and I ran away immediately.”
No way.
The last thing he wanted was to be ambushed with spoilers when he wasn’t prepared.
As soon as he finished speaking, he caught Yun Pan’s intense gaze and immediately grew wary. “Stay away from me!”
Yun Pan just grinned mischievously.
A second later, their group chat notifications went off all at once.
Ai Qingyuan: “……”
He quickly threw his phone at Fu Wenze before the image could load.
Fu Wenze caught it helplessly—then tossed it right back.
Meanwhile, Zou Yi had already opened the picture. He stared at the text on the screen, momentarily stunned.
“Jing Yin’s Descent into Madness?”
Ai Qingyuan: “……”
“CAPTAIN!!!”
Zou Yi cleared his throat awkwardly and looked at Xie Xizhao. “Xizhao, take a look?”
Xie Xizhao had already seen it.
It was from a marketing account he was quite familiar with.
He hesitated for a moment but didn’t click on it. Instead, after arriving at the villa, he made a point to watch the latest episode of the drama himself.
As soon as the episode started playing, it was the Sect Assembly scene.
Xie Xizhao grabbed a bag of chips, tearing open the packaging while watching himself on screen—his character, cold and indifferent, getting struck down by a single move from Dou Fei, then looking up in disbelief.
He let out a small, amused laugh.
Realizing this, he quickly coughed to cover it up.
Xie Xizhao had quite a bit of attachment to the character Jing Yin. But that attachment stemmed from the fact that he had played the role.
Some actors fully immersed themselves in their characters, as if they were genuinely living their lives—a classic trait of the method acting approach.
But Xie Xizhao wasn’t that type. He leaned more toward representational acting.
In other words, he was always aware that he was portraying a character, not becoming them.
A large part of that came from his own experiences—his entire life had been about constantly playing different roles. And those roles were almost always cannon fodder. If he had fully immersed himself in each one, his mental state would’ve suffered. In a way, this was his form of self-preservation.
So, while Jing Yin was special to him…
At the same time, many of the character’s thoughts and choices were things Xie Xizhao could understand but not necessarily agree with.
And this particular scene was one of those moments—one that he found truly regrettable.
As the chief disciple of the sect leader, Jing Yin had been defeated by his former good-for-nothing junior brother. His eyes reflected not just shock, but also unwillingness to accept it. And Xie Xizhao knew that before long, that unwillingness would fester into jealousy.
He bit into a chip, savoring the rare pleasure of carbs, and absentmindedly opened the comment overlay.
The moment it popped up, the screen was instantly flooded with a barrage of comments. He had to tweak the settings to keep them floating at the top instead. The first one that caught his eye read:
[Gorgeous man huff huff, even his anger is so attractive]
Xie Xizhao: “……”
What was up with people’s preferences these days?
He kept a blank expression and did his best to ignore these questionable remarks.
Fortunately, aside from the ones thirsting over his looks, most of the comments were actually discussing the plot.
[Sigh, obsessive people tend to get stuck in their own heads. They just can’t handle failure.]
[Jing Yin probably never imagined that the weakling he once helped would one day defeat him. It’s ironic, but honestly, his personality was a ticking time bomb. Unless he had an absolutely smooth path to ascension, the moment he faced a setback, his chances of spiraling were way higher than the average person.]
[This is kind of heartbreaking… their brotherly bond used to seem so genuine.]
Then, the scene shifted.
Now, Yun Jue was surrounded by people showering him with praise.
Some of them had once looked down on him—some had even b*llied him. But now, their faces were all painted with the same eager flattery, warmly calling him Junior Brother Yun Jue—all because he had made a name for himself in a single battle and become the sect leader’s most favored disciple.
Meanwhile, the once-glorious Jing Yin now seemed like nothing more than a discarded pawn.
[Ugh, too real. These opportunists are the worst.]
[To be honest, even though I can’t sympathize with Jing Yin after everything he did later, this part is actually really tragic. Human nature, huh…]
[Not sure why, but this reminds me of those marketing accounts that flip sides faster than a page in a book. A few months ago, during the whole Director Hong incident, Xie Xizhao was their favorite punching bag. Now they’re milking his popularity like crazy. Tsk.]
[Who’s Xie Xizhao?]
[Oh, he’s the actor playing Jing Yin. Since he started out as an idol, people used to drag him like crazy. But looking back now, it was clearly just bandwagon hate.]
These comments were buried among many others, but they still stood out. The platform’s algorithm highlighted comments that received a lot of likes by changing their color.
Right now, that last comment was brightly highlighted, making it impossible to miss.
Xie Xizhao’s lips curled slightly, though his expression remained unreadable as he kept watching.
He remembered that next up was Jing Yin’s descent into madness.
But before he could even reach that familiar scene, the number of comments on the screen suddenly surged.
His hand paused for a moment.
[It’s coming!]
[Here for the infamous beautiful lunatic breakdown—am I in the right place?]
[Brace yourselves! Don’t blink for the next ten minutes! This scene is legendary!]
As the excited comments filled the screen, the story reached its critical moment.
—
Actually, Xie Xizhao was quite familiar with this scene.
It was the one he had polished the most, almost more than any other. It was also the most important scene for Jing Yin, apart from his eventual death. But when they officially started filming, he and Lu Yong still made some small adjustments.
He felt that at this point, Jing Yin hadn’t completely fallen yet. Besides his madness, there should still be a trace of rationality left in him.
In the scene, this was reflected in how, just as Yun Jue was about to leave, Jing Yin called out to him:
“Junior Brother.”
What was Jing Yin thinking at that moment? The script didn’t specify.
But Xie Xizhao knew.
He was thinking about the moment when he first met Yun Jue.
Everything in the world followed the law of cause and effect. The seed he had planted back then had led to the outcome he now faced.
He had sown kindness, yet reaped suffering. Yun Jue was not at fault, but neither was he.
Xie Xizhao was completely absorbed in watching.
He was scrutinizing the details of his performance, and the result pleased him.
He felt he had delivered the scene well. But when he glanced up at the barrage of comments on the screen, he was genuinely startled.
He had already sensed something was coming when the “incoming emotional impact” warnings popped up. He figured this scene would be the one trending on social media tonight. But at his core, he still saw delivering a good performance as simply part of his job as an actor.
He hadn’t expected…
The audience would be this emotional.
However, there were still many things Xie Xizhao hadn’t expected.
He had no idea that he had already accumulated a strong grassroots reputation. He didn’t know that tonight’s scene had not only solidified Jing Yin’s character but had also firmly established his own. And he certainly didn’t realize that, in today’s entertainment industry, having great acting skills had become something far from common.
That very night, a well-known film and television blogger in the industry posted on Weibo.
This blogger had always maintained a cool and detached style, but this post was completely out of character—anyone could tell it was a raw, emotional outburst.
[Oh my god, Xie Xizhao’s acting is insane… No, seriously, this scene had me completely immersed. How the hell did he manage to outshine Dou Fei in their scene together??
And this is what you guys call a ‘traffic vase’???]
Within moments, the comments section exploded with hundreds of replies.
[Sis, you’re watching Seeking Immortality too? Hahaha, I swear, tonight’s episode absolutely blew me away.]
[Aaaaah, Jing Yin!! I love him so much! Honestly, I’ve never cared about idols or singing and dancing, but I fell for Xie Xizhao purely because of his portrayal of Jing Yin. He’s seriously good-looking, talented, and has such a great personality—ugh, TP fans are really winning in life.]
[He was so unfairly criticized before. He totally got dragged down by other idols-turned-actors who couldn’t act. But honestly, if every idol-turned-actor could reach his level, I wouldn’t have a problem with it at all.]
[His acting is seriously next level. This was the best on-screen showdown between young actors that I’ve seen in ages. Both of them were completely in sync—truly evenly matched. If Xie Xizhao decides to fully transition into acting, I think both he and Dou Fei will be strong contenders for major awards.]
—And this was just a glimpse of the overwhelming praise.
If Xie Xizhao’s previous performances had merely given people a rough idea of his acting skills, then tonight’s scene—brimming with emotion, technique, and dramatic artistry—had cemented him as the very definition of a “miracle.”
With his level of fame, there were hardly any passersby asking, “Who is he?” anymore.
Everyone knew his name. And yet, it was as if everyone was meeting him for the first time. Countless discussions revolved around his latest performance.
They were in awe. They were full of praise.
At this moment, his idol background was no longer a burden.
On the contrary, it became yet another reason for people’s astonishment.
“How did he do it?”
That was the question on everyone’s mind.
How could someone excel in both singing and dancing while also delivering such outstanding acting performances?
And how did he find the time to hone his craft to this level amidst an already packed schedule?
Was he even human?
What they didn’t know was that, at the very center of all this buzz, Xie Xizhao was already fast asleep, lost in a deep and peaceful dream. Meanwhile, behind the scenes, Yaoxin had seized the perfect opportunity.
—
What followed in the coming days was beyond anything Xie Xizhao’s fans had ever dared to dream of.
A dreamlike period.
First came the endless discussions and debates about his acting skills.
Yaoxin didn’t even have to intervene—Xie Xizhao’s name was already dominating every conversation.
With the “descent into madness” arc, Jing Yin had officially blackened, pushing the story to its most intense climax yet. Gone was the gentle and approachable senior disciple; in his place stood a ruthless, unrecognizable demon.
And so, everyone watched in stunned silence as the once-untouchable, ice-cold flower of the high mountains dyed his hands red in the blink of an eye.
Yet, despite the bloodshed, his face remained as breathtakingly beautiful as ever—so much so that even those cursing him couldn’t help but bitterly mutter, “You were meant to be a beauty.” Meanwhile, fans of unhinged characters had completely lost their minds.
What extremism? What cruelty?
To them, it was all just chef’s kiss perfection.
Jing Yin’s personality made him a storm of blood and chaos, a character people both loved and hated.
And Xie Xizhao’s uncannily perfect portrayal ensured that both he and the character became objects of obsession for character fans.
His Weibo followers skyrocketed. Every day, there were wails about Jing Yin’s tragic arc and Xie Xizhao’s acting, with grassroots fans spreading his name like wildfire. Their mental states were practically indistinguishable from the deranged Jing Yin on-screen.
But outside the fan frenzy, Yaoxin took two strategic steps.
Step one: A Variety Show Appearance
They placed Xie Xizhao on a talk show.
This particular program wasn’t the most high-profile, but it had a unique format: each episode featured only one actor, giving them a full 30 minutes to delve deep into their creative process and interpretation of their role.
The show required minimal effort from Xie Xizhao—he recorded it and left. But it was the first time he had a platform to fully articulate his understanding of a character as an actor. Of course, it was also a test.
For an actor with nothing to say, a show like this was a complete disaster.
But Yaoxin had absolute confidence in Xie Xizhao.
And they were right.
His interview resonated deeply with fans of the original character, moving them beyond words. That sentiment reached its peak when they saw the personal character notes Xie Xizhao had written himself.
That same night, even the original author reposted the interview, publicly thanking him for his heartfelt portrayal.
And the Second Move…
Yaoxin went straight to Seeking Immortality’s production team.
Their request was simple: when selecting behind-the-scenes footage of Xie Xizhao, they wanted more clips of him seriously acting—not just the usual bloopers or lighthearted moments.
By now, the Seeking Immortality crew was well-acquainted with Yaoxin. They happily agreed and even threw in a few extra clips for free.
Thus, beyond written praise, the audience was now able to see the full picture of how this role was brought to life.
Was it sheer talent? A once-in-a-lifetime miracle?
Such flattering words could certainly be used to describe Xie Xizhao.
But from these behind-the-scenes clips, what the audience saw most clearly was something far simpler—
Genuineness.
A young idol who had already reached the pinnacle of one industry, yet remained as humble as a newcomer in another. No arrogance, no impatience. He was quiet and low-key. He treated the staff with warmth, the director with respect, and the craft of acting with unwavering dedication.
In one particular clip, despite standing in the freezing cold, dressed in only a thin costume, he was still seen joking around with the crew.
With that, all doubts vanished.
Thus, three years after his debut, Xie Xizhao experienced his second explosive rise to fame.
This time, as a true actor.
From meteoric rise → controversy over his transition → public mockery → and then a resounding comeback, the past few months of Xie Xizhao’s career had been nothing short of cinematic.
And just when everyone thought this dramatic turnaround couldn’t get any more legendary, fate had one last twist in store.
Three days after Jing Yin’s descent into madness aired—
Director Hong Wu logged online.
Once again, he posted nothing.
Having learned from past experience, netizens immediately began digging through his Weibo.
Hidden posts? None.
Liked tweets? None.
But gossip-hungry netizens were nothing if not persistent. Fortunately, Hong Wu’s Weibo activity was fairly predictable. Comparing his past posts with the current ones, it didn’t take long before they noticed something different.
Hong Wu had followed one new account.
The moment this discovery was made, a strange feeling crept into everyone’s hearts.
No way…
With trembling hands, they clicked in to check.
And there it was—
The one and only newly followed account:
The Phoenix – Xie Xizhao.
