Chapter 128: He Wants to Play My Male Lead
When Xuan Yang woke up after pulling an all-nighter, it was already past eleven in the morning.
With his hair sticking up like a bird’s nest, he blindly groped around the bedside with his eyes still closed—only to successfully knock his charging phone off the table. A thunderous crash echoed through the narrow rental apartment.
Xuan Yang: “…”
His drowsiness vanished instantly as he lay sprawled on the bed like a corpse.
A cream-and-orange tabby cat leaped down from the windowsill and, without an ounce of courtesy, started walking back and forth across his stomach. Irritated, Xuan Yang grabbed it by the scruff of the neck and found himself staring into a pair of innocent brown eyes.
Three seconds later, he let go and dropped the cat back onto the blanket, getting up with a belly full of frustration.
His phone had landed face down; fortunately, only the tempered glass screen protector had cracked slightly.
Using the fractured edge as a guide, Xuan Yang ate his late breakfast while jotting down today’s inspirations in his notepad. The cat wriggled in his arms, fur flying everywhere. Just then, a new pinned message popped up in his work group chat:
[Holy sh*t! Xie Xizhao’s assistant just contacted me!]
Xuan Yang’s mind went blank for a moment.
By the time he snapped out of it, his already battered phone had suffered yet another blow. But he had no time to check on it—he snatched it up from the floor, grabbed his house keys, and dashed out the door.
The moment he stepped outside, he spotted a slightly chubby man waiting by the courtyard gate.
The man was wearing a baseball cap and an unzipped jacket, his clothes a bit disheveled—clearly, he had just left the house as well. A cigarette dangled from his lips as he leaned against his electric scooter.
“Director Xuan, need a ride?”
Xuan Yang, lips trembling, hopped onto the back seat.
The scooter sped off, racing toward the studio.
The entire ride, his phone kept vibrating non-stop.
As they arrived, Xuan Yang stared at the endless stream of messages in the group chat—and for some reason, standing at the doorstep, he suddenly felt a surge of nerves.
The slightly chubby man beside him didn’t notice Xuan Yang’s moment of hesitation. Instead, he casually called out into the courtyard, “Xiao Wei, Director Xuan is here!”
Not long after, a young girl in a pink-and-white dress came running out.
She lowered her voice. “Brother Wei, keep it down!”
She subtly gestured toward the house.
The man raised an eyebrow. “He came in person?”
“He did.” The girl still seemed a little dazed. “He brought his manager along, plus a driver. They just arrived. I was on the phone telling them we were available anytime, and they immediately said they’d come over to talk. I didn’t expect them to be this close.”
She hesitated for a moment before adding, “Right now, Sister Bai is keeping him company. I really didn’t expect someone of Xie Xizhao’s status to come negotiate in person… Director Xuan?!”
She watched, wide-eyed, as the previously silent and disheveled man beside her suddenly tripped over a small stone on the ground. Keeping a perfectly straight face, he waved a hand at her. “I’m fine.”
The moment he finished speaking, he stepped on the same stone again.
Before he could fall, the chubby man grabbed him by the arm, steadying him. Then, with absolute certainty, he said, “Xiao Wei, tell Sister Bai to stall for another five minutes.”
“Got it.” The girl turned and went inside.
The man held onto Xuan Yang’s shoulder and locked eyes with him seriously. “Xuan Yang, calm down.”
Xuan Yang’s lips moved. “That’s Xie Xizhao.”
The man sighed. “…I know. Just another overrated top star.”
Even as he said it, he sounded a bit guilty.
Xie Xizhao’s current popularity wasn’t something as simple as “top star” could describe—he was both an actor and an idol, reigning over the entertainment industry like a one-man powerhouse.
But before they could dwell on it, something else quickly stole their attention.
As soon as he finished speaking, the person in front of him repeated, “Xie Xizhao is here.”
The man: “…”
Xuan Yang lifted his head, his eyes burning with excitement. “He read my script. He’s very interested. He wants to play my male lead.”
The man: “…”
Xuan Yang was about to continue when the man suddenly grabbed his shoulders and shook him hard. “For f*ck’s sake, I KNOW your idol likes your script and you’re excited, but he’s in your studio, not in your bed! Can you stop looking like your life is already complete and get yourself together? Go in there, negotiate the contract, and lock him in today, or I swear to God I’ll beat some sense into you!”
The world fell into silence.
The door curtain lifted again, and the young girl peeked her head in. “Uh… Brother Wei, five minutes are up.”
“We’re coming.” Du Wei smiled at her.
Then, without hesitation, he grabbed Xuan Yang by the collar and dragged him inside.
Hearing the commotion, the man who had been curiously studying the artwork on the wall turned his head. Sunlight spilled onto the side of his face, tracing clean and gentle lines along his features.
For a moment, the air seemed to still.
—
Of course, Du Wei had seen Xie Xizhao before.
Not just on TV screens and in countless advertisements.
But also on his dear director’s phone wallpaper. And on the office walls of their studio.
There was no doubt—this was an incredibly good-looking man. But Du Wei had never been into this type. While the internet and Xuan Yang raved about Xie Xizhao, he had always remained indifferent.
But at this moment, he had to admit—
In an industry overflowing with beauty, for someone to single-handedly define mainstream aesthetics with just their looks… well, at the very least, his face was the real deal.
His distraction only lasted a few seconds.
Du Wei quickly snapped back to reality and casually extended his hand. “Hello, I’m Du Wei.”
“I’m the executive director of this project.”
“Hello.” Xie Xizhao shook his hand politely.
His voice was gentle—not particularly crisp, but soft and slightly husky, making it pleasant to the ear.
Du Wei was about to introduce the person beside him when he heard Xuan Yang speak first. “Were you looking at that painting?”
The room instantly fell silent.
Technically speaking, it wasn’t a particularly impolite question.
The rudeness didn’t stem from the words themselves but from the fact that this was Xuan Yang and Xie Xizhao’s first meeting—potentially the start of a business collaboration. Jumping straight into a question without any pleasantries made the interaction feel abrupt.
Du Wei’s eyelid twitched violently. He could already see the woman behind Xie Xizhao looking at them as if she’d just seen a ghost.
He recognized her.
Fang Qingqing.
Everyone in the industry knew that Yaoxin treated Xie Xizhao like a prized treasure. His team was top-tier, and there were even rumors of them setting up a personal studio for him.
Among his team, the most famous figure was his manager.
Sharp, protective, and quick-witted.
This young woman had risen rapidly alongside Xie Xizhao, growing into a formidable gold-medal manager. Over the past few years of his meteoric rise, she had weathered countless storms and had long become a force to be reckoned with.
She was not someone to mess with.
Du Wei was just about to step in and smooth things over when the same gentle voice responded, “Yes.”
“It’s beautiful,” Xie Xizhao said.
There was no sign of offense in his tone. He even answered Xuan Yang’s question with an air of calmness.
Following Xie Xizhao’s gaze, Du Wei looked over at the painting.
It was the same piece Xuan Yang had bought and immediately dismissed as “a complete mess of scribbles.”
The lines were chaotic, the colors vivid and bizarre. The entire painting lacked a clear theme—just a wild combination of strokes and hues.
But Xuan Yang loved it.
Buying it had cost him a significant portion of his savings.
Now, he had found someone who understood it.
Du Wei watched as the confusion on Xuan Yang’s face melted into delight. With a bright “I think so too,” he launched into an enthusiastic explanation of the painting’s creative concept.
And in front of him, the superstar with countless fans—the man who could walk through the entertainment industry like he owned it—just stood there patiently listening. Not a hint of impatience showed on his face. He even took the time to exchange thoughts with Xuan Yang.
After about five minutes of discussion, Xie Xizhao said warmly, “Director Xuan has a very unique perspective.”
Du Wei: “…”
“Ah, not really…” Xuan Yang’s face turned red.
“You do,” Xie Xizhao affirmed.
He paused for a moment before adding, “But we’re a little tight on time today. I have a shoot this afternoon. How about we continue our discussion about the painting another time and focus on the film for now?”
With that single sentence, everyone snapped back to reality and returned to their roles.
Xuan Yang hurried off to grab materials from the office.
Meanwhile, Du Wei looked at Xie Xizhao, his initial indifference toward the man shifting into admiration.
—
Though it was their first meeting, there wasn’t much to discuss.
The script and character bios had already been sent to Yaoxin beforehand. Xie Xizhao had clearly read everything, and even when Xuan Yang occasionally digressed, he was quick to follow along.
The main topics for this meeting were scheduling and payment.
The schedule had been set in advance, but when the discussion turned to Xie Xizhao’s fee, Du Wei hesitated.
Fang Qingqing didn’t even lift her head as she flipped through the schedule, absentmindedly confirming the time slots. “Director Du, if you have something to say, just say it.”
She seemed particularly assertive today.
In truth, she had a rather gentle appearance. Du Wei guessed that she wasn’t too happy with this project. He had no idea what had convinced her to even entertain the idea.
Of course, that wasn’t his concern.
His problem now was that he was about to say something that would likely make her even less pleased.
Since she had told him to be direct, he decided to be direct.
“Well, um…” He rubbed his hands together and said, “We didn’t expect Mr. Xie to become this famous so quickly.”
Fang Qingqing: “…”
Who could’ve seen that coming?
Du Wei sighed inwardly, feeling a bit dejected.
When they initially sent the script to Xie Xizhao, aside from Xuan Yang’s personal admiration, their reasoning had been simple—his image and temperament suited the role, and since he was transitioning from an idol to an actor, his asking price wouldn’t be too high.
In short, they had hoped to get a bargain.
What they hadn’t expected was for him to skyrocket to fame overnight.
…Now they couldn’t afford him.
Honestly, the fact that Xie Xizhao had even considered coming back to negotiate with them at this point felt like something out of a fairy tale.
Hearing Du Wei’s words, Fang Qingqing looked up in disbelief.
A moment later, she replied coldly, “Apologies, but Xizhao was never cheap to begin with.”
Du Wei coughed awkwardly. “Miss Fang, no need to make it sound like we’re negotiating human tr*fficking. What I mean is—”
Before he could finish, Fang Yuwei, standing beside him, swiftly clamped a hand over his mouth.
At that moment, Xie Xizhao spoke. “What’s the price per episode?”
He hadn’t said much throughout the meeting—most of the negotiations had been handled by Fang Qingqing.
But everyone present could see that he was the one with the final say.
Bai Ruo, who had first greeted them, quickly stated a number and then hurriedly explained, “It can go higher. This was just the initial quote, we—”
“Let’s go with that,” Xie Xizhao said.
He answered so quickly that it seemed like asking about the price was just a formality.
After speaking, he glanced at his watch and apologized, “Sorry, I have to go. You can send the contract directly to legal. If there are no issues, I’ll come back to sign it.”
He stood up, and Fang Qingqing capped her pen—a motion that felt like a warrior sheathing her sword.
Her expression remained ice-cold, making everyone in the room nervous.
But she said nothing further and simply followed Xie Xizhao out. Bai Ruo walked them to the door, watching as they got into the car. When she turned back around, she found the entire room staring at her.
In the silence, Fang Yuwei muttered, “So… this is what it means to be a top star? He seems… really easygoing?”
“I thought so too…” Du Wei, who was wiping the fruit knife he had just used, looked dazed. “And he actually agreed to that price? Is he doing charity work or something?”
Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Xuan Yang—who had been completely out of it since Xie Xizhao left—finally came back online.
He leaped up, grabbed his phone with its shattered screen protector, and started tapping furiously.
Moments later, Xie Xizhao, who was already in the car on his way back to the company, felt his phone vibrate.
—
When Xie Xizhao reached for his phone, Fang Qingqing was still talking. He unlocked the screen, and the first thing he saw was a picture of a “little cat making a bow” as a greeting. The cat in the image was plump with a hint of laziness, looking at people as if they were mere servants.
He chuckled in slight surprise. The next moment, he heard Fang Qingqing’s wistful voice:
“Xizhao, are you listening?”
Xie Xizhao immediately put away his phone.
“I’m here,” he cleared his throat and replied.
Then, after a brief thought, he added, “As for the pay… 600,000 per episode isn’t too bad, right?”
Pay in the industry was entirely dependent on trends. In the worlds he had experienced, some circles were extravagant, offering sky-high fees, while others had more regulated and reasonable standards.
In the world he lived in now, 600,000 per episode was undoubtedly too low for someone of his popularity.
But for Xie Xizhao himself, who had come from a scholarly family, material wealth and money had never been of much importance. He could tell the production team wasn’t well-funded, and a significant portion of their budget would likely be spent just to pay him.
Fang Qingqing choked for a moment. “…”
After a brief silence, she muttered under her breath, “If this price gets out, the industry will think we’re total fools.”
Although it sounded like a complaint, he knew from her tone that she had already compromised.
Xie Xizhao understood this well. He simply smiled, lowered his voice, and whispered, “Then let’s keep it a secret. We won’t tell anyone.”
His tone was like a child making a pinky promise in kindergarten.
Fang Qingqing felt both exasperated and amused.
After a while, she asked, “Have you really decided to take this drama?”
Her tone was serious, and Xie Xizhao’s expression also became more solemn.
He replied firmly, “I want to give it a try.”
Fang Qingqing fell silent for a moment.
Although she was Xie Xizhao’s manager, she had never lost her temper with him. In fact, between the two of them, he was usually the one making the decisions. In the past, whenever he insisted on something, she would simply go along with it.
But this time, she was still hesitating.
That was extremely rare, and both Xie Xizhao and Fang Qingqing knew exactly why.
The moment Fang Qingqing read the first line of the script, an ominous feeling rose in her heart.
She skimmed through the plot summary, then searched for the director’s name. After typing it into Baidu Baike, the search engine quickly returned a result.
Xuan Yang, male, twenty-seven years old.
Graduated from the Directing Department of the Beijing Film Academy. Representative works: Rose Stem, New Year’s Eve.
She searched for the titles of both dramas, and the results nearly made her black out.
Not only were the casts filled with actors she didn’t recognize, but the Douban ratings barely even hit triple digits—enough to leave her in a daze.
After a long pause, she scrolled down with a glimmer of hope, intending to check the reviews.
Maybe it’s critically acclaimed but just not commercially successful, she thought.
The target audience might be small, but Xie Xizhao had star power.
If the quality was good, then with Xie Xizhao’s popularity, it might actually succeed both critically and commercially.
Despite this hopeful line of thinking, she was already preparing arguments to persuade Xie Xizhao to back out. As she thought about how to convince him, she kept scrolling.
First review:
[No idea what this was trying to be. A complete mess. Couldn’t get past ten minutes.]
Second review:
[I don’t get it = . = What’s this even about…?]
Fang Qingqing: “…”
She was utterly crushed.
Without wasting a second, she went to find Xie Xizhao and explained the situation to him. Then, remembering something, she let out a breath of relief. “Good thing I haven’t contacted them yet. There’s still time to back out. Xizhao, go back and pick a few more scripts—just as backups.”
Xie Xizhao neither agreed nor disagreed.
The next day, Xie Xizhao called Fang Qingqing.
Over the phone, he was on his way to a music show stage. His voice was hoarse from staying up late, and he said, “Sister Qing, I watched Director Xuan’s past works last night. I think… it’s worth a try.”
…Fang Qingqing remembered.
That day, she had felt the same way she did now.
She simply couldn’t bring herself to let Xie Xizhao, who had such a promising future, take on a project that was doomed to flop. That conviction only grew stronger after meeting with the team behind Tao Yan’s Summer today.
Honestly, at this point, she would rather have Xie Xizhao play a supporting role in a big-name director’s blockbuster.
Even if it was a smaller role, at least it wouldn’t be a waste of time.
“You saw it just now too.” After a brief pause, she tried a different approach to persuade him. “This is nowhere near what a professional team should look like. They have no real understanding of your commercial value or your skills.”
Thinking about how disorganized the people she had just met were, she felt frustrated all over again.
What level was Xie Xizhao at?
Not only had he sat in that shabby little office making conversation, but they even had the nerve to bargain with him.
Did they even realize how unlikely it was for someone like Xie Xizhao to show up there in the first place?
But Xie Xizhao simply said, “Sister Qing, I don’t think a team’s level of professionalism necessarily determines the quality of a film. Especially when it comes to art films.”
Fang Qingqing, feeling numb, asked, “Then what does?”
Xie Xizhao hesitated for a moment.
The car pulled up in front of the company, and the driver got out first.
Fang Qingqing didn’t actually want to argue anymore. She had a kind of blind trust in Xie Xizhao. She was just about to say, ‘Since you’ve made up your mind, I’ll have the legal team review the contract, and if everything checks out, we’ll sign’—but before she could, she heard Xie Xizhao speak.
“It’s talent,” he said.
