Superstar Ch.142

Chapter 142: “Then a hundred percent.”

In truth, Xie Xizhao usually wouldn’t embarrass someone so directly.

There was too much scheming in the entertainment industry. Although he and Yu Lin were acting in the same drama, they were not in the same boat. To put it bluntly, dramas were merely stepping stones to enrich their resumes and achievements. In a dual male-lead show, if one actor became popular, the other would inevitably suffer. Even if they promoted a CP together, the hype would eventually have to be filtered. Rather than a shared interest, it was more of a competition.

The reason he was cast in Specter back then was partly because of Hong Wu and partly because of the production team. But that did not mean Yu Lin had stepped back for Hong Wu or the production team’s sake.

Yu Lin valued this drama so much and agreed to let Xie Xizhao join the cast for only one reason—because Xie Xizhao was merely a stepping stone on his path to winning an award.

How could it not be?

A top-tier idol, naturally attracting traffic and controversy. His acting seemed decent, but that could just be luck. Moreover, transitioning from an idol to a respected actor came with an inherent disadvantage. He was the perfect foil—

—As long as Xie Xizhao didn’t win the Stellar Best Actor award.

Xie Xizhao could easily imagine how Yu Lin felt when he won.

Just as Yu Lin himself had once said, at first, Xie Xizhao was just another traffic-driven celebrity living within his prejudices. And this award was like a ruthless slap across his face.

It wasn’t just that his dream of stepping on a mere stepping stone to win had shattered—it was also a mockery of his years of hard work.

What had taken him over a decade to achieve, his junior had accomplished in just two dramas.

It was the cruelest and most direct comparison.

Since he could imagine and understand it, when Yu Lin claimed to be sick and didn’t attend the ceremony, Xie Xizhao hadn’t felt anything. Even if Yu Lin had stabbed him in the back, it was within his expectations.

But that didn’t mean he was willing to waste his time engaging in polite pretense with him.

As soon as Xie Xizhao finished speaking, Yu Lin stood up and left.

He had a touch of neurosis in his nature—talkative, overly attentive, and obsessed with maintaining a flawless reputation. Xie Xizhao could see it clearly. It was a mental issue caused by years of suppressing his true self and enduring repeated failures. Not exactly an illness, but certainly not normal either.

That was also why Xie Xizhao chose to be blunt with Yu Lin.

Simply put, if you were subtle with a neurotic person, they would see you as easy to bully—like a rabbit caught in a trap.

Only by acting unpredictably and breaking the usual rules could you make them feel uneasy and uncertain.

But it would only go as far as making them suspicious and unsettled.

When his assistant called him out for the next scene, Xie Xizhao closed his script. The scene he was about to film played in his mind like a movie.

He wouldn’t say he was frustrated.

But this situation was definitely trickier than usual.

He stood calmly for a moment, adjusted his emotions, and then walked out of the break room.

—

Their afternoon shoot didn’t go as smoothly as the morning one.

The main reason was Yu Lin.

In Xie Xizhao’s eyes, Yu Lin and the character Di Shuo shared some similarities but also had significant differences. The similarity lay in their mental state and inner nature. The difference was that Di Shuo was a criminal genius with a high IQ, while Yu Lin was just a talentless parrot.

If he said this out loud, Yu Lin’s fragile heart would surely take another hit. But unfortunately, Xie Xizhao was simply stating the truth.

In their first scene, it was obvious that Yu Lin had rehearsed endlessly. The problem with such mechanical preparation was that when his mind drifted, his already robotic performance became even more lifeless. No matter how you looked at it, something just felt off.

And this was supposed to be a simple, everyday scene.

The scene was still set in Di Shuo’s home, but at this point in the timeline, the murder of his mother had not yet occurred. Di Shuo had orchestrated several “coincidental” encounters with Huo Xiangyang, establishing a relationship that hovered between friendship and something more ambiguous. In this scene, after wrapping up a case, Huo Xiangyang happened to be nearby, and Di Shuo invited him over.

The summer sunlight was warm. The murderous psychopath spotted the pure and righteous little lamb, and suddenly, he was in the mood for some fun. Inviting him into his home, his demeanor was relaxed and teasing. Before Huo Xiangyang rang the doorbell, Di Shuo was still wiping down a kitchen knife.

It was this simple action that tripped Yu Lin up multiple times.

He was completely out of sync, making it nearly impossible for him to convey the unsettling sense of pleasure and ease that came from treating murder as a form of relaxation.

By the seventh time Meng Xuran called “Cut,” his voice already carried a hint of frustration.

Suppressing his impatience, he asked, “Mr. Yu, are you feeling unwell?”

Yu Lin’s face was a bit pale, and he quickly apologized.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “I think I haven’t fully recovered yet—I’m a little dizzy.”

His sincerity made it difficult for Meng Xuran to push further. Glancing at the sky, he decided, “Let’s call it a day for now.”

Yu Lin was helped away by his assistant, while Xie Xizhao moved to the side to remove his makeup.

Just then, Fang Qingqing arrived after finishing her work. She sent her own assistant off to rest and buy food, then handed Xie Xizhao a bottle of water. She looked a little surprised. “What happened?”

“Mr. Yu isn’t feeling well,” Xie Xizhao replied.

Fang Qingqing raised an eyebrow. “Unwell again?”

Meng Xuran, who happened to be walking by: “……”

He glanced at the sharp-featured female manager in front of him, trying to detect even a trace of mockery on her face. But her expression remained completely natural—

As if she were simply stating a fact.

Meng Xuran fell silent for a moment, reflecting on his own cynical thoughts. Then, hands clasped behind his back, he walked away.

On the other side, Fang Qingqing curled her lips. “Old fox.”

Xie Xizhao said, “Let’s talk in the room.”

They returned to the hotel, and before long, the assistant arrived with their meals. As she handed him his food, Fang Qingqing lowered her voice. “I’ve talked to Director Hong. He said that whatever moves we make next, he’ll fully cooperate with us.”

She hesitated for a moment before adding, “And the scriptwriter—are you sure they really can’t adjust the character settings?”

Her tone was urgent, tinged with frustration.

Though he felt the same regret, Xie Xizhao answered honestly, “We brought it up during the script reading a couple of days ago. They won’t change it.”

He paused. “The investors are backing him, and Meng Xuran is his old classmate. This script was tailored specifically for him. Do you think they’d be willing to alter it?”

A brief silence filled the air. Fang Qingqing’s expression darkened.

—

That was the real issue.

In fact, the moment Xie Xizhao first read the script, he had already suspected that Yu Lin had manipulated things behind the scenes.

This was a crime investigation drama. Even if the goal was to create a compelling antagonist, the logical approach would be to balance both sides. Turning the protagonist into a mere plot device—no matter how well disguised—would inevitably throw the entire narrative off balance.

Over-glorifying the villain was already a risky move. In the worst-case scenario, it could even be condemned as morally questionable. He couldn’t fathom how any scriptwriter, even a semi-professional one, would go this route.

Unless someone had paid extra for it.

And that was precisely what confirmed his suspicion—

That the mastermind behind the earlier fabricated controversies had been Yu Lin all along.

After all, even if someone wanted to go after him, they wouldn’t usually take such a reckless gamble unless they had an urgent need to suppress his momentum—immediately. With Specter about to start filming, Yu Lin’s need was indeed the most pressing.

But in the entertainment industry, identifying the culprit was only the beginning.

Xie Xizhao could easily choose to withdraw from the project. But first, as he had worried before, it would give people ammunition to call him unreliable. And second, while Yu Lin certainly wanted him to quit, Xie Xizhao was sure that Yu Lin would never allow him to leave without a stain on his name. They had a contract, and on paper, Xie Xizhao was the one at a disadvantage. No one in this industry would pass up such a perfect opportunity to strike at a competitor.

Not to mention, Yu Lin held grudges so tightly he could probably fit them through the eye of a needle.

At this point, the situation felt like a deadlock.

Since Xie Xizhao’s last statement, Fang Qingqing had been furiously typing messages on her phone while stabbing at her beef bowl with a stiff expression. One piece of beef was being relentlessly poked, its juices spilling everywhere.

Xie Xizhao knew she was upset. After all, going ahead with the project like this meant swallowing the insult.

He hesitated for two seconds but ultimately decided not to rescue the suffering beef. Instead, he changed the topic. “I had a falling-out with Yu Lin today.”

“Hm?”

Fang Qingqing snapped out of her thoughts. “That’s a good thing.”

“You’re already in this mess,” she continued. “You might as well drop the pretense. Being all buddy-buddy with him would just be disgusting.”

She shrugged. “Honestly, these behind-the-scenes fights rarely spill out into the open. I’d almost suggest you just let things rot. It’s not like Meng Xuran is any better.”

Xie Xizhao chuckled.

“So, I have to make this character a complete tool.”

Fang Qingqing’s breath hitched as the realization hit her.

She stared at Xie Xizhao, who silently raised his hands in surrender. “I only thought of it this morning.”

“If it were possible,” he continued, “of course, the best option would be to drop out or get the script changed.”

But that wasn’t an option.

So—

He had to take the character apart.

Fang Qingqing’s pulse quickened. She quickly sorted through everything in her mind.

The public was already being guided toward the belief that Xie Xizhao had only benefited from the role and its character setup. If Specter treated both leads as equals, then this line of attack would certainly apply to Yu Lin, but it wouldn’t clear Xie Xizhao of the accusation either.

More importantly, there was no way to definitively refute the claim. After all, no serious actor would willingly accept a role that was clearly just a supporting tool. That would be a complete waste of—

Her thoughts stopped abruptly.

But what if he did?

What if Xie Xizhao deliberately performed the role as a one-dimensional tool?

Fang Qingqing felt her fingers tremble slightly. She exhaled sharply and put her spoon down with a clatter.

She glared at Xie Xizhao.

He just smiled.

“So, that’s the plan?” she asked.

His gaze was calm, clear, and steady. “That’s the plan.”

Fang Qingqing hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I’ll have Pei Yiman prepare a PR strategy in advance. We’ve already traced that account back to the company behind the push—it’s one of their in-house marketing accounts. If we time it right, exposing that will be strong evidence. The script… the script…”

If they could leak the full script after the show aired and tie it in with the exposé, industry professionals would definitely analyze the character balance. The only concern was whether the production team would betray them.

“Talk to Meng Xuran,” Xie Xizhao said. “Get him on our side. We can’t be the ones to leak the script. And I have something else to discuss with him—character adjustments. The role is too flat right now. He should be worried, too. If we don’t tweak it, the show is guaranteed to be criticized for glorifying the villain.”

Otherwise, Meng Xuran wouldn’t have acted the way he did toward Yu Lin today.

The only explanation was that he wasn’t happy with the situation either. After all, no one wanted to be branded as someone who promoted a warped moral stance.

Fang Qingqing frowned. “…What if he’s not afraid?”

“He will be,” Xie Xizhao said confidently. “Because by bringing this up, you’re essentially telling him that we’re already displeased. So even if no one criticizes the show when it airs, we’ll make sure our own PR team helps fan the flames.”

He paused. “Besides, I only need minor adjustments. Convincing Yu Lin won’t be hard.”

Yaoxin Entertainment probably wouldn’t go as far as orchestrating something like this. That was because the company, from its employees to its leadership, had a moral standard far above the industry average.

But Meng Xuran wouldn’t see it as an empty threat.

Fang Qingqing: “…”

That… actually made sense.

Now, all the problems were handled—except for the last one.

Fang Qingqing looked at Xie Xizhao, her throat suddenly dry. “If you use this role to turn the tables… how confident are you?”

“If we go with the current character setup,” Xie Xizhao said, “fifty percent.”

Fang Qingqing parted her lips slightly, hesitating. Then she asked tentatively, “And if…”

“If it gets changed?”

Xie Xizhao paused for two full seconds.

In that stretch of time—though brief—it felt infinite, and Fang Qingqing was hit with a sense of déjà vu.

That rush of adrenaline, the kind that made her breath hitch, the kind that felt like standing on the edge of a precipice, ready to take a leap—she hadn’t felt it in a long time. The last time was when Xie Xizhao told her he was going to take Tao Yan’s Summer.

She had learned her lesson back then—she didn’t say anything.

And Xie Xizhao hadn’t let her down.

“If I can change it,” he lowered his gaze, “and if I make the changes myself…”

“Then a hundred percent,” he said calmly.

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