Chapter 42: Sculpting an Uncut Gem
Liu Li said, “By the way, back at the venue, did you notice a foreigner in the audience wearing a mask? That was Etienne.”
Etienne is a firm believer in romanticism. He wanted to see Yue Zhaolin in person but declined the ticket offered by Xingqiong, saying that buying a ticket himself would make the moment feel more ceremonial.
The venue for the fan meeting wasn’t as large as a stadium, so if you paid close attention to the audience, it was easy to spot someone who stood out.
In Yue Zhaolin’s memory, the man didn’t seem particularly special—just like other fans, he frequently lifted his phone to take pictures of him.
Yue Zhaolin said, “So it was him.”
Liu Li nodded.
She had originally planned to introduce Yue Zhaolin to Etienne after the fan meeting, but Etienne had declined.
Because Yue Zhaolin was on a tight schedule—after the event, he needed to remove his makeup, wash his hair, and rest to prepare for the next shoot.
So Etienne felt it wasn’t the right time for greetings.
Liu Li thought, ‘Here come the French stereotypes again—not only do they value romance, but they’re also surprisingly considerate.’
It also showed how much Etienne valued and respected Yue Zhaolin.
But in truth, it went even deeper than that.
—
Before coming to China, Etienne had done all his homework. Preparing a VPN to bypass the firewall was one thing; he also made sure to familiarize himself with commonly used Chinese apps.
For instance, Weibo—which holds a similar status to Instagram.
Etienne registered a new account under the username “eth.d.” and often searched for “Yue Zhaolin” on it. He had memorized both the pinyin and Chinese characters for Yue Zhaolin’s name, so he used a pinyin keyboard.
He had already become quite adept at typing the name.
So after the fan meeting ended today, Etienne skillfully logged into Weibo and searched for “Yue Zhaolin,” then used another phone to translate the full screen.
Some of the tedious steps, Etienne actually found enjoyable—such was the charm of a muse. It made him want to explore everything related to Yue Zhaolin.
[The number one snake-plastic figure in domestic entertainment] was translated as [the first serpentine incarnation in China’s indoor entertainment industry.] Hmm, barely understandable—but Like.
[Yue Zhaolin should drink more in the future. That slightly tipsy, detached, emotional, and lazy vibe—it’s delicious.] —Like.
[Just making eye contact with him through the camera makes me nervous. I’m not worried about his…] —Like.
[Eight hundred trending searches a day—any pig would be famous by now. There are so many real societal issues that can’t even make it onto the hot search. Can this Old Monkey stop taking up public resources?]
Etienne frowned. That comment was clearly unfriendly, and it wasn’t the first time he’d seen this nickname. He replied: [That’s very rude. You shouldn’t refer to Yue Zhaolin as an Old Monkey.]
The user replied: [Triggered, monkey simp?]
[Monkey and chicken? I don’t understand what you mean.]
[LMAO, monkey-simp’s tricks just keep coming. Weren’t you the one pretending to be a rich solo stan before? Now you’re acting all innocent?]
While Etienne was translating, the other person had checked his profile and mocked:
[You think posting a few lines in French makes you a real foreigner? At least buy a decent VPN. Your IP shows you’re in Haicheng. What a joke! Your acting sucks—just like your master. [vomit emoji][vomit emoji][vomit emoji]]
That was definitely not a compliment.
Etienne: “Alright then.”
Etienne wasn’t known for having a good temper. Even his collaborators had called him harsh and cutting—so of course, he fought back. Always.
—
Ten minutes later.
“What?”
With the hairspray washed out and hair being blow-dried, Yue Zhaolin heard some new information from Liu Li—Etienne had just gotten into an online argument with ancient-danmei CP fans.
Calling it an “argument” was a stretch, though—because as soon as Etienne verified his identity, the other party deleted their account and ran.
Yue Zhaolin: “?”
At first glance, it sounded like two people from completely different universes had suddenly collided.
Liu Li let out a breath and said, “Zhaolin, you really are… born to be famous.”
Just like Yue Zhaolin once said—two parties that were never supposed to cross paths somehow did. That’s a novelty in and of itself.
And the public has a natural curiosity for gossip. Add in the “embarrassment gone international” effect, and there’s no way it wouldn’t go viral.
The moment Liu Li heard the news, she immediately had her assistant contact top creators on Bilibili and gossip influencers on Douyin to help “amplify the story.”
Yue Zhaolin would be the clear beneficiary.
After hearing Liu Li’s plan, Yue Zhaolin sincerely thanked her.
Liu Li did mean to take some credit. As long as Yue Zhaolin recognized the company’s capabilities, he would be more inclined to renew his contract when it expired.
—When it comes to major decisions, emotional appeals are just a bonus. The core is always—interest.
“Once your hair’s dry, we’ll head to the church. There’s no air conditioning there, so I’ve brought some heat packs just in case.”
Yue Zhaolin nodded. “Okay.”
Xingqiong had negotiated with the church to shoot during its closed hours, when there would be no tourists around. They paid a sizable location fee for that privilege.
—
Once they arrived, Yue Zhaolin immediately understood why there was no air conditioning—the solemn and elegant Gothic architecture, the red brickwork, the towering spires.
Its deep historical weight was obvious at first glance. Installing air conditioning would’ve ruined its cultural value.
Etienne had arrived a bit earlier than Yue Zhaolin, but he looked full of energy and had changed into a new outfit. His eyes were fixed solely on Yue Zhaolin as he got out of the car—with such focused intensity that, judging by his expression alone, one would never guess he had just been in a major online scuffle.
“Nice to meet you, Yue Zhaolin. I’m Etienne.”
He spoke in Mandarin. Though his pronunciation wasn’t perfect, his speech was fluent and clearly well-practiced.
Yue Zhaolin shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Perhaps it was the intensity—or rather, the fanaticism—in Etienne’s gaze that prompted Liu Li, without missing a beat, to suggest they first decide on Yue Zhaolin’s outfit.
Etienne replied, “Oh… let me think.”
He had come thoroughly prepared. Today’s shoot was for the magazine’s inner pages; as for the cover, they’d wait until Yue Zhaolin got into the right mood to shoot it in the studio.
One of Etienne’s assistants stepped forward, pulling out a concept sketch that Etienne had drawn by hand. The title of the first sketch was “Lucifer in the Confessional.”
The confessional is where believers confess their sins to a priest, express remorse, and receive the priest’s intercession and absolution.
In the sketch, the priest and the sinner share the same face—both are Yue Zhaolin.
—In Western mythology, Lucifer was originally a six-winged angel known as the “Lightbringer” created by God, who later fell from grace and became a demon.
Dominating the sketch was the angel, and on the other side of the confessional wall sat the demon in a priest’s robes, listening to the angel’s confession.
For this shot, the angel would need to wear heavy wings, so they decided to shoot the priest character first. Once both were photographed, the two personas would be composited together.
Etienne had already given precise styling instructions to his team, so as soon as Yue Zhaolin arrived, they could start on hair, makeup, and wardrobe right away.
Changing clothes, styling his hair, applying makeup—by the time Yue Zhaolin opened his eyes again and looked in the mirror, he still had black hair and black eyes, but this makeup…
“Like a succubus,”
One of the makeup assistants whispered.
And not just any succubus—an elegant one, the kind who could enchant you with a single glance.
Several videographers sent by Xingqiong had already begun filming Yue Zhaolin’s transformation from various angles during makeup, but Liu Li still felt it wasn’t enough—so she asked Yue Zhaolin to take selfies.
They could be turned into photocards later.
When Etienne saw the “final look,” he was visibly thrilled, saying something in French with a tone full of emotion. Then he turned even more affectionate toward Yue Zhaolin.
He preferred to speak to Yue Zhaolin directly in English now—anything but going through a translator again.
—
The confessional was a typical open structure—the priest sat in the middle, flanked by partitions that separated him from the believers.
Etienne gave Yue Zhaolin detailed direction: sit in the priest’s chair, lean your upper body lazily across the side platform, and gaze toward the opposite side of the screen.
It was Yue Zhaolin’s first time doing a magazine shoot, so he wasn’t that experienced. Etienne didn’t mind at all—after all, there’s a special kind of satisfaction in sculpting an uncut gem.
“Moon, more arrogant. More seductive. Imagine you’re tempting the angel across from you—tempting yourself into falling.”
“Falling is evil, yes, but also rebirth. A descending star lights up the night sky.”
“You know ‘evil’ has long taken root deep in the soul of your former self. Temptation is just the final push. Be more flippant.”
“When you face your past self—what do you feel? Pity? Affection? Contempt?”
“You smiled. Yes—that’s it!”
Etienne’s voice echoed throughout the confessional, guiding Yue Zhaolin through every moment of the shoot.
Liu Li watched the entire process from the sidelines. When Etienne finally captured the image he wanted, she double-checked the results—then let out a deep, relieved breath.
The effect… was extraordinary.
The next part, portraying the six-winged angel, would be much simpler—just a prayerful silhouette from behind.
For Yue Zhaolin, the hardest part was wearing the heavy, ornate six-winged costume while maintaining a prayer pose without hunching his back.
By the time the shoot ended and the wings were removed, the pressure points where the wing base had pressed against his body were chafed raw—he was bleeding.
But the result was undeniably worth it. The wings looked so natural it was as if they had grown from his back.
Liu Li frowned. “Zhaolin, go get that taken care of first. If tomorrow’s shoot doesn’t work out, we’ll deal with it then—Etienne’s visa is valid for a while.”
Yue Zhaolin hissed from the pain but replied, “It’s fine.”
It wasn’t him trying to act tough—it had to do with tomorrow’s schedule.
Tomorrow, Etienne planned to shoot the magazine cover, where the six wings would appear in a damaged state—half gone, and the rest stained in black and crimson.
Yue Zhaolin would also be in a battle-worn state.
So he wouldn’t need to stand or sit upright. He’d simply be curled up in a hay-filled box, cradling a symbolic devilish lamb.
The wings would be draped behind him, requiring no effort to support.
——
[Goose Gossip Group | In the middle of the night, one person’s vote count in the data thread suddenly spiked like a right angle]
——
[Original post]
RT.
Take a guess who?
[attached screenshot]
[1F] Whoa, that spike looks like ghost soldiers marching through town. Who sent in the bot army?
[3F] Was it Crown Prince Ying, Pretty Boy Chu, or that guy who’s allergic to alcohol?
[7F] Pfft, these code names are killing me 😂
[11F] Come on, how many seasons of idol survival shows have we seen now? Even old fans know those three are definitely debuting, but their votes always underperform—they’re the “royalty” with underwhelming support.
So if anyone’s stuffing votes, it’s gotta be them, right?
[18F] Just checked the data group…
You guys are NEVER gonna guess who it really is…
[23F] You really think we won’t guess it? Then I’ll shoot for the absurd—Emperor Yue?
[25F] ……
[29F] ?
[34F] Wait, for real?
[42F] ?!
…No way, he wouldn’t need to bot the votes! He’s already way ahead—what’s the point?!
[67F] I’d rather believe a rival fanbase is botting votes for Emperor Yue than believe he’s doing it himself.
[88F] Looks like no one in Goose Group wants to believe it. Congrats, Goose Group just became Monkey Group.
[100F] Uh… are we forgetting that Starlight still has overseas votes?
[103F] Ah…
[122F] Emperor Yue’s multilingual “thank you” post has gone viral on international platforms. There are several tweets with over ten thousand retweets, and likes are in the hundreds of thousands. He’s seriously gaining fans—so what we’re saying is…
[133F] I checked Twitter—no lie, the goose upstairs is right. Foreign girls are actually voting… it’s wild…
[145F] Someone uploaded a full translated version of the fan meeting on YouTube. The sudden spike in votes? It’s not just the foreign girls—Thai fans are voting too, and Thai stans are data beasts. The surge came right after they stayed up all night watching the translated version and started voting hard. They want Emperor Yue to say something in Thai next time. And with the way the numbers are climbing, just wait until the Korean and Japanese fans wake up—it’s only going to go crazier.
[156F] Subbed video overseas…? I don’t get it. All that just because of one little thank-you?
[166F] Alright, let me be fair here. A foreigner saying “wo ai ni” can instantly melt a panda girl’s heart—so why can’t Emperor Yue saying “I love u” or “saranghaeyo” gain overseas fans too?
[188F] Everything’s flipped upside down, but it feels so damn good!!
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