Chapter 56: Crying Child NPC
Most luxury brands are stingy when it comes to giving out titles, so in the Chinese entertainment industry, the level of title a celebrity receives often reflects their status within the circle.
Among the titles, brand ambassador is the highest. Within that category, a global ambassador ranks higher than a China region ambassador, and a full-line ambassador ranks higher than a single-product ambassador.
Below ambassadors, there are brand representatives, brand friends, and those with no official title who are just used for promotion.
Brand D is especially stingy.
Its evaluation period is long—assessing a celebrity’s influence, public image, and compatibility with the brand—and even then, the titles it gives are tight-fisted.
No matter how popular a celebrity is, they must start off as a brand friend. If they want to be promoted to brand representative, they’ll have to endure and wait it out.
The last person who got promoted from brand friend to brand representative was actress Zhou Lingran. She had two hit dramas and even won a Best Supporting Actress award before she was finally promoted to brand representative.
That’s why when the gossip groups try to fabricate a narrative, they only dare to claim someone became a brand friend. After all, they still need to stick to believable facts—saying someone became a brand representative would be too fake.
But brand friend? That’s just right.
People will believe it.
As soon as the Weibo post titled [Real tea, not fake tea] went up, the prepared comments started flowing in, subtly steering the narrative.
[Is D brand about to mass-produce brand friends again?]
—implying that the brand friend title is cheap.
[They call themselves a luxury brand, but even luxury labels have to rely on sales to maintain their prestige. So it’s not surprising that D brand signed a bunch of brand friends.]
In other words, even luxury brands have to bow down to the masses.
[Mid-June, D brand is holding a high jewelry exhibition—chances are, Yue Zhaolin will attend?]
If the main star is going, will the fans follow?
[It’s not just celebrities from C-ent and foreign entertainment who get invited, influencers too. Not very high in value.]
Even if he goes, it doesn’t mean much.
But if he doesn’t go, and fans take the bait and show up at the event, people can screenshot it later and mock him for having sky-high ambitions but failing to curry favor.
That would definitely be a blow to his fanbase.
[If D officially announces him, they’ll open a solo product link immediately and push fans to buy—classic leeks-harvesting tactics.]
No one likes being treated like a leek (being exploited).
Spending money by choice is one thing—being pressured into spending is another.
Even if Yue Zhaolin really does become a brand friend of D in the future, this kind of comment is basically sowing discord between his fans and the luxury brand.
Fans’ sentiment directly affects sales. If the sales flop, will a luxury brand like D still treat Yue Zhaolin kindly?
Even if he does land the brand friend title, when the contract ends, it likely won’t be renewed.
—Which is why this tactic is called “raising gu” (breeding venomous insects to pit them against each other).
It’s all acting.
Other gossip bloggers will also keep pairing Yue Zhaolin with Douceur. They don’t need all the fans to believe it—just a portion. That alone is enough.
Those involved are too deep in to see clearly, while outsiders can see the game. Fans might not realize what’s going on, and even if they do, it’ll still leave them feeling disappointed.
As for why the gossip groups are so skilled at this—because this kind of tactic is very common in the industry.
And yet, the first response from Yue Zhaolin’s fanbase was—
[I don’t really understand all this, but if he becomes a brand friend, will D give him a magazine cover push? I really want to buy the new issue.]
…
Why are they only focused on the magazine?!
—
Starlight Building.
The prank was still ongoing.
Not just anyone could be chosen as the target of a prank involving Yue Zhaolin—after all, any interaction with him meant a spike in popularity. So the people selected to interact were all confirmed “royalty”—those guaranteed to debut.
Fu Xunying, Chu Li, Zhu Zhu (7th place in the first round of voting), and Rong Ruize (11th place in the first round).
If the first two were the production team’s obvious favorites, then Zhu Zhu and Rong Ruize were the hidden royals—quietly ranking high and sure to debut.
Some people didn’t realize it was a prank, but others had already been told in advance—it was all acting.
Which is why someone overacted.
—Yue Zhaolin looked at Rong Ruize in front of him, who had covered his mouth in shock with widened eyes the moment he heard the fake news that Yue Zhaolin was quitting the show.
“How could this happen…”
Rong Ruize gasped softly.
Yue Zhaolin’s expression turned solemn: “…”
He wanted to laugh.
Because Rong Ruize’s dramatic hand-over-mouth move was so stereotypically girly. Even idol dramas didn’t act like this anymore.
Realizing how Yue Zhaolin was looking at him, Rong Ruize knew he’d overacted. His face flushed red.
“Sorry, Zhaolin, my acting’s not very good, okay? Can we do it again?”
Rong Ruize was backed by capital from Hong Kong and Taiwan—he was born in mainland China but moved to Taiwan when he was very young—so his speech carried a distinctive accent.
Yue Zhaolin also noticed that he tended to end most of his sentences with little modal particles like “ye,” “ah,” “la,” and “lo.” They popped up all the time.
It was kind of cute—and oddly contagious.
After listening for a while, Yue Zhaolin almost found himself unconsciously picking up the same tone.
While thinking this, Yue Zhaolin wiped the smile off his face, pretending he had just finished saying he was quitting the show, and gave Rong Ruize another chance to act.
This time, he nailed it in one take.
Staff: “Zhaolin, great work. Today’s recording will be made into the ‘April Fools’ Prank Special’ and aired on April Fools’ Day.”
A little festive fun from the production team.
Yue Zhaolin: “Got it.”
After watching the performance for a while and relaxing a bit, he figured it was time to get back to dance practice.
On the way back, he passed by another practice room. As soon as he got close, the noisy voices inside fell silent, prompting Yue Zhaolin to glance inside.
Everyone in the room had gathered around someone. In the center were Tan Shen and… a child in his arms.
Yue Zhaolin: “?”
Looking closer, it was a young brown-haired boy who looked like a mixed-race kid. He was clinging tightly to Tan Shen’s neck and refused to lift his head.
Then came a clear, childish voice:
“Daddy—”
Tan Shen’s face instantly scrunched up, like he was holding a live grenade.
“I’m not your dad.”
“Daddy.”
Tan Shen spoke with the gravity of a life lesson, trying to reason with the little landmine in his arms:
“You may think I look like your dad, but I’m actually your older brother. Call me ‘brother.’”
“Daddy.”
Tan Shen: “……”
This three-year-old kid was clinging to his collarbone—he couldn’t put him down, or else there’d be crying and wailing—but the moment he held him, the boy went quiet. A walking paradox.
Out of the corner of his eye, Tan Shen caught a glimpse of someone at the door.
“Hey, Yue Zhaolin, help me out here.”
The servant’s out of commission.
It was the first time Yue Zhaolin had seen Tan Shen so flustered, and curiosity instantly sparked. He couldn’t help wondering—was this a prank, too?
But before he could say anything, Tan Shen suddenly blurted out:
“Just remember—I’m single.”
Yue Zhaolin: “?”
When the child finally lifted his head from the crook of Tan Shen’s neck, Yue Zhaolin immediately understood why Tan Shen had said that line like a preemptive disclaimer.
Both the grown-up and the kid had mixed-race features—especially the eyes and brows—they really did look biologically related.
Tan Shen: “I don’t know where he came from, but he’s dead set on calling me dad. I’ve been falsely claimed! Yue Zhaolin, quick, judge him!”
Yue Zhaolin let out a quiet laugh.
In the hidden-camera prank series, his theme had been the “quitting the show” drama. Based on this setup, Tan Shen’s theme was clearly “Where Are We Going, Dad?”
The production team was really going all out.
Since this part was Tan Shen’s spotlight, Yue Zhaolin decided not to interfere and said with a smile, “He only clings to you—he must like…”
He didn’t even finish the sentence when the mixed-race child stared at him for a moment—then reached out his hands.
“?”
Yue Zhaolin tilted his head in confusion.
The little boy seemed to have latched onto Yue Zhaolin now too, squirming in Tan Shen’s arms, trying to move toward him.
“Brother… big brother…”
Tan Shen: “?”
Why’s he suddenly willing to say “big brother” now? Is this turning into a father-son trap?
Tan Shen looked on as the kid wriggled out of his arms and nestled into Yue Zhaolin’s. The boy was now staring at Yue Zhaolin without blinking. An inexplicable sense of danger crept over Tan Shen—
‘You and I are the same type?’
But Yue Zhaolin didn’t seem to mind. He simply let the child cling to him, nestling against his neck. Tan Shen clicked his tongue—
‘Just wait till I’m younger—I’ll do that too.’
…
The mixed-race boy turned out to be a guest child on a parenting reality show produced by GreenFruit platform. He had come to cameo as an NPC for the prank segment—but the moment he heard it was time to leave, he burst into tears.
In the end, the child made the painful choice of leaving with his parents instead of staying with Yue Zhaolin—though he kept turning back with every step.
The entertainment value? Through the roof.
Watching from the sidelines, the staff thought: Yue Zhaolin and this cute kid actually have pretty good chemistry. Could he do a parenting show in the future?
…
Truthfully, Yue Zhaolin didn’t like children very much. In the past, to save up for living expenses, he’d worked countless part-time jobs at tutoring centers and as a private home tutor.
He’d been through a lot.
The moment you stepped into the classroom, it was always a mix of spicy snack smell and stinky shoes. Boys and girls alike shrieked at the top of their lungs—pure chaos.
Especially the fifth and sixth graders: the ones who just spaced out during class were considered angels. Then there were those playing on their phones, cursing nonstop, and constantly fighting.
It was a nightmare.
But this little boy had been really well-behaved.
Yue Zhaolin, who held a double standard for obedient vs. disobedient children, concluded: ‘He’s not annoying. But still, best not to spend too much time around kids—for both our sakes.’
‘…Wait a second.’
Suddenly, Yue Zhaolin remembered something—he had signed up to take the teacher certification exam this year.
But didn’t take it.
His grandma had always hoped he’d become a stable, well-paid teacher—with no worries about food or clothing, and summer and winter vacations.
Now, his future had completely gone off-script.
And yet—he was happy.
…
Yue Zhaolin returned to Group B of Crane Bell.
Chu Li wasn’t there, but the other three teammates—Shu Yang, Orleans, and Mao Ding—were already drenched in sweat from practice, pushing themselves to be flawless.
It wasn’t necessarily for the dream or for the money—but whatever the reason, they had to train.
Being in the same group as Yue and Chu was already an absurd stroke of luck. If they didn’t work hard now, they had no business trying to break into showbiz. They might as well just go home.
Yue Zhaolin picked up his sword, and began to train.
A week later, Yue Zhaolin would dye his hair a new color, get extensions for the long hair typically used in historical costumes, and change into a set of custom-made clothing for the second performance rehearsal.
A completely new style.
A completely new stage.
His new hair color would be a silvery white with more visible white tones. But the actual dyeing would be done just a day or two before the second performance began—otherwise, the black roots would start to show.
“Hair dyeing, huh…”
He felt a little excited.
It might sound strange to say, but Yue Zhaolin genuinely felt this way—
He had never dyed his hair before, so this felt like a moment of identity transformation—a kind of freedom that came with finally being able to take full control of his own life.
Everything was a new experience.
And everything he had gone through, all the love and support he had received—these, too, were entirely new feelings for him.
He still wasn’t used to it.
Would he ever get used to it?
He didn’t know.
Yue Zhaolin smiled in excitement and threw himself into practice with even more effort.
This time, he had a lift segment, so the very least he could do was not let himself down.
The fluency of his practice, the final presentation on stage—these were the things he could control, the most direct way to respond to the audience.
He would push himself to the limits of what his effort could achieve.
It didn’t have to be perfect, but—
He would never allow himself to regret it.