Acting as the Vicious Second Lead [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 37

At the end of the month, the television drama Dawn’s Breaking finally premiered.

Due to excellent pre-show promotion and the immense popularity of its leading lady, it had already attracted a massive following. On the day of the premiere, the production team bought trending spots and mobilized marketing accounts to flood Weibo and WeChat, creating an unstoppable momentum.

The sheer scale of the promotion left industry peers bewildered. Are they spending money like water because they’re confident they’ll make a profit, or are they just not afraid of a massive loss?

As it turned out, they didn’t just break even—they struck gold. Over the course of a single night, the show broke into the top ten ratings and racked up nearly 100 million views.

Usually, if a bad show relies solely on marketing, it loses steam within days. However, Dawn’s Breaking saw its popularity rise rather than fall. The reason was simple: the show was actually good.

It offered plenty of substance; as the leads solved cases, they provided analysis that promoted legal awareness. While the editing and acting had minor flaws, the overall quality was well above average. In a market saturated with “Mary Sue” campus romances and clichéd time-travel dramas, a thrilling suspense series with a touch of humor was a breath of fresh air.

The visuals were particularly praised. Every frame was so meticulously crafted that any screenshot could serve as a wallpaper without a filter. Producer Wang Yi was famous for this—his attention to detail was so great that it often made viewers overlook minor plot holes.

However, the level of success this time truly exceeded his expectations.

Among the viewers, three factions emerged:

The Plot Addicts: Seriously discussing the mystery and trying to deduce the mastermind.

The Visual Stan Group: Praising Qu Li’s beauty, the male lead’s handsomeness, and the female lead’s cuteness.

The Roasters: This group focused almost entirely on Yin Ni’s “eyesore” appearance in the first episode.

[EatMeds]: What is wrong with your female supporting character? I thought the girl in the cheongsam looked sexy from behind… then the camera turned around. Good god! How many layers of powder are on that pale face? And those black eyeliners—she looks like she’s trying to draw them all the way to her forehead! Is the crew’s aesthetic sense dead? I need to look at Goddess Qu Li to wash my eyes.

[NanNan]: That’s an exaggeration. Actually, Yin Ni’s features are quite good. After looking at her for a while, she’s not bad.

Because Qin Xiaoxiao’s character dressed so gaudily compared to the normal people around her, the contrast was jarring. It was a “shattering of expectations.” People assumed the director was pranking society. Fortunately, her role wasn’t huge, so she wasn’t on screen enough to be roasted constantly. As the weeks passed, the audience gradually forgot about her.

Until one month later, when Dawn’s Breaking reached its grand finale.

When the audience saw the woman in the cheongsam being chased, running frantically before falling with a pathetic “splat,” they laughed in unison. But then, as her character faced the police and began to cry out her repentance, the audience’s mood shifted. Her cries of grief were so raw that their smiles slowly faded.

Then, the male lead pulled the trigger. The gunshot rang out, and the woman in the cheongsam collapsed heavily onto the concrete.

The audience felt a complicated mix of emotions. When the truth was finally revealed, it turned out the murderer wasn’t her, but the old father himself. He had loved Liu Mei (Yin Ni’s character) deeply, but unable to satisfy her growing material greed, he reached a breaking point. He had staged his own suicide to look like a murder to frame his son, making Liu Mei the beneficiary of his life insurance.

The story was a tragedy of ignorance and vanity. Liu Mei had been tricked years ago by a criminal masquerading as a socialite, who drained her savings with fake luxury goods. After her husband died, she realized her vanity had destroyed her happiness. When the police had arrived earlier, she had fled in a panic, thinking they knew about the insurance fraud.

The final episode ended on a heavy note, but then a “post-credits” scene appeared—a montage of Liu Mei’s memories.

It was a flashback to when she was seventeen. A sunny day with blue skies. A young Liu Mei with braided hair stood by a gardenia bush. She lowered her head to pick a flower and place it in a basket.

Suddenly, someone called her name. She turned back to the camera, revealing a face completely free of makeup. Her skin was tender and fair, her eyes crystal clear and full of innocent wonder. She gave a faint smile, her brown pupils sparkling with the warmth of the sun.

In that one second, she looked spirited and breathtaking. The screen faded into a soft, nostalgic yellow.

The air remained silent for a few seconds. Then, the internet exploded.

[NanNan]: Stop dazing out! Screenshots! NOW!

[EatMeds]: Licks screen. She’s so beautiful I’m crying. I’ll never call her ugly again.

[Riding Snail Dragon]: Stunning. Now I know why that old man treasured her so much he went into debt for her. If it were me, I’d die for her too!

Meanwhile, in a high-rise office, Producer Wang Yi pointed at the screenshot on his phone and showed his assistant. “Look, isn’t this person perfect to be our male lead?”

The screenshot was Qin Xiaoxiao’s smile from the flashback. The assistant gasped. “Huh? This person is a man?” “Female,” Wang Yi corrected, staring at the photo. “But her temperament is exactly what I need for the role of Liu Zhier.”

The more he looked, the more satisfied he became. He checked the cast list. “Found her. Her name is Yin Ni. Go contact her manager. We must… no, we definitely must recruit her!”

The assistant looked awkward. “Uh, Boss… you forgot? Yin Ni was the actress Qu Li recommended before, but she changed her mind and refused to play the part.”

Wang Yi blinked. “That happened?” “Yes.” Wang Yi thought for a moment. “Get her personal number from her manager. I’ll call her myself.”

Over at Qu Li’s apartment.

Qin Xiaoxiao and Qu Li were lounging on the sofa. Xiaoxiao was lying down, her head resting in Qu Li’s lap. She was scrolling through Weibo while keeping her mouth open to be fed.

Qu Li held a porcelain bowl filled with diced fruit—oranges, apples, pineapple, strawberries, and dragon fruit—topped with yogurt and salad dressing. She used a fork to pop a strawberry into Xiaoxiao’s mouth, looking perfectly content.

It was sweet and delicious. Qin Xiaoxiao finished it and reflexively opened her mouth for the next piece. One after another. She was fully enjoying the “food delivered to her mouth” life. After days of being lazy, she had become a completely “salted fish.”

She knew this wasn’t great, but Qu Li was so gentle and took care of her so meticulously that she had inadvertently become… spoiled rotten.

Is this what they call the daily life of best friends? Xiaoxiao sighed inwardly. She never expected her first “bestie” in life would be a female supporting character from a novel.

“I say, you’re so good to me,” Qin Xiaoxiao said suddenly. “I’m becoming more and more unable to leave you. What should I do?”

Qu Li’s hand tightened on the fork. A spark of joy flashed in her eyes, and the corners of her mouth curled up. Unfortunately, Qin Xiaoxiao was focused on her phone and didn’t see it.

Then don’t leave me. Stay together forever.

“I…” Qu Li parted her lips to say it, but her phone suddenly rang.

Seeing an unknown caller, Qin Xiaoxiao wanted to hang up, but because she was mid-scroll, she accidentally swiped up and answered it.

“Who is this?” Qin Xiaoxiao asked impatiently. She thought: If this is a scam call, I’m reporting you to the police.

However, it wasn’t what she expected.

“Hello, Miss Yin Ni. I am Wang Yi, the producer and director of The Phoenix Seeks the Phoenix. I would like to invite you to play the male lead. Are you interested?”

“Not interested,” Qin Xiaoxiao said without hesitation.

“Oh…” The man sounded disappointed.

Qin Xiaoxiao paused, then decided to be blunt. “Listen, I’m not interested in cross-dressing. However, I’ve been a bit short on cash lately. If you show enough ‘sincerity’ [money], I might consider participating.”

Wang Yi: “…”

Why does she sound so unreliable? Did I call the wrong number and reach a debt collector?