Flirted Then Forgot Everything - Chapter 4

Yu Cheng and Jian Li, starring in a dual-lead film together?

Must be a prank.

Who would believe it? Who would dare believe it?

And yet, the news came directly from Yu Cheng’s official studio, leaving the public no choice but to accept it as fact.

If Jian Li’s stage-crashing kiss at the Thousand Faces Awards was a bomb dropped on the entertainment industry, then the studio’s announcement was the trigger that turned that bomb into an atomic blast. With a deafening boom, it set the entire industry ablaze.

Jian Li, who had stayed up late scrolling through his phone and slept until noon, was jolted awake by a call from Wan Tao. He honestly thought he was still dreaming.

Since when was he starring in a movie with Yu Cheng? A dual-lead one, at that?

Shortly after hanging up, Wan Tao called right back.

“Jian Li! Quick, check Yang Xu’s Xunsheng!”

Wan Tao hung up before Jian Li could get a word in, leaving him utterly bewildered. Yang Xu? Why does that name sound so familiar?

He scrambled to search for the name. Thanks to the studio’s announcement, the traffic on Xunsheng had surged to the point of a near-meltdown. After several attempts to push through the server lag, he finally reached Yang Xu’s homepage.

The moment he saw the profile picture, the face and name clicked.

Jian Li had always been active in the music scene and didn’t know much about the film world, but he’d certainly heard of Yang Xu. He’d just been too dazed by the “dual-lead” news to process it.

Yang Xu was a famous “marketing director” in the industry. Every film he touched was marketed aggressively from pre-production to release, using a kaleidoscope of tactics to ensure that the audience had a vivid impression of the movie long before they ever sat in a theater.

But he wasn’t just a hype-man; Yang Xu was a genuinely brilliant commercial director who could generate endless buzz even without a PR team.

Yang Xu’s latest post read:

“Pre-production has begun on a new dual-lead film. Leads confirmed: @YuCheng and @JianLi.”

This post, alongside the studio’s announcement, shot straight to the top of the trending lists, racking up over a hundred million views in record time. Jian Li read the post over and over until he was certain his name was actually there.

It seemed the whole world knew he was making a movie with Yu Cheng—except for him.

With Yang Xu’s involvement, the public kiss at the awards ceremony suddenly gained a logical explanation. Without even needing a push from PR, entertainment blogs and marketing accounts began speculating that the kiss was a pre-planned stunt for the movie, and that the film itself would likely feature a deep, intense emotional connection between the leads.

As if to confirm this, Yu Cheng himself finally broke his silence that afternoon.

He tagged both Yang Xu and Jian Li, writing:

“This looks like it will be an interesting collaboration. @YangXu @JianLi”

Just like that, the crisis was neutralized. While some conspiracy theories lingered, they were no longer a threat to either man’s career.

Jian Li had caused the trouble, yet Yu Cheng was the one cleaning it up.

Feeling a heavy sense of guilt, Jian Li received another call from Wan Tao that evening.

“Yu Cheng’s manager, Zhou Qingbai, just contacted me for your number. It seems Yu Cheng wants to speak with you personally about the film. Keep an eye out for an unknown number.”

Jian Li agreed softly, still reeling from the day’s events.

Wan Tao paused for a moment before saying, “Jian Li, since Yu Cheng has provided a way out, we’ll just follow his lead. You’ve never acted before, so I’ll find an acting coach at the company for you to train with.”

Jian Li understood. If it hadn’t been for this scandal, Wan Tao would never have let him near a film set.

Not long after, his phone rang. He took a deep breath as he looked at the unfamiliar digits and answered.

“Hello, this is Jian Li.”

“Hello. This is Yu Cheng’s manager, Zhou Qingbai.”

Hearing that it wasn’t Yu Cheng himself, Jian Li let out a long sigh of relief.

Zhou Qingbai, however, misinterpreted the sigh and teased, “What’s wrong? Disappointed it’s not Yu Cheng?”

Jian Li’s nerves spiked again. Strictly speaking, he didn’t know Zhou Qingbai; the man shouldn’t be speaking to him with such familiarity.

“Tsk.”

The system suddenly let out a flat clicking sound in his mind, instantly reminding Jian Li of his past “conquest” attempt. If he really had a history with Yu Cheng, then Zhou Qingbai definitely knew who he was.

The denial on the tip of Jian Li’s tongue changed at the last second. “I just thought it was him.”

There was a brief silence on the other end. Realizing how that sounded, Jian Li scrambled to backtrack. “No, no, that’s not what I meant.”

Zhou Qingbai gave a polite chuckle and dropped the teasing, moving on to business. “I assume you know about the movie. We should schedule a time to meet so I can give you the script.”

He trailed off mid-sentence. Jian Li could faintly hear someone else speaking in the background, though the voice was too low to catch.

Zhou Qingbai smoothly corrected himself: “Actually, we’d like you to come in for an audition.”

“An audition?” Jian Li blurted out.

So, the lead role wasn’t settled? Then what was the point of the posts from the studio and Yang Xu? Was it really just to kill the scandal?

“Yes, an audition. You understand that in your current situation, starring in this film is your smartest move or rather, auditioning for it is,” Zhou Qingbai added, sounding somewhat helpless toward the end.

Jian Li was confused by the manager’s contradictory phrasing, but he agreed to meet the next day at Yu Cheng’s studio. After hanging up, he tried to call Wan Tao, but the line was busy.

A moment later, Wan Tao called him back. “Is it settled?”

“Yu Cheng’s manager called. He wants me to audition tomorrow,” Jian Li said hesitantly.

Wan Tao didn’t seem surprised. “An audition makes sense. They probably want to test your potential. Prepare well tonight and just give it your best effort tomorrow.”

After hanging up, Wan Tao scrolled through his computer, looking at the contract Yang Xu had already emailed him. The name for one of the leads was already filled in: Jian Li.

He didn’t know why Yu Cheng and Yang Xu were lying to Jian Li about an “audition,” but it wasn’t hard to guess it had something to do with what happened a year ago. If Jian Li hadn’t caused such a mess, Wan Tao would never have let the two of them cross paths again.

But things were now spinning out of his control.

Though told to “prepare well,” Jian Li had no acting experience. All he could do was stay up late watching a few of Yu Cheng’s old movies. He had seen them all many times before—they were his go-to boredom killers, though he’d watched them less frequently over the past year.

Jian Li used to be a fan of Yu Cheng—or perhaps not a fan, just someone who deeply admired his work. In the seven years since Yu Cheng’s debut, Jian Li had seen every single one of his films.

In his memories prior to the accident, he and Yu Cheng were strangers. The industry was small, yet they had never once run into each other. Since his memory loss, however, they crossed paths often, but Yu Cheng never had a kind word for him. Gradually, Jian Li’s admiration had soured into dislike, and he stopped keeping up with the man’s work.

As the movie played, Jian Li drifted off to sleep, missing the mechanical drone of the system in his mind:

“System repair progress: 50%. Favorability evaluation module not yet fully restored.”

The next morning, Jian Li arrived at Yu Cheng’s studio early.

It turned out Zhou Qingbai hadn’t been lying about the audition. The studio was packed with people. Everyone was holding a two-page script excerpt. Jian Li recognized several popular young idols and even a few well-known veteran actors.

As soon as he arrived, a staff member handed him his own excerpt. He took it to a corner, feeling the atmosphere turn prickly the moment he walked in. Several young actors shot him hostile looks. Out of everyone there, Jian Li was the only one with zero acting credits.

Not wanting to mess up, he buried his head in the script. If he failed to get the part after the public announcement, he would be the laughingstock of the industry.

Leaning against a wall, he studied the two thin pages. The plot wasn’t overly complex, but it was incredibly intense. He read intently, whispering the lines to himself, failing to notice the noisy room suddenly go quiet.

“Pulling him close, his thumb roughly tracing his lip, Lip? Their breaths intermingling.”

The content of the audition made Jian Li’s cheeks flush. He couldn’t imagine how he was supposed to perform this—especially in front of so many people.

Jian Li forced himself to push aside his embarrassment. Closing his eyes, he began chanting the lines under his breath, mentally constructing the scene. As he visualized the moment, he spoke the dialogue aloud, stepping backward to match the character’s movements.

“I don’t love you anymore. Your concern disgusts me, and your possessiveness is suffocating. Every moment spent with you is—”

He took two steps back and accidentally stepped on someone’s foot. His lines cut short, and he stumbled, nearly losing his balance.

A hand reached out and caught him firmly. From above, a low, deep voice laced with irritation drifted down:

“Jian Li, you’re always so reckless.”

Jian Li snapped his eyes open and turned around. He found himself face-to-face with Yu Cheng, who was looking down at him with dark, piercing eyes that radiated an overwhelming sense of pressure. Yu Cheng held him by the arm, his chest pressed against Jian Li’s back.

Jian Li blinked, his almond-shaped eyes looking somewhat helpless as a faint flush crept onto the edges of his ears. His lips parted, but no words came out.

Yu Cheng’s brow furrowed slightly as he released his grip. He glanced at the script crumpled in Jian Li’s hand and spoke coldly:

“If you fail this audition, I can replace you at any time—regardless of the announcement my studio already posted.”

Jian Li nodded blankly, only coming to his senses once Yu Cheng had walked away.

Tsk, what’s with the attitude.

The system’s voice chimed in:

“Host, a reminder: you have an active conquest mission. It is advisable to have more contact with the target to promote an increase in favorability.”

Jian Li hesitated for a moment but decided against chasing after him, fearing it might only backfire.

The audition began shortly after. When Jian Li saw Yu Cheng walk onto the stage, he realized with a jolt that Yu Cheng would be acting as the scene partner for the auditions himself.

Yang Xu, the film’s director, was also present. Seated below the stage, he noticed Jian Li and gave him a small nod.

Jian Li thought back to the emotionally charged lines on those two thin pages—the physical tension, the pulling and shoving—and the faint pink on his ears deepened, spreading across his cheeks and down his neck.

Is this what making a movie is like?

He hadn’t expected things to be this intense right from the audition!