I Transmigrated Into A Fanfiction And Got Pregnant With The Movie Star's Child - Chapter 3

Catching sight of the wound on He Chenchen’s lip, Ji Xing instantly recalled a specific detail from last night. He had felt somewhat suffocated at the time, yet He Chenchen refused to let up, prompting Ji Xing in his anxiety to bite the man right on the lip.

Remembering this, Ji Xing’s ear tips quickly flushed red. Not daring to meet He Chenchen’s gaze, he hastily averted his eyes, wishing he could find a crack in the floor to crawl into and hide.

Fortunately, Xiao Lin reacted quickly, taking the initiative to nod toward He Chenchen and say, “Good morning, Teacher He.”

“Morning,” He Chenchen replied, his tone revealing nothing unusual.

Right at that moment, someone down the corridor called out to him, pulling him away.

“He’s turned into the elevator,” Xiao Lin said.

Hearing this, Ji Xing finally dared to step out of his room.

“Why is he here?” Ji Xing asked nervously. “Is he coming to confront me?”

“I heard a door closing right before we stepped outside. He might be staying right across from you.”

Ji Xing froze, realizing this was undoubtedly another one of this world’s so-called coincidences. It was probably because their rooms were located so close to each other that he had blindly walked into the wrong door last night, though as for why He Chenchen had actually opened the door for him, he had no idea.

Meanwhile, inside the elevator.

He Chenchen stood with a dark expression, his entire body radiating an aura that practically screamed stay away from strangers.

Yet the troublemaking friend beside him had zero intention of accommodating his mood, leaning in deliberately to stare at his mouth for a good long while before asking, “What happened to your mouth? Who bit you?”

“Get lost,” He Chenchen said coldly.

“Tsk, such a fiery temper. Did someone toy with your affections and abandon you?”

“Nobody is treating you like a mute if you don’t speak.”

He Chenchen shot him a sidelong glance and strode out of the elevator.

The man wore an expression that clearly said he was just there to watch the show, quickly following after him.

The production crew’s logistics coordinator and the assistants for both He Chenchen and the other man were waiting in the lobby, hurrying forward to greet them as they emerged. He Chenchen cast a brief look back toward the elevator before saying nothing more, surrounded by the crowd as he left the hotel.

A few minutes later, Ji Xing and Xiao Lin dawdled their way downstairs.

On the car ride to the recording location, Ji Xing asked Xiao Lin for the show’s background materials and familiarized himself with the content to avoid making any blunders on set.

Actor Training Camp lacked any real originality, feeling like a mashup of currently popular acting competition shows. This was understandable; the fan who wrote the story focused primarily on shipping characters and didn’t bother investing too much effort into the show’s mechanics, as long as it provided opportunities to throw the two main leads together during recording.

The first day’s recording content was quite straightforward, focusing mainly on the introduction between mentors and trainees. Each trainee would be assigned a scene script to perform briefly on site, allowing the mentors to offer critiques and select suitable trainees to build their respective teams.

This variety show format had been thoroughly beaten to death in the domestic entertainment industry. If placed back in his original world, an actor of He Chenchen’s caliber would never accept such a variety show. If Ji Xing remembered correctly, the man had seemingly never appeared on any variety show whatsoever.

However, things were different inside fan fiction. Fans always loved arranging for their favorite ships to participate in various variety shows, cleverly pairing up two people who had zero prior intersection in real life.

Upon arriving at the set, the staff first directed Ji Xing to the makeup room. The production team had specific requirements for on-screen actors, meaning that even as a male trainee, Ji Xing needed to have basic makeup applied before filming.

To his surprise, the moment Ji Xing sat down in the makeup room, He Chenchen walked in right behind him and took the seat directly beside his. Startled, Ji Xing forgot even to greet him, keeping his head lowered and not daring to look at He Chenchen.

“Teacher He, the production crew has arranged a private makeup room for you,” the nearby makeup artist reminded him.

“No trouble needed. Just do a simple touch-up for me,” the man said in a flat tone, carrying an unquestionable sense of oppression.

Ji Xing held his breath, terrified of drawing He Chenchen’s attention. Yet sitting right there as a fully grown person made it rather difficult to go unnoticed, especially given those flushed red ears of his, which looked exceptionally eye-catching at a glance and made someone want to reach out and pinch them.

“Did you sleep well last night?” He Chenchen suddenly spoke up.

Ji Xing fell silent for a few seconds before cautiously lifting his head, only then realizing that He Chenchen’s question was directed at him.

“Teacher He, I… I slept pretty well,” Ji Xing forced himself to reply.

“Hm.” He Chenchen’s gaze swept over him before adding, “Those pants fit you quite well.”

Hearing the man mention the pants, Ji Xing was so frightened he nearly tumbled out of his chair. Yet looking through the mirror, he failed to detect any hidden meaning on He Chenchen’s face, forcing him to comfort himself with the thought that the comment harbored no deeper intentions.

“Thank you, Teacher He. Your pants fit you well too.”

“If you like them, I can give you a pair.”

Ji Xing:

He must be overthinking things. The movie emperor’s words definitely didn’t have any secondary meaning.

Fortunately, other people soon entered the makeup room, bringing an end to the conversation about the pants.

During the official recording, the script Ji Xing drew happened to be a horror film fragment. Scenes requiring this level of emotional fluctuation offered a massive advantage in variety-style performances; as long as the actor wasn’t completely wooden and gave it a decent effort, the result wouldn’t be too embarrassing.

Ji Xing carefully studied the script, ran through the scenes a few times with his co-star, and finally felt a bit more confident.

“Ji Xing, which teacher’s team do you want to join?” Lü Wei, the actress paired up with him for the scene, asked while they were waiting backstage.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Ji Xing answered honestly. Anyone’s team was fine except He Chenchen’s.

The show featured a total of five acting mentors: a heavyweight from the theater world, two television actors, and two film actors. The original author had been bold in their imagination, inviting top-tier figures across both television and film to serve as mentors, a spectacle that would be virtually impossible to witness in the real entertainment industry.

Ji Xing remembered that in the original text, the mentor he chose first was Pei Yun, a television emperor whose status in the small-screen sector roughly matched He Chenchen’s standing in the film industry. Both were young award-winners known for their solid reputations and acting prowess.

However, he hadn’t known at the time that the relationship between Pei Yun and He Chenchen was somewhat complicated. Ji Xing’s choice of Pei Yun in the original text had inexplicably stirred up He Chenchen’s jealousy, a jealousy that had accumulated over time and ultimately fallen squarely on Ji Xing’s head.

This time, he was determined not to choose Pei Yun.

As for the remaining three, any of them would do.

In another studio room, the five mentors sat at their panel, watching the live-switched feed broadcast on the big screen. On the screen, Ji Xing was huddled away in the absolute corner, looking like a tiny, inconspicuous ball that failed to draw any attention at first glance.

Yet a closer observation would reveal his unique quality.

While the other trainees overflowed with enthusiasm or wore flashy outfits, desperate to capture every ounce of attention on camera, Ji Xing alone remained uncompetitive and somewhat spaced out, as if the surrounding commotion had nothing to do with him at all.

He Chenchen’s gaze landed on the screen, lingering on that tiny huddled figure for a long time until the camera angle shifted away.

At that moment, Ji Xing was indeed somewhat distracted. When drawing lots for the performance order earlier, he had unfortunately pulled number two, which meant his group would take the stage immediately after the first group finished.

He was naturally prone to anxiety, and the mere thought of facing He Chenchen shortly made his mood increasingly complicated.

If not for fear of dragging down his groupmate, he would have even considered performing terribly on purpose just to get eliminated in the first round. But Xiao Lin had reminded him on the way that this production crew loved stirring up drama; if his performance looked too dismal, not only might he not get eliminated, but he might also end up turned into a trending topic for low-starting-point hype.

With no other choice, Ji Xing had to abandon that thought.

Soon, the auditions officially began.

A long corridor separated the two studios, and after the first group entered, Ji Xing and his groupmate Lü Wei were ushered into the backstage waiting area.

Expecting to wait for a while, he was surprised when less than ten minutes passed before the staff signaled that they could go in.

Ji Xing took a deep breath and followed Lü Wei into the studio. He deliberately controlled his gaze, trying his best not to make eye contact with He Chenchen. Yet whether due to psychological suggestion or not, the moment he stepped into the studio, he felt a gaze lock firmly onto him.

That gaze carried overwhelming pressure, feeling almost tangible and scorching enough to make Ji Xing’s breathing gradually turn shallow.

Fortunately, the performance piece for their group happened to be a horror sequence. The actress played a female ghost seeking vengeance, while Ji Xing portrayed a scumbag who had betrayed her. Pitting themselves against each other, Ji Xing’s expression of terror and remorse matched his current state of mind remarkably well.

“Why did you betray me…” Lü Wei advanced step by step, rage burning in her eyes.

Ji Xing’s face turned pale, his eyes reddening with fear as if he might burst into tears at any second.

“I’m sorry, can you let me go?” Ji Xing asked in a trembling voice.

“Let you go? In your dreams!” Lü Wei snapped, reaching out to grab Ji Xing by the throat.

Ji Xing instinctively closed his eyes, and a single teardrop of a suitable size suddenly slid down his cheek. He couldn’t even tell whether he had simply gotten too deep into character or if the pressure from that piercing gaze was simply too much to bear.

“Not bad, both of them did well,” Pei Yun remarked from the mentor’s seat.

This Pei Yun was none other than the same troublemaking friend who had given He Chenchen a hard time in the elevator early that morning.

Though friends in private, the two men possessed completely contrasting personalities. He Chenchen was reserved and stern, while Pei Yun was warm and outgoing, making it hard for outsiders to imagine how such two individuals had ever formed a friendship.

Their group’s performance went reasonably well, and Lü Wei secured a team-joining card from the Best Actress mentor on the spot. Once Lü Wei departed, Ji Xing remained the sole trainee standing on stage. He stood quietly under the spotlight, hardly daring to breathe, resembling a sacrificial lamb radiating innocence from head to toe.

“Teacher He, care to say a few words?” Pei Yun actively called upon He Chenchen.

Ji Xing’s heart instantly leapt into his throat as he mustered the courage to look at the man. The makeup artist had covered the wound on He Chenchen’s lip, making it far less obvious than it had been in the morning, leaving only a faint trace behind.

He Chenchen met Ji Xing’s gaze, his expression remaining unchanged. Yet Ji Xing couldn’t help feeling a wave of worry, fearing He Chenchen might suddenly speak up and invite him directly onto his team, even though the original text didn’t unfold that way.

“Acceptable,” He Chenchen offered sparingly, clearly showing no intention of issuing a team-joining card to Ji Xing.

Ji Xing instantly let out a sigh of relief, though that reaction, falling into He Chenchen’s eyes, caused the man’s brows to knit slightly.

“Ji Xing, do you have any mentors in mind?” Pei Yun asked him.

This guy perfectly embodied the fan fiction setting: talkative and fond of stirring up trouble.

“I’ll obey the arrangements of all the teachers,” Ji Xing replied.

In the original story, in order to avoid He Chenchen during this segment, he had actively expressed a desire to join Pei Yun’s team, but he certainly wouldn’t repeat that mistake this time.

The theatrical heavyweight sitting nearby suddenly spoke up, “This child looks quite well-behaved and retains a student’s innocence. Rare indeed.”

“Teacher, would you be willing to teach me?” Ji Xing seized the opening to ask.

The theatrical heavyweight was over sixty years old, belonging to a completely different generation from Ji Xing and the others, and held a position of high respect within the industry. Ji Xing felt that joining this group would be relatively stable, and he genuinely enjoyed this teacher’s stage plays.

“Little friend, I like you quite a bit, but I’d like to think it over a bit more and observe your future performances.”

“Alright, thank you, teacher,” Ji Xing bowed to him without showing any disappointment.

Most of the trainees participating in the program were young newcomers with little background, so getting rejected by a senior wasn’t an embarrassing thing.

In the original novel, Ji Xing’s first performance failed to secure any mentor cards, landing him in the pending pool instead. According to the show’s mechanics, only a third of the trainees would be selected on the spot, while the remaining two-thirds had to undergo further observation and selection by the mentors. If he performed well and impressed the theatrical teacher, he might still secure a spot in that group successfully.

Because he failed to receive any mentor cards, Ji Xing entered the pending zone just like in the original text.

Inside the studio.

Pei Yun looked over Ji Xing’s profile and turned to He Chenchen, saying, “This kid is pretty good. His acting foundation might be a bit weak, but his malleability is strong. I like him.”

He Chenchen’s brows twitched in an almost imperceptible frown, but he remained silent.

“Do you want him? If you don’t, I’m snatching him up,” Pei Yun said, placing a checkmark next to Ji Xing’s profile.