Perfect Divorce [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 14

Huo Yangqing had already mentioned when they met that he had “de-fanned” the moment Yuan and Ye got married.

His last update was a like on someone else’s “leaving the fandom” post. Yuan Xingzhou had never dared to read the departing comments of his fans, but now, after all these years, he finally mustered the courage to take a look.

That particular post was actually quite gentle. The blogger simply expressed regret, stating that in her heart, Xingzhou was a hard-working and talented singer whose strength deserved to be seen by more people. The ST group had not been kind to Yuan Xingzhou; with the group’s disbandment, “Porridge” fans were all waiting for his rebirth, hoping he would take the opportunity to break out of his cage.

But unfortunately, he chose to get married. For an idol, marriage was equivalent to giving up on being an idol. His presence was already weaker than the others; without fans, how could he continue moving forward?

Unless he intended to give up. If that was the case, besides wishing him a happy marriage, she could only feel heartache for the years she had “misplaced” her devotion.

Yuan Xingzhou had debuted in a talent show at nineteen. He competed for a year, was “frozen” for two, and spent two years doing group activities with ST. Before he knew it, five years had passed.

He had achieved nothing, and his fans had left in disappointment.

To say there was no regret or guilt was impossible.

“I really loved the stage back then. Especially during the first concert; I was so excited. After the performance, I wanted to take a proper bow to say thank you, but I was rushed off.”

Yuan Xingzhou sat on his stool, thermos in hand, and smiled at Huo Yangqing. “The marriage back then was a bit sudden… but honestly, at that time, I had lost confidence. I was twenty-four—too old even to be ‘re-cooked’ (re-debuted). Do you think I could still get famous? So I thought… whatever, I’ll do something else.”

Ye Huai had left the day after meeting his little fan. Yuan Xingzhou finally had some peace and quiet, thinking he could finally sleep well in his own bed. However, man proposes and God disposes. That very night, he began a grueling schedule of night-to-day-to-night filming.

Actors from the crew were wrapping up their scenes one after another. The coordinator was frantic, and the filming schedule was a mess.

Yuan Xingzhou comforted himself, thinking there weren’t many scenes left anyway, while half-deadly drinking strong coffee to stay awake.

Huo Yangqing’s scenes wrapped up tonight. While waiting for his turn, he chatted with Yuan Xingzhou, and somehow the conversation drifted to the “de-fanning” storm of years past.

Yuan Xingzhou still felt a sense of guilt.

Huo Yangqing, however, said: “Move a tree and it dies, move a person and they live. Aren’t you much better off now than back then? If I were your ‘career fan,’ I’d be ecstatic.”

Yuan Xingzhou smiled and let out a silent sigh.

“Though, being your fan back then was pretty exhausting.” Huo Yangqing was still puzzled. “Think about it—you sing well, you dance well, so why didn’t you get famous? It’s one thing if you couldn’t beat Ye Huai; that guy was born with a star face. But what could Yuan Cheng and the others do? They couldn’t read sheet music or play instruments, yet they spent all day faking a ‘genius’ persona. It disgusted me to death.”

Huo Yangqing paused, then suddenly looked at Yuan Xingzhou. “I heard Yuan Cheng is releasing a song in a few days. No doubt he’ll use some shady operation to drag you into it again. Be prepared.”

After the group disbanded, Yuan Xingzhou thought he was done with those people, but he was wrong.

When his dramas aired, as long as his character trended, Yuan Cheng’s fans would jump into the topic to promote their idol, saying the two were best friends in the group and that Yuan Cheng often helped Yuan Xingzhou—claiming that “excellent people like to play together.”

When the CP with Ye Huai became a hit, Yuan Cheng’s fans brought out video clips and GIFs, saying Yuan Cheng had it “so hard” having to cover for these two troublesome people.

Yuan Xingzhou had been thoroughly disgusted. He once tried to clarify things subtly during an interview, but was immediately attacked by Yuan Cheng’s fans, called a “white-eyed wolf” and ungrateful.

Nowadays, it was normal for Yuan Cheng’s fans to pick fights with Yuan Xingzhou; it had even happened during his last livestream.

Yuan Xingzhou didn’t have much of a solution for it.

“If you ask me, letting him bind himself to you like this is worse than just having a clean, public fight,” Huo Yangqing said, leaning back and playing the strategist. “Our industry’s bickering is too boring—hiding behind people and being subtle. You should do something fierce. Step onto the battlefield yourself; follow the example of Western divas.”

Yuan Xingzhou did want to have a satisfying, personal fight, but it was just a thought. He lacked the courage to even oppose Li Yu. He would regret a single rebuttal for half a day; where would he get the courage to start a public feud?

Even now, Yuan Xingzhou deeply regretted the sentence he used to retort Li Yu. During this time, Li Yu hadn’t told him about any new scripts. The male lead role they were supposedly discussing had no follow-up.

Having no news made Yuan Xingzhou inevitably panic.

While he was worrying, a week later, his scenes wrapped up, and Li Yu called.

Yuan Xingzhou was driving home with his wrap-up bouquet and red envelope. He took a deep breath before answering, telling himself he must have a better attitude.

But Li Yu was talking about Ye Huai.

“Ye Huai actually signed a fast-moving consumer goods endorsement these past few days. The materials are already filmed,” Li Yu sighed. “You really can’t compare people. Others work hard for half a lifetime and still can’t match someone who relies on his face.”

Speaking of which, after Ye Huai debuted, he only coasted in the group for two years. For the past few years, he never showed his face abroad, which was practically retiring from the circle. Who would have thought that as soon as he returned, businesses would be chasing him with money? In comparison, Yuan Xingzhou and he were two extremes: the former couldn’t get famous no matter how hard he worked in the group, while the latter had people bowing to him while doing nothing.

Yuan Xingzhou was long used to it, saying honestly: “Actually, when I look at him, I also feel his aura is different from others. He comes with his own spotlight.”

“That’s true. He was born into a jewelry dynasty; he’s seen so many famous people since birth.” Li Yu sighed. “So when he said he didn’t agree to you and Huo Yangqing doing a scandal CP, I didn’t even know what to say…”

The “Qing-Zhou CP” had popped up that one day and then disappeared. Yuan Xingzhou thought the matter was cancelled and said quickly: “If we don’t do it, we don’t do it. I don’t like being paired with Huo Yangqing anyway.”

“Do you think you have a choice in this?” Li Yu asked. “Right now, who besides Huo Yangqing dares to help you break the current CP? The big shots in the circle don’t deign to hype with us, and the small fries don’t want to court trouble. He throws a tantrum, and you don’t even have a clue?”

Yuan Xingzhou froze, rendered speechless by the question.

“Anyway, for the next few days, make sure to maintain interaction with Huo Yangqing. I’ll remind you when you need to repost Weibo,” Li Yu said, clearly irritated. “And about that variety show. Think about how to show ‘friction’ with Ye Huai during the program.”

“Friction?” Yuan Xingzhou suppressed his emotions and asked, “Are we supposed to fight? I thought the show was for showing off affection.”

“The show cares about the heat of the Huai-Zhou CP. As for how to perform, that’s up to you,” Li Yu said. “It’s best not to fight. Subtly show that there are conflicts between you two. For example, his personality is too dominant and unforgiving, and you feel pressured… or say you’re too nagging and he doesn’t like it… in short, master a point that seems like the truth, but is hard for him to snap at.”

Li Yu continued: “This is a great opportunity to let everyone realize your relationship has problems.”

“Shouldn’t I clear it with Ye Huai first?” Yuan Xingzhou asked. “Should I tell him?”

“Clear it?” Li Yu said crossly. “The audience isn’t blind. Can acting be the same as a natural reaction?”

“I believe as long as you think seriously about it, you can definitely do it well.” Li Yu paused, then added, “That wasn’t an insult.”

Yuan Xingzhou had nothing left to say. Li Yu disliked his weakness, yet was accustomed to pressuring him and seeing him follow orders.

Yuan Xingzhou hung up and drove home. He sat in his car for a while before taking his things upstairs.

Ye Huai was lying on the sofa playing games. He let out a “Huh?” when he saw him return.

“Wrapped?” Ye Huai was clearly in a good mood, turning his head to ask, “Is the ‘climax’ (gaochao) scene finished?”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

Ever since the day he was laughed at, Ye Huai had started a childish campaign of revenge. Not a single phone call went by without the word “climax.” Yuan Xingzhou had originally been open about it, but after being asked a few times, he started feeling embarrassed instead.

However, once Yuan Xingzhou showed embarrassment, Ye Huai would intensify his pursuit.

“…It was cut.” Yuan Xingzhou changed his shoes, saying expressionlessly, “I don’t have a climax anymore.”

Ye Huai: “…”

Yuan Xingzhou, having lost his “climax,” was in a bad mood. Ye Huai noticed and tilted his head to watch him.

Yuan Xingzhou took the flowers to the left; Ye Huai’s head turned to the left. Yuan Xingzhou walked to the right; Ye Huai followed him to the right.

Yuan Xingzhou was stifling his anger. He wanted to explode but had nowhere to vent. He walked back and forth, intending to throw the bouquet into the trash to vent his frustration, but at the last moment, his heart softened, and he placed it on the dining table.

Ye Huai: “…”

“What’s wrong with you?” Ye Huai asked. “Why do you look like a ghost?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” Yuan Xingzhou knew he hadn’t controlled his expression well and instinctively wanted to deny it. But then he thought it wasn’t necessary. He had endured enough outside; at home, he might as well look like a ghost.

“Just a small thing…” Yuan Xingzhou changed his words and lowered his head. “It’s nothing. I’ll be fine in a bit.”

He put the flowers on the table and began removing the packaging layer by layer, wanting to trim the stems, only to find the scissors were missing. The quality of the flowers from the production crew wasn’t great; there was a slight smell of decay at the base of the stems. Nothing was going right for Yuan Xingzhou, so he started rummaging through everything, determined to find those scissors.

“Go take a shower.” Ye Huai was unusually gentle for once, reminding him, “You look like a ghost right now. Stop pacing.”

Distraught, Yuan Xingzhou stood there, struggling with himself.

“Hurry up…” Ye Huai acted as if it were settled and raised his phone. “Wash up and come out to wait. I’ll order some fried chicken, and I want some chips, cola, salted peanuts… do you drink Wangzai milk?”

“…I don’t.” Yuan Xingzhou didn’t know why he was suddenly ordering takeout, so he could only say: “I don’t drink carbonated drinks either.”

“Wasn’t the climax scene cut?” Ye Huai asked. “What’s the use of keeping those abs now? At most, you can show them off at home, and I don’t even care for them.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

“Hurry, hurry,” Ye Huai finished the order and urged. “Your bad mood is purely from holding it in.”

He had filmed a night shift the day before yesterday and worked non-stop yesterday; he had slept less than three hours in the last two days. He really did need a good wash. Furthermore, Ye Huai rarely took the initiative to arrange things, and he didn’t want to spoil the mood.

“I’ll clean up when I come out.” Yuan Xingzhou nodded, hung his head, and entered the bathroom. He stripped, turned the faucet to the max, and stepped into the wall of water.

Half an hour later, Yuan Xingzhou emerged from the shower wrapped in a bathrobe, feeling much more relaxed.

The living room was a mess. It looked like Ye Huai was throwing a party: two packs of beer, two bags of fried chicken, a bowl of hot and sour noodles, several bags of chips and rice crusts, konjac snacks, salted peanuts… and two large bottles of cola sat on the coffee table.

The house was surrounded by junk food.

The TV was connected to the game console, and the little character inside was busy climbing a mountain.

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

“I haven’t indulged like this in half a year.” Yuan Xingzhou came over and sat down helplessly. Looking at the table full of snacks, he sighed: “The last time I indulged was eating a ‘dirty-dirty’ bun.”

“Told you, you’re just holding it in.” Ye Huai opened a bag of chips and ate them with a crunch-crunch while playing his game with his feet up.

Yuan Xingzhou hesitated, then opened a bag himself and sat beside him to watch him play.

For a while, the only sound in the room was the crunch-crunch of eating, the two of them like a pair of little mice.

Yuan Xingzhou unconsciously relaxed. He knew why he was frustrated—he was too out of sync with Li Yu. Previously it was just a personality clash, but now that things had happened, he realized the other’s way of doing things and values weren’t consistent with his own. But he couldn’t think of a solution yet. His contract with the company still had many years to go, and among the managers at Huayu, Li Yu was the best at choosing scripts.

To allow a “transitioning idol” like Yuan Xingzhou to participate in hit dramas every time, with characters that sparked discussion and a performance difficulty right within his range… Li Yu’s talent in this regard was unquestionable.

Yuan Xingzhou once thought that if he had the chance to choose again, he would probably still choose Li Yu.

He wanted to be famous far too much.

And now he had the heat; what he lacked was a representative work. If Li Yu could choose a good lead role for him, it would surely stabilize his position…

This was his third year of transition—no, almost the fourth. A talent show singer who went through being “frozen,” joined a boy band, saw the group disband, and then transitioned into an actor… to hold his ground and maintain exposure within four years, he was actually doing okay.

As for the cold words… forget it, just treat them as wind passing by.

Yuan Xingzhou figured it out for himself and felt a weight lift from his chest. He looked at the TV, then at Ye Huai’s profile, and a wave of gratitude rose in his heart.

“Thank you, Ye… Ye…” Yuan Xingzhou paused, realizing he hadn’t actually called Ye Huai by name these past few days. They were always alone together; they knew who they were talking to without using a name.

Calling him by name was too formal. Brother Ye? Brother Huai?

“What are you calling ‘Grandpa’ for?” Ye Huai said instead. “The press conference is the day after tomorrow. You shouldn’t be like this; it’ll make people think we’re in a ‘grandpa-grandson’ romance.”