The Main Couple Fights Over Me (Entertainment Industry) - Chapter 2

That was putting it mildly. The original owner of this body would use a stunt double whenever possible, showing not a shred of professionalism when it came to action scenes.

“Teacher Yan, you’re too kind. People can change, and I just want to make up for my past mistakes. You’re an industry benchmark, and I have so much to learn from you.”

Song Xun flashed an ingratiating smile. When it came to acting, he was dead serious. This scene was one he absolutely had to nail!

Yan Jiayu listened as Song Xun addressed him as “Teacher Yan” over and over, a far cry from the overly familiar “Brother Jiayu” he used to use. It was novel.

“You’re not planning some trick again, are you? Let me make this clear: either finish this drama properly, or no matter how much your agency pushes you, I’ll make sure you’re out.”

The words were harsh, but Song Xun didn’t bat an eye. “Don’t worry, I’ve turned over a new leaf. I won’t have any inappropriate thoughts about you anymore, let alone play any tricks. I really just want to rehearse.”

Song Xun’s expression was flawless, even raising four fingers in a solemn pledge.

If it was just rehearsing, Yan Jiayu couldn’t really refuse. So, he nodded in agreement.

Song Xun had learned from action choreographers in previous shoots—every move had to be clean and precise, without any hesitation, or it would look messy and lack detail on screen.

Yan Jiayu was equally serious. The two moved in sync, their coordination seamless. Only Song Xun knew this was their first time working together, yet the chemistry felt uncanny.

Yan Jiayu was surprised too.

That afternoon, he’d heard people on set praising Song Xun, saying it was like he’d suddenly woken up. His acting had improved leaps and bounds, from his delivery to his expressions, everything was different.

Yan Jiayu had brushed it off. Song Xun’s acting had been rock-bottom before; even a tiny improvement would seem like a miracle to others.

But seeing him tonight… there really was a difference.

Thanks to their rehearsal, the night scene went smoothly.

The male lead and second male lead had been through life-and-death situations together for years, developing an extraordinary tacit understanding. Without a single word, a simple glance was enough to know what the other was thinking.

Song Xun, accustomed to wire work, executed mid-air moves with ease, his expression never faltering even during high kicks. Yan Jiayu, a veteran of film sets, was equally adept at action scenes.

When the director called “Cut,” Yan Jiayu had to admit setting aside his bias against Song Xun—this was the smoothest, most comfortable action scene he’d ever filmed with a co-star since his debut.

“Great work, everyone.”

Song Xun politely bid farewell to the crew, waiting for his agency’s van to pick him up. In a corner, he spotted a slender figure crouched down—it was Mu Heng.

He walked over and asked, “Why aren’t you heading back to rest?”

Mu Heng looked up. It was Song Xun again.

Seeing Mu Heng curled up into a small, pitiful ball, Song Xun remembered that Mu Heng was signed to a nearly bankrupt small agency, so poor that artists had to hail their own cabs for transportation. He crouched down to meet Mu Heng’s eye level. “Come with me. I’ll have my agency’s driver drop you off.”

“No need.”

Another cold, dismissive refusal.

The person’s eyes were filled with wariness, watching the man before him with caution.

Even Song Xun, dense as he was, had no choice but to give up.

By the time he got home, it was already two in the morning.

Song Xun returned to the apartment rented for him by the company. It wasn’t particularly large, but it was more than enough for him to live alone.

The place he used to live in was about the same size, carefully chosen by himself just to be closer to the city center for an easier commute.

Song Xun collapsed onto the sofa, his eyes too heavy to keep open. Drowsy and on the verge of sleep, he was suddenly jolted awake by a phone call.

Groggily, he picked up the phone and tapped to answer without thinking.

“Song Xun, why haven’t you sent the household allowance for this month yet?!”

“Mhm, put it in the microwave, add some cement.”

The male voice on the other end of the line paused, then erupted into a torrent of crude insults.

But before he could hear more than a few curses, Song Xun was already too exhausted to stay awake. He drifted off to sleep in no time, leaving the person on the other end of the line ranting and raving.

The man on the other end, hearing no response, cursed once more before hanging up. A fellow gambler nearby, seeing his foul mood, teased him.

“What’s wrong? Couldn’t squeeze money out of that cheap son of yours?”

Liu Fumin took a deep drag of his cigarette. He had already played over a dozen rounds of mahjong that night without winning a single game.

A dim, flickering light cast shaky shadows across the small, smoke-filled mahjong parlor. Several burly men sat shirtless, beads of sweat trickling down their flabby flesh. They paid it no mind, casually wiping it away with their hands.

The windows were tightly shut, filling the room with a pungent, acrid smell. But the men were all heavy smokers, long accustomed to the odor.

“Don’t even mention it. That little brat didn’t say a word—who knows what he’s up to. Hmph, daring to play dead on me. If he doesn’t give me money soon, I’ll go find him myself.”

“Hahaha, Brother Liu, that son of yours is a big star. How could he possibly be short on cash? Just a little loosening of his fingers, and plenty would trickle down.”

The other gamblers chimed in, agreeing that he was probably pretending to be poor to avoid supporting his old man.

Liu Fumin snorted coldly. Song Xun was the baggage his later wife had brought along, and he had spent a fair amount of money raising him. The kid ought to be filial and take good care of him now.

Just as he was about to pull another cigarette from his pocket, he heard the men across from him exclaim in unison.

“Hey, hey, hey! I won again! Pay up, pay up!”

“Third Brother Liu, you’re feeding all three of us! Hahaha, what incredible luck!”

“Tsk, how come you guys keep winning? You’re not teaming up to cheat, are you?!”

Liu Fumin’s eyes widened fiercely, his face full of thuggish menace. The others laughed at him for being a sore loser.

With another cold snort, he reluctantly reached into the cabinet for money, only to find he had very little left. He said to them, “I’ll owe you for now. I’ll pay you back once I get the money from that cheap son of mine.”

Early the next morning, Song Xun was once again awakened by the sound of his phone. Opening his eyes, he realized he had slept on the sofa all night. He checked his phone—it was only a little past six. Just as he was about to go back to sleep, the phone rang again.

“Song Xun! Are you up yet? Get ready and come over right now.”

Song Xun was dazed for a moment before remembering that Sister Zhang had mentioned yesterday that there was an early morning meeting at the company.

After showering, he put on a simple, casual white T-shirt and jeans, looking quite fresh—if you ignored the dark circles under his eyes.

As soon as he entered the company, Song Xun ran into Xin He, another artist managed by Sister Zhang.

Xin He and Song Xun were from the same batch of artists, and their styles even overlapped. If Song Xun had delicate, feminine features that were refined without being overly soft, Xin He looked more youthful—handsome with a sunny, boy-next-door charm.

The two didn’t get along well. Although Sister Zhang often grumbled about Song Xun in front of him, she clearly favored him, always thinking of him first when good opportunities came along, which made Xin He deeply resentful.

“Oh, Brother Song coming to the company so early—what a rare sight. But then again, your resources aren’t what they used to be. If you don’t show up early to scrounge around, you might not even be able to afford a meal, right?”

Song Xun remembered this person vividly. The novel was filled with the entertainment industry’s unspoken rules, and this guy had hooked up with a wealthy backer, landed a good script, and skyrocketed to become a popular young star.

Xin He looked at him disdainfully. Hmph, so what if Sister Zhang dotes on him? He’s always shamelessly clinging to Yan Jiayu, and it doesn’t seem like the guy gives him much attention.

Even though Song Xun’s popularity still far exceeded his own, it was mostly “black fame” driven by online hate. Xin He, on the other hand, had solid resources backing him. Sooner or later, he’d surpass Song Xun.

“It’s not too bad. Maybe I don’t eat much—just breathing in the northwest wind fills me up. But Xin He, you should pay more attention to your figure management. Eat less, or you might not look so good on camera.”

With that, Song Xun ignored Xin He’s darkening expression, turned, and hurried to press the elevator button. Seeing Xin He momentarily stunned and about to rush in, Song Xun frantically pressed the close button twice, desperate to keep him out.

“Just wait slowly for the next one.”

He even stuck out his tongue at Xin He.

The building had eighty floors, and their company was on the sixtieth. The other floors housed various offices, and it was peak commuting hours, with employees crowding the elevators. With all the back-and-forth, Xin He wouldn’t make it up for at least another ten minutes or so.

Ding.

Song Xun stepped out of the elevator and headed straight for Sister Zhang’s office.

Knock knock.

“Come in.”

Song Xun pushed the door open, and Sister Zhang immediately handed him a contract.

He flipped through it. It was clearly a competitive variety show focused on acting.

“Sister Zhang, aren’t I still filming a drama right now? Wouldn’t it be bad to take on a variety show at the same time?”

Song Xun had juggled filming and variety shows before, but thankfully his scenes weren’t too heavy. Otherwise, he’d have been slammed for being unprofessional and just chasing quick money.

Sister Zhang pointed at the coffee on the tea table. Song Xun waved his hand. “Thanks, but I don’t like coffee.”

She raised an eyebrow, somewhat exasperated. “I meant hand me my coffee.”

Only then did Song Xun understand. “Oh, oh,” he said, picking up the cup and passing it to her. Sister Zhang took a sip and let out a long sigh.

She’d slept less than two hours since last night. As a working stiff, she relied on iced Americanos to keep going. Picking up the contract from the desk, she patiently began explaining the benefits of joining this variety show to Song Xun.

“The mentors on this variety show all bring their own fanbase; several are big-name directors and veteran actors in the industry. The hype is guaranteed. What’s more, Yan Jiayu will also be there. If you join, you can build a solid persona and might even gain a wave of fans. It’s better than being dragged through the mud online at the slightest rumor like you are now.”

Upon hearing that Yan Jiayu would be there, Song Xun thought to himself, “If he’s going, then I definitely shouldn’t.”

Just yesterday, he had sworn loyalty in front of Yan Jiayu, promising not to bother him anymore. Now, showing up again would make anyone think he was chasing after him.

“Sister Zhang, are there any other variety shows? If not, I’ll just focus on improving my acting skills recently. I won’t embarrass you.”

Sister Zhang’s left cheek twitched, her expression clearly saying, “Are you serious?”

“Come on, your acting is so stiff you can’t even play a fool convincingly. How are you going to improve? Let it go. Don’t force yourself into a field that’s not your strength.”

Sister Zhang paused, then eyed Song Xun suspiciously. “Wait, you’re usually obsessed with chasing after Yan Jiayu. Now that he’s on this show, you suddenly don’t want to go?”

Song Xun sat up straight. “That’s in the past. I don’t like Yan Jiayu anymore.”

Sister Zhang rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

He had begged the company to get him a role in “Moonlit Dreams” just to be near Yan Jiayu. And now he had the nerve to say he didn’t like him anymore?

Song Xun tapped his fingers together, lowering his head helplessly but still unwilling to give up. “Sis, is there really no other option?”

“There is.”

Song Xun looked up, hope in his eyes.

“Either join the variety show, or go home and farm sweet potatoes.”

“Haha, I guess I’ll go with the variety show then.”

He was nothing if not adaptable.

Sister Zhang was about to remind him of a few things when Song Xun’s phone suddenly rang.

Song Xun glanced at the caller ID—it read “Old Geezer.” He answered, and the voice on the other end was slurred and incoherent, as if the person had been drinking heavily.

“Hey! Brat, send me money now, you hear me?”

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