The drama Pei Qingjian was about to film was a historical idol drama titled Drunken River Moon (Zui Jiang Yue), named after the traditional ci poetic form and also after the final poem written by the male lead.
Naturally, the series leaned more heavily toward the male lead.
And the one playing him was indeed the biggest name in the cast—a top-tier rising star, Song Ye.
The second male lead was Zhou Bin, an artist from the same company. His popularity had been climbing in recent years, and he was steadily pushing toward the A-list, with a strong fanbase already.
“Normally, in a situation like this, Zhou Bin wouldn’t easily take a role alongside someone close to his age,” Zhou Pengyue explained. “But since this project is backed by their own company, he doesn’t really have a choice. The female lead, though, isn’t from their company—it’s the popular young actress Qin Zizhen.”
Pei Qingjian nodded. “I know.”
He had seen related posts online recently. “I’ve already watched their previous works—gotten familiar with their acting styles. At least I have a general sense now.”
Zhou Pengyue grew curious. “Oh? Then tell me—what kind of styles do they have?”
“Song Ye is very steady. He takes every project seriously and performs well—his skill is the most consistent and solid. Zhou Bin’s different—he relies a lot on the character setup. If the role is well-written, he comes off likable. If not, he can be pretty off-putting. And for more complex roles, he sometimes can’t quite carry them.”
And honestly, Pei Qingjian thought Zhou Bin was the type of actor who played it smart—if it was a big production with a famous director and cast, he’d put in real effort.
But if it wasn’t a major project, even as the lead, he might not give it his all.
“As for Qin Zizhen… kind of similar to Zhou Bin. She can act, but not by much—not enough to save a weak character.”
Zhou Pengyue: …
“You really dare to say that.”
Pei Qingjian blinked. “You’re the one who asked.”
“Don’t worry—I’d only say this in front of you. I wouldn’t talk like this if I actually met them.”
He wasn’t stupid.
“Good.”
“Oh, right—” Zhou Pengyue lowered his voice, “when you’re there, be careful. Don’t bring up Song Ye in front of Zhou Bin, and don’t mention Zhou Bin in front of Song Ye. Because of this drama, things between them are a bit… delicate. Best if we stay out of it.”
Pei Qingjian nodded. “Got it.”
“Alright then, pack up. I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”
“Mm.”
After hanging up, Pei Qingjian pulled out his suitcase and started packing.
By the time Lin Xingchen got home, he was basically done.
“What’s all this?” Lin Xingchen asked, looking at the two suitcases by the wall.
“I’m going to film,” Pei Qingjian said. “I was just about to tell you tonight.”
Lin Xingchen: …Damn. He’d almost forgotten about that.
“How long will you be gone?”
“About three months.”
Lin Xingchen: !!!
“That long? By the time I see you again, it’ll practically be winter.”
“You can visit me on set,” Pei Qingjian said with a smile. “I’m just filming, not disappearing. If you want to see me, you can.”
That was true. Lin Xingchen nodded slightly. “Then when I’m less busy, I’ll come visit.”
“Mm.”
“Oh, right—this is for you.” Pei Qingjian picked up a stack of A4 papers he had prepared earlier and handed them over.
Lin Xingchen took the papers and realized it was a detailed guide to the restaurants around his company.
Some he had tried before, some he hadn’t.
“I won’t be able to cook for you over the next three months, so you have to watch your diet yourself. I’ve looked into it for you—these restaurants offer dine-in and delivery. I’ve tried some of the dishes for you. The guide lists pictures, ratings, recommended dishes, and pros and cons. You can use it to choose your lunch each day.”
Lin Xingchen stared at the thick stack of A4 sheets for a long moment.
He flipped through them slowly—each page covered a single restaurant, with the recommended dishes clearly listed, along with their flavors, strengths, and weaknesses.
This was completely unexpected.
Pei Qingjian had left him this thoughtful gift before leaving.
Simple, unpretentious, yet sincere and clumsy.
Full of care and attentiveness.
Lin Xingchen felt like he should say something, but didn’t know what to say.
“When did you do this?” he finally asked.
“This month,” Pei Qingjian replied. “Sometimes when I leave your office, I’d stop by nearby restaurants.”
Lin Xingchen nodded. “Thank you. I’ll use the guide to eat well, don’t worry.”
“Then send me what you order each day before you eat.” Pei Qingjian immediately climbed up the elevator of concern.
Lin Xingchen didn’t find the request inappropriate and answered gently, “Okay.”
Pei Qingjian was overjoyed.
Ever since receiving Zhou Pengyue’s call, he had been worried about Lin Xingchen’s meals, afraid his carefully nurtured stomach might flare up after he left.
Although he had prepared the Food Recommendation Guide for this day, he still didn’t know how or what Lin Xingchen would eat.
The unknown always brought worry—and Pei Qingjian was no exception.
Fortunately, Lin Xingchen agreed, and that worry melted away.
Pei Qingjian looked at him, smiling with genuine joy.
The next day at noon, they shared their last lunch together before parting. Then Pei Qingjian got into Zhou Pengyue’s car, heading to J City.
The production team had arranged a hotel. Upon arrival, Zhou Pengyue and Pei Qingjian collected their room keys and entered their room.
Just as he put his things down, Pei Qingjian’s WeChat buzzed.
It was Lin Xingchen, sending a picture of that evening’s dinner.
The meal was light—no heavy oils, no strong spices, nothing cold.
Pei Qingjian sat on the bed and sent back a “👍” emoji.
Lin Xingchen: “Have you eaten yet?”
Pei Qingjian: “Not yet. Just put my luggage down. I’ll go eat with Zhou later.”
Lin Xingchen: “Then send me a picture before you eat too.”
Without hesitation, Pei Qingjian replied: “Sure.”
He asked again: “Which restaurant? How’s the taste?”
Lin Xingchen: “The first one in your guide. Not bad—pretty light and fresh.”
And so their back-and-forth began.
By the time Zhou Pengyue finished work and came to pick up Pei Qingjian, it was already 7:30 PM.
They found a nearby restaurant for dinner. Before eating, Pei Qingjian, as promised, took photos and sent them to Lin Xingchen.
He deliberately ordered several light dishes, so his photo would match Lin Xingchen’s style.
Sure enough, Lin Xingchen’s reaction was a little, “You’re doing the same thing?”
Lin Xingchen: “You’re eating way too plain.”
Pei Qingjian: “It’s the restaurant’s signature dishes!”
Lin Xingchen finally relaxed: “Okay, good. I thought you were avoiding anything spicy or heavy just to be safe.”
Lin Xingchen: “Eat more.”
Pei Qingjian, deliberately playing it safe: …
He sent a small nod emoji and started eating.
And surprisingly, the dishes, though light, were quite good.
Pei Qingjian ate a bowl of rice with his meal and returned to the hotel with Zhou Pengyue.
That night, he logged into his newly registered Weibo account and posted a photo of the moon, ready for this “college entrance exam” of his acting career.
The “exam” was scheduled for the next day.
It was Pei Qingjian’s first time at a drama’s opening ceremony. Feeling novel, he followed the others and picked up incense.
He looked at the nearby incense burner and offerings and quietly noted how superstitious the film industry could be.
But since everyone was praying together, he prayed sincerely for a good performance and success.
He placed the incense in the burner in order, bowing earnestly.
The crew’s photographers constantly snapped photos of the actors’ expressions. Naturally, most attention went to Song Ye, Zhou Bin, and Qin Zizhen. Pei Qingjian, as the fourth male lead, didn’t get much attention at first.
Only when reviewing the photos later did they notice two shots of Pei Qingjian that turned out beautifully.
One showed his profile, sunlight falling on his face as he smiled slightly, giving him an ethereal, handsome appearance.
The other captured him glancing back over his shoulder, expression lively and full of youthful energy.
The photographer checked the cast list—these were the shots of male lead four, Pei Qingjian.
Male lead four? Perfect. As long as it wasn’t male eighteen, the photos could be used.
He quickly edited them and sent them in a folder to the promotion team.
When the promotion team opened the folder, aside from Song Ye’s photos, the first images they saw were Pei Qingjian’s two shots.
A pure white background, a striking face, and undeniable youthful spirit.
Who was this? They had never seen him before.
Checking the cast list, they confirmed—male lead four was Pei Qingjian.
Of course, the team usually only cared about the main leads. For this drama, male lead two Zhou Bin was also on their radar—but everyone else wasn’t as familiar, even though internally at Xingyun, they knew clearly.
Compared to Song Ye, Xingyun had clearly been promoting Zhou Bin more over the past two years.
However, since this drama had Song Ye as the male lead, the promotion team first posted the group photo with Song Ye at the center.
Then they released behind-the-scenes clips of Song Ye, Zhou Bin, and Qin Zizhen.
Finally, came the behind-the-scenes clips of the other supporting actors.
Following Zhou Pengyue’s instructions, Pei Qingjian reposted the first group photo and the third post that included his name.
He skipped the second post, worried fans might accuse him of riding the hype.
Curious, he clicked on the second post to see the comments, and what he saw stunned him.
Instead of fan praise, there was criticism:
- “Why isn’t Song Ye in the center? Putting Zhou Bin there is unforgivable!”
- “Xingyun isn’t hiding it anymore? Placing Zhou Bin in the center—don’t they think we can’t see their ulterior motives?!”
- “Change the photo! The center must be Song Ye!!”
- “Giving you a chance to act in a historical romance and you pull this stunt? Do you think Sister Yezi is easy to fool?!”
- “Change the photo! Who wants that ugly Zhou Bin in the center?!”
- “Zhou Bin’s fans have been nurturing him since debut. Now he can’t even walk independently? Relying on Song Ge again? Have some shame!”
- “Enough fighting, the first row already has three pictures of your brother. Isn’t it normal for the second lead to be in the second row?!”
- “Meeting fiery fans is the worst luck ever!”
Clearly, “Sister Yezi” was Song Ye fans’ self-given nickname, and “fiery fans” was the derisive term for them.
Pei Qingjian silently watched, then noticed a notification from his backend—his follower count was skyrocketing.
Curious, he opened the backend to check reposts and comments, and saw familiar fan praise:
- “Ahhh, so cute and handsome! Totally my type!”
- “He looks so young. How old is he?”
- “Who is he playing? Tan Xin? So handsome!”
- “I knew it, only Song Ye’s dramas have so many handsome guys!”
- “Why doesn’t he post selfies? There are barely any photos on Weibo.”
- “Go go go! Don’t waste that face!!!”
- “Wow, fellow face-lovers! Same here!”
- “Face enthusiasts everywhere, never fail!”
Pei Qingjian laughed and ignored the fan wars between Song Ye’s and Zhou Bin’s fans, instead enjoying the rapid growth of his own followers.
He took a screenshot and sent it to Zhou Pengyue:
Pei Qingjian: “Good news, good news! My follower count is rising~~”
A strong start is half the battle. Pei Qingjian felt optimistic about his “college entrance exam” of acting and was very happy.