The feeling became even more pronounced in the episode where Tan Xin dies.
Qin Yuyu forced Tan Xin to choose between Kong Mingxiu and himself. Tan Xin chose to die himself. He hadn’t planned for Kong Mingxiu to know, but Kong Mingxiu discovered clues and returned in time to witness his death firsthand.
This deepened Kong Mingxiu’s hatred for Qin Yuyu. Later, despite the female lead’s protests, he brought Qin Yuyu down to avenge Tan Xin.
In the book, this segment is heart-wrenching for all three: the female lead resents Kong Mingxiu for not sparing Qin Yuyu, Kong Mingxiu mourns Tan Xin’s death while feeling the female lead’s concern, and Qin Yuyu suffers in prison, unable to bear seeing her tear-stained eyes.
However, in the drama adaptation, no matter how well Zhou Bin or Qin Zizhen acted, they couldn’t match Song Ye. In this love triangle, Song Ye completely overshadowed the others.
On top of that, the character Tan Xin, played by Pei Qingjian, had already attracted high attention from the livestream due to his interactions with Song Ye. As the plot progressed, his fresh, natural acting and good looks won him even more fans.
As a result, the intended three-way tension of the story never materialized. The audience almost entirely sided with Tan Xin and Kong Mingxiu, not only understanding Kong Mingxiu’s actions but also feeling the female lead was unreasonable.
【Isn’t it only fair to avenge a murder? Why shouldn’t Kong Mingxiu avenge Tan Xin?】
【Yes, Qin Yuyu helped the female lead many times. It’s normal she doesn’t want him to die, but Qin Yuyu tried to kill Kong Mingxiu multiple times and even killed Tan Xin. Isn’t it normal that Kong Mingxiu wants revenge?】
【Female lead fans still dare to say Kong Mingxiu cares about Tan Xin? Then let her be with Qin Yuyu. It’s not like Kong Mingxiu could have been with Tan Xin otherwise; Qin Yuyu killed him.】
【I always said the male and female leads are hard to ship. She claims to love the male lead but constantly frets over the second male lead, giving less than Tan Xin did. Now she’s mad at the male lead for avenging Tan Xin—did she ever care about his feelings?】
【Honestly, she might as well just stay with Qin Yuyu. Let Kong Mingxiu focus on his career.】
The arguments online were fierce, but Pei Qingjian’s fanbase grew even faster.
Yang Hao watched Pei Qingjian’s rising popularity and the CP fan discussions skyrocketing overnight, letting out a helpless sigh. She had predicted this during filming, but the outcome exceeded her expectations.
It was unclear whether Pei Qingjian’s success was due to riding Song Ye’s coattails or if people genuinely liked him, but the biggest beneficiary of the show had clearly become someone who wasn’t even supposed to be a focus.
Yang Hao tried to prevent a surge, but constrained by Lan Xingchen’s presence, she couldn’t intervene directly or cut Pei Qingjian’s screen time. She could only plant negative stories through marketing accounts.
She had them highlight his early roles, claiming his features were awkward and acting terrible. Instead, netizens interpreted it as proof he was hardworking, improving, and taking classes during the eight-month hiatus. The entertainment world needed people who genuinely worked hard!
Yang Hao, frustrated, tried again, having the accounts report that Pei Qingjian only interacted closely with Song Ye on set and hardly engaged with others. Overnight, the CP fans went wild, declaring he was truly in character, with eyes and heart focused on just one person—mirroring Tan Xin.
Fans even criticized the crew, asking if others ignored Pei Qingjian because he wasn’t famous and only Song Ye treated him kindly. This made them feel protective and even fonder of Pei Qingjian.
Yang Hao: …
She had carefully crafted this drama, even clashing with Song Ye over separation scenes, yet somehow, she ended up making Pei Qingjian’s success easier—a literal “wedding dress” for him. It was maddening.
Zhou Pengyue laughed heartily. “She deserved that.”
“But didn’t she want Zhou Bin and Qin Zizhen’s romantic plot to overshadow Song Ye and Qin Zizhen?”
“Look, she got what she wanted. Fans are now saying the female lead should stay with Qin Yuyu and stop holding Kong Mingxiu back. Kong Mingxiu deserves better, haha.”
Pei Qingjian also found it amusing. “She won’t pull any more tricks, right?”
“What’s there to fear?” Zhou Pengyue said calmly. “If she buys marketing accounts, I buy trending searches. If she hires shills, I hire my own. In this industry, it’s not fear of criticism but fear of people not knowing you don’t care.”
He wasn’t bluffing. Previously, when Yang Hao had marketing accounts criticize Pei Qingjian’s early work, Zhou Pengyue had countered with shills praising his hard work and improvement. Later, when accounts suggested he only socialized with the top star, Zhou Pengyue spun it positively, making fans think he was simply focused and in character, questioning whether others ignored him because he wasn’t popular.
In short, Pei Qingjian might have started barefoot, but he didn’t have to fear those wearing shoes.
Well, now he wasn’t exactly barefoot anymore—he had shoes.
Zhou Pengyue watched Pei Qingjian’s fan count soar and couldn’t stop grinning. Finally, he could produce a star of his own!
Compared to Zhou Pengyue and Pei Qingjian’s excitement, Lan Xingchen was decidedly unhappy.
Although he didn’t care much about the entertainment industry and rarely checked trending topics, once Pei Qingjian’s drama aired, he had to pay attention. And once he did, problems emerged.
“What’s wrong with these people?!” Lan Xingchen pointed at Pei Qingjian and Song Ye’s CP discussion on his phone. “They say you two are sweet! Sweet?! What do you have to do with sweet?”
“More like mutual effort, double arrows!”
“The funniest is that they’re convinced you’re dating!”
Lan Xingchen was so frustrated he almost crushed his phone. “Dating? You don’t even negotiate contracts with him!”
Pei Qingjian quickly fanned him, calming him down. “Fans are just speculating. It’s all false.”
“I don’t buy it at all. Their analysis almost reads like an essay. They even calculated your last Weibo post, added, subtracted, multiplied, divided… and figured it must be Song Ye’s birthday. Do you know when Song Ye’s birthday is?”
Pei Qingjian nodded.
Lan Xingchen: !!!
“You actually know?”
Pei Qingjian, exasperated, said, “I know yours too. Honestly, I remember yours better than his.”
Lan Xingchen nodded. That was more like it.
Wait—what does “more like it” mean? “Who is he to be compared with me?!”
Pei Qingjian: …
He nearly laughed aloud.
“Exactly. How could he compare to you? Your place in my heart is far higher than his.”
Lan Xingchen was satisfied, but not long after, he frowned again. “This trending topic… it’s going to stay here forever, isn’t it?”
“It’ll settle down once the drama finishes airing,” Pei Qingjian said with a smile. “Actually, I’m the one taking advantage here.”
Lan Xingchen: ???
“You got your subject, verb, and object all mixed up!”
Pei Qingjian leaned against him and explained, “Really, if he weren’t so popular, I wouldn’t have been able to ride his hype and get famous so quickly. So in truth, I’m the one benefiting from him.”
Though he said this, Lan Xingchen didn’t like hearing it.
“That may be, but it’s also your good image and acting skills. Otherwise, if it were your drama’s second male lead here, no one would be shipping them for sure.”
Pei Qingjian laughed heartily; indeed, that would have been catastrophic for Song Ye’s fans.
“Anyway, it’ll calm down soon,” Pei Qingjian reassured him. “Once this drama ends and others air, our CP fans will naturally quiet down.”
“Good,” Lan Xingchen gritted his teeth.
However, before the drama finished airing, Director Jiang’s movie was scheduled to start filming in early April.
Lan Xingchen, still fuming over the overnight CP fans, now turned his frustration toward Director Jiang.
“That’s too soon.”
“Not really. They’d already mentioned April or May,” Pei Qingjian said. “I’ve had a long break anyway.”
Lan Xingchen calculated the time and realized it was true—Pei Qingjian had wrapped filming in winter, and now it was early April, springtime.
Happy days were short; before he knew it, Pei Qingjian would be working again.
“This one’s still in the city?” Lan Xingchen asked.
Pei Qingjian shook his head but quickly added, “Not far—just in a neighboring town in the next city over.”
Lan Xingchen finally relaxed. That was close enough; he could still visit weekly.
“I’ll come check on your set then.”
“Mm,” Pei Qingjian nodded.
However, this film’s shoot would wrap only by the end of June, meaning their contract would expire then. Pei Qingjian looked at Lan Xingchen’s gentle expression and thought he hadn’t realized this yet. Better not tell him now.
After all, farewells were never pleasant.
Pei Qingjian felt a twinge of sadness, hugging Lan Xingchen. He wondered whether, once he left, Lan Xingchen would miss him in the house alone. Would he still come to see him while he was filming?
Friends and canaries were different, after all. Once their contract ended, they’d just be friends—how would that change things?
“Different from now, right? What would that even be like?”
“What’s wrong?” Lan Xingchen held him close, speaking softly.
Pei Qingjian shook his head. “Nothing… just wanted to hug you.”
Lan Xingchen chuckled and teased, “Not wanting to hug Song Ye?”
Pei Qingjian couldn’t help laughing at his tone. He hugged Lan Xingchen tightly. “No, just want to hug you, okay?”
“That’s more like it,” Lan Xingchen said, tightening his own arms around him.
On April 9th, Pei Qingjian departed for the filming location of his new movie.
Zhou Pengyue picked him up again, along with a cheerful-looking young man.
“This is Xiao Wang, your assistant from now on,” Zhou Pengyue said with a smile.
Pei Qingjian was surprised. “I have an assistant?”
Zhou Pengyue laughed even more. “Of course. You’re popular now, naturally you need one. Use him for now; if you need more help, I’ll add someone.”
“Okay,” Pei Qingjian said. That should be enough; after all, he’d managed fine without one before.
The drive from X City to the filming location in G City wasn’t far, so Zhou Pengyue had the driver take them directly. Upon arrival, they handled check-in smoothly.
That evening, Director Jiang organized a script reading, where Pei Qingjian finally met the other actors.
One was Xu Cheng, cast when the script was still in its early stages, and the other was Xiao Jin, added after Pei Qingjian passed the audition. Both were formally trained actors. Although Xiao Jin had little experience, he had appeared in one film. As a non-professional stepping into their midst, Pei Qingjian felt a little intimidated.
But he didn’t feel that way for long. Once he sat down, Xiao Jin excitedly approached him.
“Pei Qingjian, can you sign an autograph for me?” he asked. “My little sister really likes you. She wouldn’t believe I was filming with you until I show her. After the reading, can you sign and take a photo with me?”
It was the first time Pei Qingjian had encountered such enthusiasm. He finally felt the sense of being genuinely popular.
“Sure,” he said with a smile.
Hearing this, Xu Cheng also spoke up. “Then sign one for me too. My daughter really likes you.”
Pei Qingjian: …
He looked at the man who would play his on-screen father and nodded obediently. “Sure.”
The group chatted happily until Director Jiang finally arrived.
Pei Qingjian put away his smile and prepared himself seriously.
He remembered Ning Rong saying Director Jiang was particularly harsh on set, so he braced for being scolded. To his surprise, Jiang didn’t scold anyone during the script reading.
Was it only during filming that he scolded?
The next day, on the first day of filming, Pei Qingjian’s thought was confirmed.
In their first scene opposite Xiao Jin, Director Jiang berated them thoroughly, treating both equally, scolding one after the other. By the end, Pei Qingjian and Xiao Jin hung their heads like two students who had misbehaved.
Once he had scolded enough, Jiang moved on to explaining the scene.
Filmmaking and television production were completely different. A movie was a two-hour work of art, requiring every second to convey the story.
Pei Qingjian listened attentively, realizing for the first time just how many nuances there were in acting.
After the lesson, Director Jiang sent him to practice with Xiao Jin, who had also just finished the session.
Pei Qingjian looked at Xiao Jin. Although he was professionally trained and had prior film experience, his current level seemed about the same as Pei Qingjian’s, so he didn’t feel embarrassed.
Xiao Jin thought the same way. He considered that Pei Qingjian was currently very popular and had more acting experience, yet they were being scolded together—so he had nothing to be ashamed of either.
The two found a balance in each other’s presence, taking their scripts aside to study together.
Director Jiang watched them, somewhat pleased.
He had worried that Pei Qingjian’s sudden fame might change him from the confident person he had been during auditions, but he hadn’t changed at all.
That was a relief.
Every year, there were actors who exploded in popularity, but few truly lasted; many would peak briefly, only to fade two or three years later when their work couldn’t keep up.
Jiang saw the talent in Pei Qingjian and didn’t want it diminished by sudden fame, nor did he want Pei Qingjian’s acting career to be derailed by his mindset after becoming popular.
Of course, the harsh scolding was partly Jiang’s fault—but as a director, how could he not get frustrated when the actors in front of the camera couldn’t achieve what he envisioned? He was a little irritable, yes, but it was inevitable.
He criticized himself seriously, only to repeat the same behavior the next time.
Director Jiang (author’s note): “Yes, yes, I’m reflecting, I’m reflecting.”
Qingjian: “Countdown to contract expiration.”