Very quickly, his wish came true.
That day, Pei Qingjian was filming with Song Ye. They had just wrapped a scene when he saw Zhou Pengyue walking toward him.
Before he could even feel confused, Zhou Pengyue had already pulled him aside.
“President Lin is here.”
Pei Qingjian blinked. “Now?”
“What else?” Zhou Pengyue handed his phone back to him. “He called you just now. It rang for a while, so I picked up for you. I hadn’t even had time to explain that you were filming and couldn’t take the call when he beat me to it and said, ‘Guess where I am.’”
Zhou Pengyue had nearly hung up on the spot. It was too awkward—seriously, way too awkward.
When he stayed silent, Lin Xingchen’s voice came through again, “Why aren’t you saying anything?”
Zhou Pengyue had no choice but to grit his teeth and respond, “Hello, I’m his manager. Qingjian is filming right now and can’t take calls.”
There had been a predictable silence on the other end.
So Zhou Pengyue spoke again, “Where are you right now?”
After a moment, Lin Xingchen said, “Since he’s filming, I won’t disturb him. Send me your location—I’ll head over. Come out and pick me up when I get there.”
Zhou Pengyue had been stunned, nodding repeatedly as he sent the address. Just as he did, the director called “Cut,” and he hurried over to Pei Qingjian.
“I added him on WeChat. He’ll contact me when he arrives—don’t worry,” Zhou Pengyue said.
Pei Qingjian nodded. That was all they could do for now.
“But why didn’t you tell me he was coming?” Zhou Pengyue asked.
Pei Qingjian: …
“Because I didn’t know when he was coming either!” Pei Qingjian said helplessly. “He said he’d tell me beforehand—I was waiting for his notice. And now he’s already here!”
“He just wanted to surprise you,” Zhou Pengyue said.
“But now I can’t even go pick him up,” Pei Qingjian sighed.
Suddenly, he thought of something. “Brother Zhou, do you think I should ask the director for a couple of days off tomorrow or the day after?”
Zhou Pengyue: !!!
“Absolutely not,” Zhou Pengyue said firmly. “Tomorrow you’re filming with Song Ye, the day after with Zhou Bin. Which one can you afford to offend? No way.”
“And besides,” he added more gently, “the production just started. No one else is taking leave. If you ask for time off now, you’ll just draw attention to yourself.”
That was exactly what Pei Qingjian was worried about.
Lin Xingchen had come all this way—it was only natural he wanted to spend time with him. But his scenes were with the male lead and second lead, and taking leave right after filming began just didn’t look good.
“It’s fine,” Zhou Pengyue continued. “You don’t have many scenes anyway—just one or two at a time. Finish filming first, then spend time with President Lin. It’s not too late.”
Pei Qingjian nodded. “Okay.”
Just then, the director called for him. Zhou Pengyue responded immediately and gave him a push forward.
“Go on, get back to filming. Leave the rest to me.”
Pei Qingjian quickly reminded him of a few things before heading toward the director.
Zhou Pengyue watched him leave, waited a bit more—and finally received a message from Lin Xingchen:
[I’m almost there.]
Zhou Pengyue: [Got it, coming now!]
He hurried out of the set. Before leaving, he glanced back at Pei Qingjian, who had already started filming the next scene.
Once this drama airs and he gets popular, Zhou Pengyue thought, he should really get him an assistant. That way, if something comes up, Pei Qingjian won’t be left alone.
Soon enough, Zhou Pengyue brought Lin Xingchen in.
He pulled over his own chair and had Lin Xingchen sit.
Lin Xingchen looked around the set, quietly observing.
It was his first time at a filming base. It wasn’t exactly novel—but it was more interesting than he had expected.
Then something occurred to him.
“Which one is Yang Hao?” he asked.
Zhou Pengyue was a bit surprised. Well, well—Pei Qingjian had even told him about that.
He subtly gestured with his chin, not daring to be too obvious.
Following his direction, Lin Xingchen looked over—and saw a sharp-looking woman with long hair.
He didn’t let his gaze linger on her for long—just a brief glance before withdrawing it and turning to look at Pei Qingjian.
Pei Qingjian tilted his head. Their eyes met, locking instantly.
Lin Xingchen smiled.
And just like that, Pei Qingjian completely forgot what he was supposed to do next—what he was supposed to say—standing there blankly, stunned.
“Cut, cut, cut!” the director shouted. “Xiao Pei, what’s wrong?”
Only then did Pei Qingjian snap out of it, as if waking from a dream. Embarrassed, he bowed slightly toward the director. “I forgot—let’s do it again. Sorry.”
The director nodded, and they reset the scene.
This time, it was still a two-person scene between him and Song Ye.
Kong Mingxiu was working inside the room, while Tan Xin had just leapt down from the shadow of the rafters.
Looking a little bored, Tan Xin walked over, leaning in to peek at what Kong Mingxiu was writing.
“Can you understand it?” Kong Mingxiu asked.
“I’ve studied before,” Tan Xin replied proudly.
Kong Mingxiu ignored him and continued writing.
But after a moment, Tan Xin’s hesitant voice came again. “Um… what does this mean?”
“I thought you said you studied?” Kong Mingxiu looked up at him.
Tan Xin scratched his head, a little embarrassed, his eyes bright and clear. “Yeah, but not this kind of book…”
Kong Mingxiu nodded in understanding.
He must have studied enough to recognize most characters—but only at a basic level, probably just enough to read, not to truly understand.
He took a few books from the shelf and handed them over. “See which one you like.”
Tan Xin happily accepted them, sat to the side, and began flipping through.
But as he read, his brows gradually furrowed.
Didn’t understand.
He set that one aside and picked up another.
Still didn’t understand.
It wasn’t until the fourth book that his eyes finally lit up.
“This one’s good!” he said happily. “I can read this!”
Kong Mingxiu glanced at it and more or less gauged his level.
“Then start with that one. If there’s anything you don’t understand, just ask me.”
“Mm!” Tan Xin nodded cheerfully.
He leaned over Kong Mingxiu’s desk, reading—and soon enough ran into a problem. He leaned closer, holding the book up in front of Kong Mingxiu. “What does this sentence mean?”
Kong Mingxiu patiently explained, and Tan Xin listened attentively.
And just like that, the two of them passed a quiet afternoon together.
—
Not far away, Lin Xingchen watched them—especially how close they were sitting—and frowned slightly.
That’s way too close.
Can’t they sit across from each other? Do they have to sit side by side like that?!
He had come all this way—was it really to watch Pei Qingjian practically pressed up against someone else?
“Is it always like this when they film?” Lin Xingchen asked Zhou Pengyue.
Zhou Pengyue looked confused. “Like what?”
“Like they’re glued together.”
Zhou Pengyue: …
Looking at the obvious dissatisfaction—and jealousy—in Lin Xingchen’s eyes, Zhou Pengyue screamed internally:
Aren’t you two just friends?!!
And you still have the nerve to say you’re just friends?!
You monitor whether he drinks, he gets jealous when you get close to someone else—and you call that just friends?!
Zhou Pengyue took a deep breath and chose to play dumb.
“Of course not,” he said, defending his artist. “This is just what the scene requires. Most of the time, Xiao Pei is either standing behind Teacher Song, walking beside him, or hiding in the rafters. He’s definitely not this close all the time.”
Lin Xingchen nodded, finally somewhat reassured.
Then suddenly, something occurred to him.
“This drama… doesn’t have any kissing scenes, right?” he asked.
His canary!
Still under contract with him!
There was no way he could accept Pei Qingjian kissing him on one side, then turning around to kiss someone else, and then coming back to kiss him again!
Just thinking about it made Lin Xingchen uncomfortable.
Zhou Pengyue: …Could you be any more obvious?!
Do you really think I can’t tell?!
“Of course not!” Zhou Pengyue said immediately. “Not only are there no kissing scenes—there aren’t even any hugs!”
“Qingjian’s character only interacts with the male lead and second male lead.”
So please, rest assured!
Lin Xingchen finally relaxed a little.
“Then be careful when choosing his future roles too,” he added.
Zhou Pengyue: …Careful about what? No kissing scenes?
You really aren’t even trying to hide it anymore, huh.
Zhou Pengyue smiled. “Of course. No problem.”
—
While Lin Xingchen was dissatisfied with the scene, someone else was even more displeased.
Yang Hao.
Pei Qingjian had already been filming with Song Ye for five days.
Five days—more than enough for Yang Hao to clearly recognize his potential.
If she had thought his performance on the first day was just luck, then after five days, she could no longer deny it.
His acting really was good.
Sure, there was still a hint of inexperience—but that very rawness gave his character a stronger youthful quality. It made him feel vivid, full of life, like an unpolished jade—untouched, natural, without any artificial refinement.
And his key scenes were especially strong.
In the scene shot on the second day—where his mission failed and he was about to be executed by Qin Yuyu—his eyes brimmed with tears, filled with stubbornness, resolve, reluctance… yet no regret.
On top of his already striking appearance, paired with this level of acting, it was almost impossible for him not to stand out.
Especially since he had scene after scene opposite Song Ye.
Song Ye’s popularity meant that anyone acting alongside him would inevitably draw attention.
From the very beginning, when Yang Hao and Xingyun decided to produce this drama, they already had a plan—
Use Song Ye as a stepping stone to push Zhou Bin into the spotlight.
That was why Yang Hao had gone to such lengths to persuade Song Ye to take the role.
Why Song Ye, who hadn’t filmed an idol drama in three years, returned for this one.
And why his fans had been so dissatisfied with the project.
Because Song Ye was leaving.
And since they couldn’t keep him—
they were going to squeeze out every last bit of value he had.
Yang Hao had already instructed the screenwriters, during script revisions, to increase Qin Yuyu’s screen time. Not only did this highlight Qin Yuyu’s deep affection for the female lead—his willingness to forsake everything but never betray her—but it also added scenes between Qin Yuyu and Kong Mingxiu, creating a sense of love and rivalry.
They had known each other since youth: Qin Yuyu admired him, yet resented that he could not be used for his own purposes, so he chose to kill him.
On the night Tan Xin went to kill Kong Mingxiu, Qin Yuyu recalled their first encounter and sighed softly in his room: “If only you had stood by my side…”
He spent the entire night awake, waiting for news from Tan Xin. Yet what came was the news of Tan Xin’s failure.
In his anger, Qin Yuyu also felt a subtle, almost guilty sense of relief. He gave himself another chance, but it failed, so he abandoned the plan to kill Kong Mingxiu.
These were plotlines absent from the novel. Yang Hao had them added intentionally—grasping both ends, trying to satisfy both sides. Fans of BG pairings could ship Qin Yuyu with the female lead; fans of BL pairings could ship him with the male lead.
After all, under her direction, Kong Mingxiu and the female lead’s romance had already been largely reduced, leaving more focus on Kong Mingxiu’s solitary career path.
Audiences of idol dramas generally preferred romance, and Yang Hao knew this well. By focusing on the CP, she effectively captured the majority of viewers.
Meanwhile, Song Ye, seeing that Kong Mingxiu’s scenes were incomplete while Qin Yuyu’s were extensive, had been reluctant to accept the role. Though he bore the title of male lead, carrying responsibilities for promotion and publicity, he lacked the treatment a male lead deserved. But Yang Hao persisted. She maneuvered skillfully so that, despite disappointment, Song Ye—his contract still in force—decided to fulfill his final obligation to her and the company and accepted the role.
Yet, because of this very drama, he became more determined to refuse any future contract renewal with Yang Hao or Xingyun.
Yang Hao had meticulously calculated everything, doing her utmost to ensure Zhou Bin would gain the greatest benefit from this production.
But now, she suddenly realized she had overlooked one element—Tan Xin.
Tan Xin had no connection to the female lead; his scenes only involved Qin Yuyu and Kong Mingxiu. Early on, he served as Qin Yuyu’s secret guard, so any scenes involving Zhou Bin naturally could not be cut. Later, his role merged into Kong Mingxiu’s career arc: staying by his side, ensuring his safety, accompanying him into one dangerous situation after another.
Song Ye, as the male lead, had nearly all his romantic scenes removed; his career arc could not also be deleted. Therefore, Tan Xin’s scenes were preserved, albeit unintentionally, in their entirety.
At first, Yang Hao hadn’t thought much of this—just as initially she hadn’t considered Tan Xin’s secret guard role significant. But now, she started to worry.
The pairing of Song Ye and Pei Qingjian on screen was simply too pleasing to the eye. Combined with their deep master-servant bond, it was inevitable they would attract CP fans—especially since viewers couldn’t ship Song Ye with the female lead.
This was practically dressing Pei Qingjian in a perfect marriage outfit! That couldn’t happen. Pei Qingjian’s scenes had to be cut, or at least, he couldn’t have so many interactions with Song Ye.
Resolute, Yang Hao decided she would speak with the screenwriters tonight.
Pei Qingjian, completely unaware that his strong performance had nearly cost him scenes, had just heard the director say, “Good, take it again, this scene is well done.” Pleased, he said a few words to Song Ye, bid him farewell, and ran to stand by Lan Xingchen.
“Why didn’t you tell me before coming?” he asked, eyes sparkling. “Weren’t you supposed to let me know?”
Lan Xingchen stroked his head. “This is a surprise for you. Who knew you’d be so busy?”
“I’m not busy,” Pei Qingjian smiled. “After this scene, I’m done for the day, can go home.”
“That’s good then,” Lan Xingchen said.
“Wait for me. I’ll remove my makeup, then I can accompany you to stroll nearby, grab some food together.”
“Okay,” Lan Xingchen agreed.
Hearing this, Pei Qingjian sent Zhou Pengyue ahead with Lan Xingchen to the car, then ran to the makeup artist.
He quickly removed his makeup and returned to the car.
Lan Xingchen watched him return to his familiar self, pinching and turning his face from left to right.
“You know, you really look good in both historical and modern costumes.”
Pei Qingjian grinned. “I think so too.”
“You’re quite narcissistic,” Lan Xingchen teased.
“You feel the same way!” Pei Qingjian retorted. “If I said otherwise, it would mean you’re blind.”
Lan Xingchen: …
Pei Qingjian snuggled closer. “Where do you want to go? There seem to be a few sights nearby. Want to explore?”
“Sure,” Lan Xingchen replied. He had never been here before.
Pei Qingjian immediately started searching online, showing Lan Xingchen the options, discussing them while leaning on him.
Sitting in the passenger seat, Zhou Pengyue: …
Feeling he knew too much.
“Qingjian, you can drive, right?” Zhou Pengyue asked.
“Mm,” Pei Qingjian nodded.
Zhou Pengyue smiled. “Then Xiao Zhang and I will head back first. The car is yours. You two decide where to go.”
No need for two third wheels pretending to be clueless!
Lan Xingchen thought it a good idea. After all, he came to spend time with Pei Qingjian—no need for extra company.
“Alright,” he said. “You two go ahead.”
Zhou Pengyue: … As expected, he knew!
Zhou Pengyue grabbed the driver and got out.
The driver was completely baffled—wasn’t his job to drive Pei Qingjian? How did it end up with Pei Qingjian driving himself?
So what was he supposed to do now?
“Zhou Ge, what do we do now?” the driver asked, still confused.
“What else?” Zhou Pengyue said in a flat voice. “Back to the hotel, of course. Let’s go.”
It wasn’t far, anyway—just a casual stroll.
Pei Qingjian and Lan Xingchen switched seats, and Lan Xingchen immediately took the driver’s seat. “You rest, I’ll drive.”
Pei Qingjian didn’t object. He just found Zhou Pengyue’s gesture unusually considerate.
“Did you say anything you shouldn’t have to Zhou Ge?” he asked tentatively.
“Anything I shouldn’t have?” Lan Xingchen looked puzzled.
Pei Qingjian’s lips curved slightly. “Like me telling him we’re just friends.”
Lan Xingchen: ???
Lan Xingchen: ……