“Fan Qing, heading out? Then grab some milk tea on your way back—our usual place. Fifty cups should be fine, right?”
The set was noisy. The assistant director, finally catching his breath after finishing a scene, spotted the usually meek figure walking toward the exit.
The words came out of his mouth almost automatically, without the slightest thought as to how absurd it was to order an eighteen-line artist’s assistant to buy fifty cups of milk tea.
“It’s scorching out here. If we don’t drink something cold, we’re going to die.”
After yelling, the assistant director tugged hard at the shirt clinging to his bulging belly, trying to fan himself. When his peripheral vision swept over, his already foul mood instantly worsened.
“Hey, why are you still standing there? Didn’t you hear what I told you to do?”
He stood up as he spoke. At over two hundred pounds, every step made the ground tremble. He weaved past several people and strode up to the figure, raising a fan-sized hand to smack Fan Qing on the shoulder.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear what you just said.”
The figure shifted slightly to the side, narrowly avoiding the blow.
He turned his head a fraction. Beneath the overly long bangs, a dark glint flashed through his eyes, and his voice—unlike usual—was steady and clear.
“You didn’t hear?”
The assistant director found it laughable.
“Didn’t hear for real, or pretending not to hear? I was standing right here—if you didn’t hear that, what good are your ears? No wonder you’re only fit to be someone’s assistant.”
Contempt flickered in his eyes as he repeated himself.
“You hear me now? Hurry up and go buy it. Don’t waste everyone’s time. Honestly—this heat, and I still have to waste breath on someone like you. Total waste of time.”
He turned, about to head back to the shade, when a nimble figure suddenly lunged toward them.
Startled, the assistant director stumbled sideways, nearly falling over.
Just as he was about to curse, a bright, energetic voice rang out.
“Assistant Director, that’s not cool. You keep ordering our A-Qing around to buy milk tea. He’s my assistant, you know. I’m the one paying his salary—having him run errands for you like this isn’t exactly appropriate, is it?”
The speaker slung an arm around Fan Qing’s shoulders, flashing a neat row of white teeth in a sunny grin. It was Jian Feiyang, the small-time celebrity Fan Qing worked for.
He paused, then deliberately raised his voice.
“And didn’t the assistant director forget to transfer the money the last time you had A-Qing buy milk tea? Did you send it this time?”
The moment his words landed, the assistant director’s flushed face stiffened.
His mouth opened and closed several times before he muttered a sentence and stalked off.
“That was him treating everyone. Why would I transfer money? Forget it—if he won’t treat, then never mind.”
Those nearby who had been eavesdropping looked surprised, but when they saw Fan Qing’s shrinking posture, they quickly lost interest.
People like that were always bullied. His own fault for being spineless.
Once the onlookers dispersed, Jian Feiyang kept his arm hooked around Fan Qing and dragged him into a corner.
He looked at him with a mix of frustration and concern, scolding nonstop.
“I just went to the bathroom for two minutes and you’re already getting bullied again. How many times have I told you? You’re my assistant. If anyone else orders you around, you don’t have to do a thing. They don’t pay you—just ignore them!”
A-Qing was good in every way—except he was too nice and always got taken advantage of.
It was driving him crazy.
Only then did the silent Fan Qing slowly lift his head.
His bangs were long—so long they completely covered his glasses, revealing only the lower half of his face, which made him look gloomy and unapproachable at first glance.
But on closer inspection, that exposed half of his face was clean and flawless, not a single blemish. Anyone who noticed—especially someone in the industry—would probably be green with envy.
As he listened to the young man’s words, Fan Qing rapidly absorbed the “knowledge” flooding into his mind, finally piecing the situation together.
He had died—and transmigrated into a novel.
Now, he was the assistant to an early-stage rival of the protagonist.
That rival was the big boy standing in front of him.
His name was Jian Feiyang.
Interesting.
Fan Qing carefully observed Jian Feiyang’s face, full of sincere worry, and felt that things were becoming truly fascinating.
The “knowledge” he received was clearly about the same world, yet there were stark, irreconcilable differences.
In the novel centered on the protagonist Jing Yuan, Jian Feiyang was portrayed as a greedy, insatiable villain who constantly obstructed Jing Yuan’s rise.
As for his assistant, “Fan Qing,” he was written as a gloomy, twisted character—a pervert who took pleasure in secretly fabricating gossip about others.
But in the information Fan Qing received as “Fan Qing,” the original owner of this body was a taciturn yet highly capable, desire-light ordinary person.
And Jian Feiyang, whom he worked for, was depicted as young, sunny, brimming with a sense of justice—a classic next-door big-brother type.
Same people. Different versions.
Interesting.
Fan Qing quickly compared Jian Feiyang in front of him with what he knew, and ultimately concluded that the memories belonging to “Fan Qing” were far more reliable.
A celebrity who didn’t even rank particularly high on a film set, yet was willing to offend the assistant director for the sake of his own assistant—Jian Feiyang was obviously someone with a strong sense of justice.
But a next-door big brother?
Fan Qing casually—yet with practiced finesse—slipped out of Jian Feiyang’s arm from around his shoulders. He adjusted the thick glasses that also obscured his eyes and spoke.
“If you’d come a little later, you would’ve heard me asking him for the milk tea money from last time. I wasn’t being bullied.”
Jian Feiyang, left with his arm hanging awkwardly in midair, snapped back to attention, momentarily stunned.
“Really?”
Fan Qing imperceptibly curled the corner of his lips and nodded.
“Of course. You know I don’t have any money on me. I was planning to get that milk tea money back for living expenses.”
The average price at that shop was over twenty yuan per cup. Fifty cups came out to more than twelve hundred yuan—enough, given Fan Qing’s previous standard of living, to cover two full months of expenses.
Jian Feiyang eyed him suspiciously.
Had something seemed off?
Just as that thought crossed Fan Qing’s mind, Jian Feiyang broke into a toothy grin.
“That’s more like it. Then go ask him for it. By the way, are your living expenses still enough? If not, I can advance you this month’s pay first—”
“No need.”
It seemed his understanding of Jian Feiyang needed one more addition—simple-minded.
Fan Qing refused decisively.
His gaze swept over Jian Feiyang, further reinforcing his trust in “Fan Qing’s” memories.
“It’s just milk tea money. With the assistant director’s status, it’s not like he’d really hold on to such a small sum, right?”
As he spoke, he pushed up his heavy glasses and strode toward where the assistant director was resting.
“What? You’re asking me for milk tea money?”
A startled shout rang out, drawing the attention of many people on set.
The assistant director, drenched in sweat, stared at Fan Qing in disbelief, looking him up and down before repeating himself.
“What did you just say? Say that again.”
Could it be that the heat had gotten to him and he was hallucinating?
Otherwise, how could he possibly be hearing this—Fan Qing, who usually wouldn’t dare utter a peep, coming to demand money from him?
Fan Qing lowered his head slightly. It was the first time the assistant director noticed just how tall this guy was.
He even had to tilt his head up a little to meet Fan Qing’s gaze—but that didn’t make sense. He’d never thought Fan Qing was this tall before.
Fan Qing said calmly, “Assistant Director, you said earlier that my hearing wasn’t good. Seems yours isn’t much better either. But I don’t mind repeating myself—last time, you had me buy fifty cups of milk tea for the entire crew. The total was twelve hundred and fifty yuan. I can forward you the payment record if you like. Is mobile transfer convenient? Surely the assistant director doesn’t have less than a thousand yuan in his phone, right?”
As he spoke, he had already opened his payment QR code and unhurriedly held his phone out in front of the assistant director.
The assistant director felt as if something were lodged in his throat.
His eyes bulged like a cow’s, pure disbelief written all over his face.
This kid actually came to ask him for money?
And did it in front of everyone?
Had he lost his mind?
“Assistant Director?”
Fan Qing called again, feigning confusion, nudging the phone a little closer in reminder.
Damn it!
This kid—this kid really—
The assistant director panted heavily, his eyes darting before he suddenly let out a loud laugh.
“A-Qing, what kind of joke is this? Didn’t you say last time it was your treat? It was just a little over a thousand yuan—surely you’re not seriously asking me for money, are you? What, can Jian Feiyang not even afford to pay you that little salary?”
As he spoke, he shot a pointed glance at Jian Feiyang.
Fan Qing was usually so meek; he didn’t look like someone who’d dare to demand money. Jian Feiyang, on the other hand…
These thoughts flashed through the assistant director’s mind as he raised his voice even louder.
“Oh! Could it be I really got it wrong? But Jian Feiyang’s been on this set for a while now, and even though he’s the most junior, I’ve never seen him treat everyone to a meal or tea. Last time I even thought he was the one treating the crew—I’d already said as much for him. And now you come asking me for money? You’re joking, right? Isn’t that so, Fan Qing?”
Asking for money?
What a joke.
He was an assistant director. What was wrong with having someone like Fan Qing treat everyone to a bit of milk tea?
It was just a little over a thousand yuan. Did Fan Qing and Jian Feiyang really think they were something special?
If they didn’t give him face today, they’d still have to give it.
His voice was loud enough that many people resting nearby heard it. One after another, they looked over, whispering among themselves.
And in their gazes toward Jian Feiyang and Fan Qing, there was unmistakable contempt.
Thick-skinned, weren’t they?
Fan Qing immediately saw through the assistant director’s intention and sighed inwardly.
He really didn’t want to stir up trouble. If he could get the money cleanly, that would’ve been ideal.
Since that wasn’t happening…
Fan Qing pushed up his overly heavy glasses and suddenly stepped forward, lowering his voice so only the two of them could hear.
“I don’t mind paying over a thousand for this, but I remember last time the director’s spouse came for dinner, the assistant director seemed to care a lot, didn’t you? I wonder if the director even knows about this.”
The original host said nothing, but that didn’t make it useless information.
Fan Qing never wasted any usable opportunity, even if in his own memory it was a burdensome one.
To him, it was simply a piece of information he could leverage.
The assistant director, who had been laughing freely just moments ago, suddenly froze.
His eyelids twitched, his gaze toward Fan Qing hardening.
“What do you mean by that?”
Did this Fan Qing notice? Was he threatening him? That dark, previously easy-to-bully guy?
A rush of thoughts crossed the assistant director’s mind, consolidating into one clear idea—he must get this Fan Qing out of the crew.
Fan Qing spoke again, his voice barely audible.
“However, Jian Feiyang works quite hard on set. If there aren’t other problems, I don’t want to give the director trouble. As long as life goes smoothly, I can pretend I didn’t see some things. Otherwise… it might not be too peaceful for you, assistant director, what do you think?”
He let the words fall while the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.
It was a smile—but without any warmth, full instead of suggestion and threat.
The assistant director took a deep breath, weighing the pros and cons.
Within three seconds, his bulky face bore a friendly smile. He pulled out his phone and made a quick transfer.
“See? You’re scared. I was just joking! Thanks for helping with the milk tea last time. There’s still a lot of filming left, so I hope you’ll keep working hard.”
He emphasized the last words, subtly making sure Fan Qing understood to keep his word.
Seeing the payment on his phone, Fan Qing felt a wave of relief—according to his memory, ‘Fan Qing’ would have been struggling to eat; this solved an urgent problem.
Even if he had ways to earn money, after all, a clever cook can’t make a meal without ingredients.
And the assistant director’s subtle warning? Fan Qing pushed his glasses back up, replying in kind.
“Of course. Jian Feiyang will be the one troubling you most. As for me, I’m just a humble assistant—he treats me well, and there’s no problem.”
The assistant director probably didn’t really think that such important information could be “bought” with a mere thousand?
Moreover, Fan Qing already owed Jian Feiyang a favor from just arriving.
He was someone who disliked owing favors.
With the assistant director’s attention, Jian Feiyang’s life on set would be much easier.
A little fox, indeed!
The assistant director cursed quietly, realizing the deal was sealed.
No matter how reluctant, he could only blame himself for underestimating this seemingly harmless person—a sheep in appearance, but a hidden venomous snake.
His gaze fell on Fan Qing, now talking with Jian Feiyang, and he froze.
Wait—when did Fan Qing grow as tall as Jian Feiyang?