Chapter Fifteen: The Director Who Ships Couples (Part One)

After the “barbecue incident,” the two of them had grown much closer. Occasionally, they would even arrange to eat together, and their mutual understanding had deepened considerably. As a result, their scenes together went especially smoothly.

“Cut! Good, that’s a wrap. Take a break, everyone,” the director called out, a look of satisfaction crossing his face as he looked at the pair.

The assistant director sidled up. “Director, Lan Tian’s acting is really something! I thought it’d be a challenge for an idol singer to act, but he’s been a real surprise!”

The director nodded gravely. “Yes, he’s quite good.” But inwardly he thought, Of course he’s good—it’s practically typecasting. How could he not be?

Watching the two of them huddled together in the distance at every opportunity, the director narrowed his eyes inscrutably: Some things are better left unsaid.

Far off, the two were whispering together.

“How was it, how was it? My acting wasn’t bad, right?” As soon as the scene ended, Lan Tian couldn’t stop asking.

“It was good, it was good.” Bai Chenxi couldn’t help but roll his eyes; he’d lost count of how many times Lan Tian had asked him this in the past few days.

Lan Tian, reassured, was in an exuberant mood. Bai Chenxi had no doubt that if someone handed him a microphone, he’d break into song on the spot.

“Aren’t you tired of asking? You ask every single day.” By now, Bai Chenxi and Lan Tian had become close enough that their banter was casual.

“Of course not!” Lan Tian replied at once, emphatically. “I have to give it my all, show them that an idol can act too.”

“You have no idea what they said about me online after the news broke that I was going to be in a TV drama. They said all I had going for me was my face, that I had no acting skills, that I should just stick to being an idol and stop ruining television. You don’t know how mean they were.” There was a trace of grievance in Lan Tian’s voice.

Bai Chenxi was about to comfort him, to tell him he was actually great and that once the show aired, he’d prove them all wrong.

But before he could get the words out, Lan Tian touched his chin, looking completely self-assured. “Of course, I agree with them on one thing—I am good-looking. But I’m going to show them that I’ve got more than just looks. My acting is top-notch, too.”

Bai Chenxi decided to keep his mouth shut. Did this guy really need comforting?

“Cut! Cut!” The director shouted through the megaphone, “Lan Tian, your emotions are off. Right now, you’re deeply in love with her. Your eyes need to be full of love—love so deep it can’t be dissolved. And put your arms around her! Why are you standing so stiff?”

“In the story, you love her. There’s no need to hold back right now—let all your love show!”

After shouting, the director noticed the two of them standing there, stunned, and realized he might have let something slip. He picked up the megaphone again: “Take a break, everyone! Chenxi, help Lan Tian find the right feeling.”

“Sorry!” Lan Tian stood off to the side, looking dejected.

Bai Chenxi had meant to give him a confident pat on the shoulder, but as he reached out, realized reality didn’t quite allow for it. So instead, she balled her fist and gave his chest a hearty thump, thinking to herself: As long as I change tactics quickly enough, awkwardness can’t catch up with me.

She exaggerated her tone: “Seriously? You’re going to let a little setback like this get you down?”

Lan Tian immediately bristled. “No way! Do I look like that kind of person? Come on, let’s practice a bit more. I’ll get into the right mood.”

Seeing his fighting spirit return, Bai Chenxi cleared her throat. “That’s more like the spirited young master we know. That melancholic look you had just now didn’t suit you at all. It was hilarious, honestly. Hahaha~”

As Lan Tian looked about ready to explode, Bai Chenxi quickly changed her expression to one of seriousness. “Alright, enough with the jokes. Let’s run through it again and see if we can get into character.”

Lan Tian swallowed his pride and got to work, earnestly studying the scene.

“Cut! That’s a wrap on this one.” No sooner had the director finished speaking than Lan Tian threw his arms around Bai Chenxi in excitement.

Everyone nearby just assumed Lan Tian was overcome with excitement, but the director saw it differently: This was clearly two young lovers encouraging each other’s progress!

Ah, curse these eyes of mine for seeing too much.

Filming continued in the friendly, cooperative atmosphere between Bai Chenxi and Lan Tian. Sometimes, the two would even cover for each other to sneak away for a quick bite.

“Lan Tian, don’t you think people have been looking at us strangely lately?” As soon as they finished the scene, Bai Chenxi sensed an odd tension in the air.

“Really? I didn’t notice.” Lan Tian, always carefree, glanced around and didn’t see anything amiss.

Just then, Xiao Yu and Lan Tian’s assistant approached.

“Sister Bai, Sister Wang asked you to call her after you’re done shooting,” Xiao Wen said, her expression as calm as ever. Bai Chenxi found it impossible to glean anything from her face.

Lan Tian’s assistant, on the other hand, was clearly anxious, dragging Lan Tian aside and whispering urgently. Judging by his expression, it couldn’t be anything good.

“Sister Wang can’t be looking for me because I’ve done something again, right? I’ve been on my best behavior these days. Xiao Yu, you have to vouch for me!”

Bai Chenxi dialed Wang’s number while pleading with Xiao Yu. The moment the call connected, she finally caught an expression on Xiao Yu’s face—a complicated mix of sympathy, speechlessness, and perhaps, just the tiniest hint of gossip.

But Bai Chenxi had no time to ponder this before a roar erupted from the other end of the line: “Bai Chenxi, can’t you behave for once? What did I tell you before you left?”

“Sister Wang, Sister Wang, please calm down. Whatever it is, it’s my fault. Don’t get upset, let’s talk it over,” Bai Chenxi quickly admitted defeat, her hard-won experience kicking in.

Wang’s anger subsided a little. “Bai Chenxi, what’s going on with you and Lan Tian? Didn’t I tell you to keep your distance?”

Seeing Wang about to lose her temper again, Bai Chenxi hurried to cut in. “Sister Wang, there’s nothing between me and Lan Tian. Is there another messy rumor online?”

“As long as there’s nothing, that’s fine. But check the news for yourself,” Wang’s tone softened.

Bai Chenxi glanced at her phone. She and Lan Tian had been caught on camera—not just once, but repeatedly. Judging by the video, they’d been tailed since the day filming started. If she weren’t the one in the footage, Bai Chenxi would almost admire the persistence of whoever shot it.

But since she was the one on camera, her first concern was how to face an irate Sister Wang.

“Sister Wang,” Bai Chenxi said weakly.

“You’ve seen it? Care to explain?” There was no longer any anger in her tone, but it sent a chill down Bai Chenxi’s spine all the same.

“Sister Wang, Lan Tian and I are just friends. We’re in the same crew! It’s normal to have a meal together now and then. We see each other every day—I can’t just keep a cold face, can I?”

Hearing no response, Bai Chenxi pressed on, “You know how reporters are—they can spin something out of nothing. It’s inevitable that some will try to make a story out of us working together.”

“As long as there’s nothing going on, that’s fine. I’ll take care of things. Lan Tian is on the idol track—any scandal would be bad for both of you. Be careful on set, people talk.”

“Absolutely, absolutely.” Bai Chenxi promised repeatedly, thinking the crisis was nearly over. Her fingers were itching to hang up, but then came a bolt from the blue.

Wang said, “You’ve been eating well lately, haven’t you? From now on, Xiao Yu will be keeping an eye on you. No more barbecue, hotpot, or any of that until filming is over.”