Zhang Jin’an’s thoughts drifted for a brief moment. Snapping back to reality, he quickened his pace and caught up to Jiang Siyang. By then, they were at the very end of the line, and the last lingering sounds of the crowd had long since faded away.
Jiang Siyang lowered his hand and explained with a smile, “I originally wanted to ask you to walk with us, but I saw you were busy chatting with the host, so I didn’t want to interrupt.”
Seeing him from such a close distance, Zhang Jin’an finally realized why Jiang Siyang’s clothes seemed to shimmer. There were subtle sequins on his left shoulder that were hard to spot unless one looked closely.
The lighting backstage had been dim, making it difficult to notice, but seeing it now, the outfit looked clean and innovative—it suited him perfectly.
Zhang Jin’an withdrew his gaze and looked Jiang Siyang in the eye. “Oh, I know. It wouldn’t have mattered if you hadn't waited; the dressing rooms are all on the same floor anyway. I could have just found you myself.”
Jiang Siyang smiled. “How could I let a senior come looking for me?”
Zhang Jin’an let out a light laugh. “Where’s he going?” he asked, nodding toward the assistant.
“I’m not sure. Probably the restroom,” Jiang Siyang replied.
The two continued walking together.
Recalling what had happened earlier, Zhang Jin’an said, “I didn’t expect you to actually admit to being my fan in front of so many people. Didn’t you feel embarrassed?”
“Embarrassed? Why would I be?” Jiang Siyang looked puzzled for a moment, then nodded. “Oh, I suppose it might sound a bit blunt, but it’s the truth. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. Your acting skills are obvious to everyone. It’s not just me—what actor doesn’t like your work?”
Zhang Jin’an was momentarily stunned. He hadn't expected Jiang Siyang to be so straightforward. If he had cut out the words "your work," Zhang Jin’an might have mistaken it for a confession. However, compared to people who put on a persona on stage but acted differently off-stage, Zhang Jin’an found this directness quite refreshing.
Zhang Jin’an laughed. “You’re exaggerating. If you keep praising me like that, it’ll go straight to my head.”
Jiang Siyang shook his head, his expression turning serious. “It’s not an exaggeration. Most actors from my generation basically use your film and television works as study material. If you asked around right now, ninety percent of them would have watched and studied your movies.”
“They study them, but you’ve practically memorized them,” Zhang Jin’an teased.
Only then did Jiang Siyang lower his head sheepishly, scratching his hair as he muttered, “I might have watched them a *little* more than they did...”
Zhang Jin’an wasn't about to let that little gesture slide. He narrowed his eyes and looked at Jiang Siyang slyly, repeating, “A little?”
Jiang Siyang: “...Quite a lot.”
Zhang Jin’an: “Quite a lot?”
“...” Jiang Siyang stopped answering and simply nodded.
Zhang Jin’an tilted his head slightly. He noticed that although Jiang Siyang was looking straight ahead, his gaze would dart away whenever Zhang Jin’an looked over.
Zhang Jin’an chuckled inwardly. Feeling triumphant, he lifted his head and asked with feigned ignorance, “Huh? But there are a few roles even I barely remember, yet you could name them instantly. Are you sure it’s just ‘quite a lot’?”
In truth, Zhang Jin’an understood perfectly well why Jiang Siyang had watched so much of his work.
After all, he had been through the same thing.
Every generation of new actors has a few seniors they admire and follow. During the rookie phase, the most effective way to improve one's acting is through imitation—mimicking a senior’s performance to learn how to act, then finding one's own style, and finally molding it into something personal.
When Zhang Jin’an was a rookie, he had been particularly fond of the works of Senior Liang Zhongcun, a three-time Best Actor winner. If someone were to ask him for a line from those films now, he could immediately tell them which movie it was from.
It was clear that he had simply become Jiang Siyang’s target for study.
But understanding it was one thing; wanting to see this honest man stammer was another.
“Maybe, well, I’ve watched them repeatedly, a few times each,” Jiang Siyang said haltingly. “After all... I wanted to learn, and you can’t learn everything from just one viewing.”
The more anxious Jiang Siyang became to explain himself, the more fun Zhang Jin’an had.
Seeing that the younger man’s ears were turning red, Zhang Jin’an finally let him off the hook. “I was just asking. It’s not an exam, don’t be so nervous.”
“I’m not nervous because of the questions...” Jiang Siyang finally turned his head to look Zhang Jin’an directly in the eye, his expression sincere. “Let’s put it this way: I originally thought you had just followed me on a whim. I never expected you to be standing next to me right now, actually talking to me. I’m still processing it.”
Zhang Jin’an became curious. “What kind of person did you take me for? Why did you think I only followed you on a whim?”
Jiang Siyang: “Because you’re online quite often, and the people you follow are quite diverse... so I thought...”
Zhang Jin’an: “Oh, I do like looking for things to watch, but do you think I follow actors just randomly?”
Jiang Siyang paused and shook his head.
As they spoke, they turned a corner. Someone held the glass door open for them, and they stepped inside to wait for the elevator.
“There you go,” Zhang Jin’an said, putting his hands in his pockets. “I wouldn’t follow you just because my sister is your fan. I followed you because I think you have potential and your acting is commendable. Besides, everyone starts as a rookie. I did too, so there’s nothing to be nervous about.”
“Mm...” Jiang Siyang nodded. “That may be true, but a senior is still a senior. Respect is due where respect is due.”
“True.” Zhang Jin’an suddenly smiled, looking at the white-painted wall. “Actually, when I first met you, I was a bit worried too.”
Jiang Siyang asked curiously, “Worried? About what?”
“Worried that the 'you' online was just a persona, and that you’d be a completely different person in reality,” Zhang Jin’an said. “After all, many people use personas to gain fans these days. I’ve seen plenty of people who are different on and off stage, so I’m always a bit apprehensive during a first meeting.”
Jiang Siyang felt a bit tense. “...And now?”
“Now, I’m relieved.” *He seems like an honest guy, and he’d make a good friend.*
However, Zhang Jin’an changed the latter half of the sentence as it reached his lips: “You really are an upright, old-fashioned model of virtue.”
Jiang Siyang blinked, then let out a smile.
The elevator arrived at the first floor, and the two stepped inside. Upon reaching the fifth floor, Jiang Siyang led Zhang Jin’an to the dressing room. When they pushed the door open, Xie Jie was already there, sitting on the sofa next to Liu Wenping.
Liu Wenping stood up when she saw Zhang Jin’an. She didn't look surprised at all; Xie Jie had likely already told her.
“Sister Liu,” Zhang Jin’an greeted her first, walking over.
“Oh? Jin’an, you’re here,” Liu Wenping shook his hand. “I heard from Qiang-ge that you were just out for a stroll today? Have a seat.”
Zhang Jin’an sat down. “I was. But as luck would have it, I ran into your group, so I thought I’d stop by and discuss something.”
Jiang Siyang sat on a small side sofa. Xie Jie poured three cups of water, placed them on the coffee table, and leaned in to whisper in Jiang Siyang’s ear, “Ask him if he’s eating here. If he is, I’ll go grab the boxed lunches.”
“Okay.” Jiang Siyang turned to the two who were chatting. “Senior, where are you having lunch?”
Zhang Jin’an turned his head. “Ah, I’ll just have a boxed lunch. I don’t feel like going out. Thanks, Xiao Jie.”
“No problem. You guys chat, then,” Xie Jie said before leaving and closing the door.
Liu Wenping squeezed Zhang Jin’an’s shoulder and laughed. “You still haven't fixed that shut-in habit of yours. It’s a good thing you don’t gain weight easily.”
“I have gained some, actually. I’ve just been working out lately,” Zhang Jin’an said, rubbing his neck.
Liu Wenping was surprised. “You actually go to the gym?”
Zhang Jin’an shook his head. “No, of course not. I bought some equipment and put it in my house.”
“Tsk, tsk. Rich people. Hey, I saw a Porsche convertible in the parking lot,” Liu Wenping glanced at him. “I remember you saying you wanted to buy a car. I assume that’s the one?”
Zhang Jin’an chuckled. “Do I really look like someone who squanders money?”
Liu Wenping’s gaze fell on Zhang Jin’an’s watch. “Maybe you should take that watch off before you say that.”
Zhang Jin’an raised his hand, showing off the watch to her. “It looks good, doesn’t it? I picked it out after looking at a bunch of them.”
“Yes, it’s nice. Only you would spend your entire paycheck the moment you get it,” Liu Wenping said, reverting to her role as a manager. After the small talk, she got down to business. “So, you said you had something to discuss with Siyang. What is it?”
Zhang Jin’an let out an ‘oh’ and lowered his hand, resting it on his thigh. “I’m looking for a second male lead for my new project.”
“Second male lead?” Liu Wenping arched an eyebrow. “Are you the lead?”
“Yes.” Zhang Jin’an nodded. “Male lead. The first and second female leads have already been cast. We’re just missing the second male lead.”
“Then I’m a bit confused. It’s not that I don’t believe in you, I’m just asking,” Liu Wenping took a small sip of water. “If you’re the lead, shouldn’t the person acting opposite you be someone other than a rookie?”
Zhang Jin’an: “This is a special case.”
Liu Wenping put down her water. “How so?”
“Because the genre might not be very popular in the current market, there are very few investors, and the production budget is limited,” Zhang Jin’an explained methodically. “Furthermore, it’s a project by Director Tang Shang. Director Tang has very high standards, and the special effects can’t be sloppy, so the acting salaries had to be cut.”
“I see. Once the pay drops, naturally fewer people are willing to come,” Liu Wenping understood. “So, what’s the pay?”
“I’m getting thirty thousand per episode,” Zhang Jin’an said. “Others will be even lower. It’s basically a labor of love.”
Jiang Siyang was surprised to hear this. To him, that amount was already quite good, but for someone of Zhang Jin’an’s stature, that salary was more than just a little low.
Liu Wenping remained calm. “Then you must really like this script?”
“As expected of Sister Liu,” Zhang Jin’an said with a smile. “The drama is an adaptation of the IP *An Yin*.”
“*An Yin*? No wonder you’re doing it. I remember you really liked that novel,” Liu Wenping said.
“Yeah, exactly,” Zhang Jin’an smiled. “I didn’t expect you to remember.”
“Of course I remember. Even though it was only for a few months, you rambled about it more than a few times.” Liu Wenping asked further, “But even if the pay is low, because of you and Director Tang, there should still be plenty of people applying, right?”
“There are, but none of them are right. Since filming hasn't started yet, I’m looking around some more.” As he spoke, Zhang Jin’an pointed toward Jiang Siyang. Jiang Siyang was caught off guard by the sudden attention.
“I think Siyang fits the role perfectly in terms of appearance. That’s why I just asked him if he’s free in September and if he’s interested. If you don’t see a problem with it, I can use this time to do a screen test today.” Zhang Jin’an winked his left eye at Jiang Siyang.
Although Jiang Siyang hadn't said a word throughout their exchange, he had absorbed every part of their conversation. His perception of Zhang Jin’an shifted once again. Zhang Jin’an was very easygoing, much like his online persona. But when it came to work, he was a different person entirely.
Even in casual, relaxed clothes, his aura was unmistakable.
The shadow of his hat couldn't hide the sharp intelligence in his eyes. He spoke without hesitation, his diction clear. The slight movement of his jawline as he spoke, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, his folded hands, and his upright posture—combined with his unique voice—made everything he said sound like a line from a script: deep and gentle.
Sitting there, Jiang Siyang felt as though he were watching a professional workplace drama from the front row, and he couldn't help but start learning from him in his mind.
“A screen test? Sure,” Liu Wenping nodded, looking around. “How about right here? I’ll step out, and you two can do it in here.”
“Is that okay? Then I’ll have to trouble you,” Zhang Jin’an turned to Jiang Siyang. “Siyang, give me your contact info. I’ll send you the audition script and give you a general overview of the content.”
“Ah, okay.” Jiang Siyang immediately pulled out his phone and opened his WeChat QR code.
Zhang Jin’an held up his phone and scanned it.
“Then I’ll head next door. Take your time. Call me when you’re done. I’ll have Xiao Jie leave the boxed lunches next door as well,” Liu Wenping said as she stood up.
“Okay,” Jiang Siyang replied with a nod.
“Do a good job,” Liu Wenping didn't forget to pat Jiang Siyang’s shoulder before she left.
With Liu Wenping gone, only Jiang Siyang and Zhang Jin’an remained in the dressing room.
“Alright, accept the request,” Zhang Jin’an said. A moment later, the other man had added him.
Zhang Jin’an held his phone, feeling a small surge of genuine pleasure.
Excellent. He finally had Jiang Siyang’s contact information.
Zhang Jin’an couldn't wait to click on his Moments. He wanted to see what Jiang Siyang’s feed looked like. Surely it wouldn't be all advertisements like his Weibo? Didn't Jiang Siyang say he loved outdoor activities? At the very least, there should be some selfies, travel photos, or private pictures that he didn't post on Weibo but would share on WeChat.
But when Zhang Jin’an saw Jiang Siyang’s most recent update, he realized things weren't that simple.
The first post was a shared article titled: *Ten Articles You Must Read to Succeed: If There Are No Results, Don’t Tell People How Hard You Worked.*
Zhang Jin’an: “?”
He looked at the second one: *Shocking! I Never Expected Such Hidden Dangers Around Us...*
Zhang Jin’an: “...?”
As Zhang Jin’an continued scrolling, he didn't find a single photo. It was all shared articles, things like: *Men Suffer in Silence, Women Shed Tears: The Truth Behind This Is...*, *Shocking! You’ll Never Guess How This Story Ends!*, *The Girl from Back Then Is Back; Forward to Ten Groups to Let Everyone See Their Story*, and so on.
Was this really not an elderly relative’s feed?
After seeing the fifteenth shared article, Zhang Jin’an couldn't hold back anymore. He asked cautiously, “Siyang, are you the one actually using this WeChat?”
“Yeah, I am,” Jiang Siyang said, looking up. “Why?”
Zhang Jin’an didn't give up. “Have your parents ever used your account?”
Jiang Siyang shook his head. “No. Why do you ask?”
Zhang Jin’an was momentarily speechless. After a long pause, he said, “Nothing. It’s quite good. Your Moments... are very enlightening.”
If one read them all, their soul would surely be elevated.
Jiang Siyang clearly didn't catch the subtext. He skipped right over it and looked at his phone. “Senior, you really do like being online.”
“Hmm?” Zhang Jin’an shifted over, leaning in next to Jiang Siyang. Jiang Siyang was currently looking at *his* Moments.
Zhang Jin’an remembered then—his Moments were basically all gaming screenshots, with only a few landscape photos from the rare times he went outside.
[Zhang Jin’an]: Penta-kill achieved.
[Zhang Jin’an]: Teacher Gu got a Triple-kill, LMAO. The most hardcore healer in the entertainment industry.
[Zhang Jin’an]: (In Teacher Gu’s voice): Why isn't your tank on the front lines? Stop acting like a scrub.
Zhang Jin’an felt quite proud and began to boast. “Look, these are all screenshots of my Penta-kills. Impressive, right? Back in the day, I—”
“Impressive,” Jiang Siyang said, then pointed to several grayed-out death screenshots Zhang Jin’an had posted. “But what are these gray ones? Did you die?”
Zhang Jin’an glanced at them and stood up abruptly. “...Alright, let’s start the screen test.”
Jiang Siyang looked up at him. “Senior, what happened back in the day?”
“Let’s not dwell on the past,” Zhang Jin’an stuffed his phone into his pocket. “We need to look toward the present. Don’t live in the past forever.”
Jiang Siyang didn't understand what Zhang Jin’an meant and continued to ask, “? But didn't you bring it up first—”
Before Jiang Siyang could finish, Zhang Jin’an suddenly leaned down. The distance between their eyes was less than a foot. Jiang Siyang didn't dare move.
Zhang Jin’an said solemnly, “I don’t want what you think. I want what I think.”
*Was that a Huang Xiaoming impression?*
Although Jiang Siyang really wanted to laugh and didn't know why Zhang Jin’an was suddenly acting like this, he still leaned back slightly. “...Okay.”
***
**Glossary**
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