Chapter 13: The Male Supporting Role in the Entertainment Industry

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Xie Yunchuan stood outside the Lovesick Men Department, clutching his hollow heart, and remained dazed for a long while. Only after lifting his head to survey his surroundings did he remember.

Oh. This was the Underworld’s Lovesick Men Department. He had returned.

What about his wife and daughter…? No, that was wrong. Those people seemed to have become characters in a film. Instinctively, he felt that he loved them dearly, but when he examined his feelings more closely, he found nothing there.

“You’re back!”

A clear, buoyant voice rang out.

Xie Yunchuan turned toward it and saw a sturdy-looking young man emerge from the white mist. He remembered him now: one of Lord Yan’s attendants. With a wave of his hand, the boy could summon high-tech floating screens that did not exist in the mortal world. At the time, Xie Yunchuan had been astonished and wondered: Could the gods truly be the end point of science?

“I’m Yan Xiu. I’m here to receive your feedback now that you’ve completed the mission.” The boy stood before him with his hands clasped behind his back, wearing an air of solemnity. “Have you grown accustomed to missions like this? Do you still wish to continue?”

Xie Yunchuan stared blankly, unable to come back to himself at once.

The young man frowned in confusion and repeated, “Although this mission was only a trial, you lived a lifetime of wealth and contentment. Even if you were to live only that one life, it could be considered compensation for the regrets of your former existence. If you don’t wish to continue carrying out missions, Sister said you may relinquish your position as department head and reincarnate.”

Xie Yunchuan suddenly came to his senses and hurriedly said, “No! I want to continue. I don’t want to reincarnate!”

Though reincarnation meant remaining a soul, once all his memories were washed away, he would no longer be Xie Yunchuan. He would rather enter one illusion after another to carry out missions. He might become different people, but his thoughts would still be his own, and the experiences of those lives would belong to him. The sensation of being alive would be real.

At once, the young man’s face lit up with delight. “Really? Even better! Then the Lovesick Men Department is yours now. Bye-bye~~”

Xie Yunchuan thought: This… Why are you so happy? Even your voice is floating at the end… Why does it feel as though you’re getting rid of a hot potato?

“Hey! You’re just leaving like that? How am I supposed to receive my next mission?”

The young man’s retreating footsteps screeched to a halt.

“Oh, right. When the heads of these departments first arrive, Sister assigns someone to help them. Gun Gun—where have you run off to play this time?”

His roar, powered from deep within his abdomen, was so forceful that even the dense white mist surrounding the Lovesick Men Department thinned slightly.

“Mmm~ Mmm~”

A sound belonging to no recognizable animal drifted out of the mist. Xie Yunchuan turned in a circle and suddenly saw a black-and-white animal charging toward him.

“A giant panda?”

“Mmm!” The giant panda actually answered him.

Xie Yunchuan: “…”

It was remarkably intelligent, but was this really his assistant?

Before he could say anything else, the panda came waddling up to him. It half rose onto its hind legs, slapped the thick mist with one paw, and sent a mass of fog flying straight into Xie Yunchuan.

He lost his balance and fell backward. His mind churned as though it had been tossed into a washing machine. When everything finally settled, he performed a carp leap and sat upright—

He was lying on a bed. Everything around him was pitch-black, but this was not the darkness of the Underworld. It was the night of the mortal world.

Xie Yunchuan exhaled. The thought that the panda had slapped him into this place made his heart tremble. He quickly lay down and began recalling the memories of this body.

Fortunately, he had already experienced this once. He had some practice now!

The soul whose lingering obsession he had taken on this time was named Shen Ancheng, a renowned director in the entertainment industry. In his youth, Shen had spent five years as an actor. At thirty, he encountered a script he could not bear to put down and directed a modern urban television series based on it. The show unexpectedly became a hit, earning him several awards, including Best New Director. At thirty-two, he filmed a movie that he had written and directed himself, breaking the record for opening-day box-office revenue at the time and receiving widespread acclaim. He became a household name—a celebrated young director.

And now, when Xie Yunchuan arrived in this body, Shen Ancheng was thirty-three: accomplished, famous, and surrounded by flowers and applause.

That was also the year Shen Ancheng met the romantic calamity of his life—Zhou Zhiyu.

The morning sunlight slowly spread across the prosperous city from east to west. The sleeping streets gradually returned to their usual traffic and bustle, and the noise began to rise.

In a soundproofed high-rise apartment in the city center, even though the busy road below was marked deep red on every traffic map with congestion, the interior remained perfectly quiet. Only sunlight slipped through the gap in the curtains and scattered across the dark-gray bed.

Shen Ancheng, now inhabited by Xie Yunchuan, was awakened by the alarm on his phone.

He had spent most of the night sorting through his memories, and was so exhausted that he groped clumsily around the bedside. After fumbling for a long while, he woke completely, sat up in irritation, saw the phone vibrating endlessly on the nightstand, and forcefully silenced it.

The room finally returned to quiet, but his sleep was gone as well. He sat there for a while with his hair in disarray, trying to remember why the original owner had set the alarm. Then he recalled that today was the day he had promised to visit a friend on set.

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Back when he was still an actor, Shen Ancheng had filmed a political intrigue drama with Pan Wu, a series that remained a classic to this day. The two had forged a deep friendship during that time.

Recently, Shen Ancheng had been preparing the script for a new film, but he had reached an impasse and grown increasingly irritable. Pan Wu had therefore invited him to visit the production he was currently filming, hoping it would help him relax.

Pan Wu’s production was based at a Republic-era film set in a neighboring province. Shen Ancheng had set his alarm so he could get up and take the high-speed rail there.

Pan Wu’s assistant was waiting at the station at the agreed time. The moment Shen Ancheng emerged, the assistant warmly greeted him and invited him into the car.

Having lived an entire lifetime as a company president, Shen Ancheng remained perfectly composed. He nodded and asked casually, “How has Brother Pan been lately?”

He chatted with the assistant along the way.

Shen Ancheng was currently one of the hottest figures in the industry. Even though he kept a low profile when he arrived on set, he was still immensely popular. He had barely stepped into Pan Wu’s dressing room before visitors began appearing one after another, each claiming to have happened by.

Ordinary people would not dare come calling. Anyone who did was certain to possess a certain status and standing, so Shen Ancheng could hardly turn them away coldly.

When Pan Wu learned what had happened after finishing his scene, his face filled with apology. “I nearly forgot that you’re a major celebrity now. Having you come here has only burdened you.”

The corners of Shen Ancheng’s lips lifted slightly. “I came to see you. We haven’t seen each other in more than six months, have we? This is nothing.”

Pan Wu sighed as well. “Yes, it’s been over six months. How about we have barbecue and beer tonight?”

Shen Ancheng spun the phone in one hand. “Sounds good.”

After the two had spoken for only a few minutes, Pan Wu was called away for a makeup touch-up. Shen Ancheng thought it over. Rather than remain there and be approached by people trying to ingratiate themselves with him, he might as well go outside and see what an actual film set looked like. He possessed the original owner’s memories, after all, but had never put that knowledge into practice himself.

The production was filming in a Republic-era dance hall within a movie city. Combining what he knew from the memories with his observations of how everyone was being directed, Shen Ancheng guessed that the scene involved a dance hall girl.

But the filming was going terribly.

The actress playing the dancer was supposed to dance with the male lead in the ballroom. Yet Shen Ancheng could tell at a glance that her expression was stiff. Unless she was portraying a woman forced to sell her talents—or coerced by the man before her—her demeanor was entirely incompatible with the role of a dance hall girl.

The scene had probably already been halted countless times. By the time Shen Ancheng arrived, the director was scowling as he shouted, “Cut!” The next second, in full view of everyone and from a considerable distance away, he launched into a furious tirade.

“Did you even read the script? You’re playing a dance hall girl—a woman perfectly at ease in a pleasure house! What is that expression on your face? Is your head full of sewage? I’ve told you eight times and you still can’t do it! Who brought her here? Get her out! Replace her! Grab anyone off the street—they’d do a better job than you!”

As a fellow director, Shen Ancheng instinctively felt sympathy for him. Forget it—when you encountered an actor like this, you truly wished you could possess their body and play the scene yourself.

The actress turned pale with fright. She bowed repeatedly and apologized, insisting that she would improve and begging for another chance.

Shen Ancheng shook his head. He knew the production would not resume filming for the time being, so he skirted around the set and headed outside. He could already see that the actress’s career here was over. She was pitiable, certainly, but she genuinely lacked ability. Even when an opportunity was placed right in front of her, she could not seize it.

He wandered outside the dance hall, taking in the scenery and set construction in the area while turning his thoughts toward the script the original owner was currently struggling to complete.

The original owner’s new script was also set during the Republic era. He wanted to make a campus romance set in those years. Youth romances were extremely popular at the moment, but he had little interest in them. Then one day, he had encountered a story in a documentary and suddenly found himself overflowing with inspiration. He wanted to bring this tale—from school, through the flames of war, and finally into peace—to the screen.

Following the original owner’s train of thought, Shen Ancheng imagined the story of those forebears: the youthful, fervent love letters they had exchanged at school; the burning passion with which two hearts, joined in understanding, pursued the truth; the decisiveness with which they left the classroom for the battlefield, along with the “selfish thoughts” they could not wholly cast aside…

Lost in thought, he forgot how far he had walked. Before long, he found himself at another production that was filming nearby.

Because the shoot was taking place outdoors, the crew had formed a ring around the set without completely driving away the tourists who had gathered to watch. There were simply so many staff members inside, deliberately blocking the actors from view, that the onlookers could see almost nothing despite their efforts.

Shen Ancheng glanced over. The autumn weather was crisp and pleasant, but in a crowd this tightly packed, the air became hot and stuffy, filled with a jumble of odors. He had no interest in it and turned away to avoid the crowd.

As he turned, he saw a tall bodyguard holding an enormous black umbrella, hurrying toward the area with a young woman under its shelter.

The woman wore a blue blouse and black skirt, her hair tied into two braids—the unmistakable appearance of a female student from the Republic era. As she passed him, her face emerged from beneath the umbrella: cheeks as luminous and pale as jade, a straight and delicate nose, and bright, lively eyes that flickered as they swept briefly in his direction.

Shen Ancheng’s breath caught. Even the space behind him seemed to fall silent.

Pure and spirited, she looked like a genuine eighteen-year-old girl from the Republic era.

Zhou Zhiyu.

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Shen Ancheng’s eyes widened slightly. He had not expected that merely coming out for a walk would lead him to encounter, ahead of schedule, the object of the original owner’s obsessive love.

Zhou Zhiyu had made her debut two years earlier, beginning with supporting roles. Now she had finally established a name for herself within the industry. Every director and actor who had worked with her praised her without exception.

The original owner was no different.

He believed Zhou Zhiyu was a born actress, someone heaven itself had chosen to feed. She understood direction instantly, interpreted her roles with unusual depth and insight, and possessed beautiful features that seemed to have no unflattering angle. On the big screen, she could adapt to every kind of role; once off-screen and walking the red carpet, she became so beautiful that no one could replace her.

She was not conventionally breathtaking, but when she stood among others, she could outshine even the most glamorous actresses, making them appear gaudy by comparison.

Her beauty alone was not what attracted the original owner. Zhou Zhiyu’s spiritual radiance was rare in the industry. Teaching her was like a teacher encountering a prodigy. Seeing how intelligent and perceptive she was, he wanted nothing more than to impart everything he knew, protecting her as she climbed higher and higher.

While these thoughts passed through his mind, Zhou Zhiyu had already crossed the crowd and entered the enclosed set. Her figure was no longer visible.

Xie Yunchuan touched his chest and began strolling back.

Zhou Zhiyu would eventually become the foremost Chinese actress, a dazzling star in the firmament of the entertainment industry. Her own talent went without saying, but her future husband would also contribute greatly to her success, as would this admirer of hers.

It could be said that Zhou Zhiyu’s early acting skills, her understanding of the craft, and her choices and career planning were all shaped by the original owner’s instruction, guidance, and even advice.

The original owner had cultivated Zhou Zhiyu as though raising a prodigy. He had lost his heart to her, and then—

Zhou Zhiyu met the man destined for her: the owner of Radiant Pictures. Together, they would create a celebrated love story between a wealthy heir and an entertainment star.

Zhou Zhiyu regarded Shen Ancheng as her finest mentor, respecting and honoring him deeply.

Xie Yunchuan rubbed his chest and could not help saying to the original owner, “Brother, my condolences.”

The emotions stirred in his heart by seeing Zhou Zhiyu instantly settled.

The corners of Shen Ancheng’s lips curled upward. He continued strolling leisurely and started back.

As he ambled toward the vicinity of the dance hall, he heard someone making a phone call. It would be improper to listen, so Shen Ancheng quickened his pace.

“…Sister Li, could you please talk to them again for me…? He kept touching me… I… I’ve already been enduring it…”

The voice of a woman, thick with tears, was filled with restraint and pleading.

Shen Ancheng had already walked some distance away when his steps came to a halt. Slowly, he turned and looked at the figure crouched at the mouth of the alley.

The call had probably ended badly. The young woman had buried her face in her arms, her shoulders jerking as she sobbed.

He could not see her face clearly, but the image of the dancer flashed through Shen Ancheng’s mind.

He thought she would cry for a long time and was considering whether he ought to interfere when, before he could take a step, the girl—who had just been sobbing uncontrollably—stood up, wiped away her tears, and walked out.

She continued wiping her eyes as she headed away, entirely unaware of Shen Ancheng by the roadside. He could see that she was still crying, but her emotions were far more controlled than when she had first hung up. She was forcing herself to endure it, yet she had already regained her composure.

Watching her gradually disappear into the distance, he raised an eyebrow.

This girl had a stronger character than he had expected.

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