#TheRoomKeyIncidentWasSimplyReturningLostProperty?#
#YueHanPersonallyDeniesTheRoomKeyIncident#
#LanChe“Leeching”Popularity?#
Three trending topics shot up the rankings after a single Weibo post from Yue Han, and online warfare erupted everywhere.
[You say you accidentally found the room key and went to return it? Hilarious. Out of all those people, you were the one who found it? Even if you did, couldn’t you hand it to a staff member? You just had to give it to him personally? Stop trying to clean yourself up. The more you wash, the dirtier you get.]
[How long has it been since this happened before you finally came out with a statement? Why not wait until Lan Che gets married and holds his wedding banquet??]
[LOL, first time I’ve seen someone clear their name in reverse.]
[Casual viewer turned hater. No explanation needed. Some people stay unpopular for a reason. This is such an obvious attempt to leech attention. The way he eats is ugly.]
This time, even Yue Han’s fans felt helpless and couldn’t be bothered fighting Lan Che’s fans.
First, they couldn’t win. Second, there was really nothing to fight over.
Yue Han’s fans were infamous for combat ability, but Lan Che’s fans were terrifying simply because of their numbers, and their reach was enormous—men, women, children, Chinese people, foreigners…
Besides, Lan Che was publicly acknowledged as the pride of the domestic entertainment industry, practically a god of show business.
Couldn’t afford to offend them. Definitely couldn’t.
What confused them was that malicious marketing accounts had smeared Yue Han before. Fake explosive “revelations” were nothing new.
But Yue Han’s attitude had always been, “Say whatever you want. It has nothing to do with me.” His Weibo was managed entirely by Chen Zhao.
Chen Zhao also embodied the essence of being an assistant. His sole method of managing Yue Han’s Weibo was—
Posting selfies.
“Hahahaha! The pride of domestic entertainment, Lan Che, actually got rejected! Not only did he fail to get his WeChat, the other guy forcefully denied the romance scandal too. How disgusted does someone have to be with you?” Luo Fanfan laughed until he could barely close his mouth. This joke would carry him through the entire year. “Yue Han has a terrible reputation, but his usual attitude is basically ‘curse me if you want.’ It’s rare for him to personally speak up and deny something.”
“Brother Che, looks like your charm is declining.”
Lan Che did not even bother giving him the corner of his eye. He kept scrolling on his phone, gaze fixed on the screen.
It was a Weibo page. Yue Han had reposted an exaggerated claim from a marketing account saying that he and Lan Che had secretly hooked up long ago, were underground lovers in a kept relationship, and were living through some earth-shattering tragic romance.
Lan Che had not read any further. It was too absurd and painful to the eyes.
What annoyed him most was the comment Yue Han added when reposting it.
—No hookup. No keeping. No relationship.
Three nos. Simple and direct, concise to the point of brutality.
As if Yue Han were terrified of having any connection to him, as though Lan Che were influenza in the middle of winter.
Lan Che could almost imagine the other man calmly and gently typing those words.
“Brother Che,” Luo Fanfan gloated, “regretting it now?”
He had thought from the beginning that Lan Che shouldn’t have interfered.
If Yue Han beat Zhu Kun, then he beat him. Lan Che playing hero and saving the beauty was already enough, but he just had to kick in too. What, did he think Zhu Kun hadn’t been unconscious enough?
Lan Che rubbed the side of his phone with one fingertip and propped his cheek on his other hand. “I regret it.”
Good. Regret meant this person might still be salvageable. Luo Fanfan earnestly lectured him. “You should regret it. Who tells someone they got a role by handing them a room key? Anyone who didn’t know better would think you wanted to sleep with him through an unspoken deal.”
Lan Che said, “I shouldn’t have pushed him away earlier.”
Luo Fanfan: “…?” What kind of bullshit was that?
“I almost got a hug.”
“??”
“What a pity.”
“…” Luo Fanfan had been wrong. This person was beyond saving.
On the way to the Night set, the car was deathly quiet. Chen Zhao, normally noisy, sat silent like a deflated balloon.
Yue Han found it strange. “Why didn’t the Reputation Recovery Progress change?”
It was still at ten percent.
But yesterday he had publicly clarified the room-key incident with Lan Che. Logically, that should have raised his recovery at least a little.
[You were clearing your name in reverse. Reputation Recovery Progress nearly decreased.]
Yue Han: ?
Chen Zhao, who had been silent for ten minutes, seemed to have spent the whole time building up a rainstorm.
Finally unable to hold it in, he said with heartbreaking pain, “Brother Han, if I’d known you took my phone to do that, even if it meant my family line ending with me, I would’ve stopped you.”
“…” Yue Han could not understand. “Isn’t publicly denying the rumor good for both me and Lan Che? Being connected to a scandal like that with me isn’t good for him either.”
“That’s true, but…” Chen Zhao sighed. As expected, his artist understood absolutely none of the hidden currents of the entertainment industry. “If we’d clarified it immediately when it happened, we could’ve gotten away clean. But so much time has passed, and then you suddenly make a statement. It looks especially like… what’s the phrase…”
“Like you ate all the chicken and still weren’t satisfied, so you sucked every bit of flavor off the bones too. Not even leaving crumbs behind.”
The reason netizens thought Yue Han was leeching Lan Che’s popularity was simple: either keep your usual attitude of ignoring everyone no matter how they curse you, or clarify it immediately.
But if you suddenly make a denial days after the incident, it looks like you’re repeatedly exploiting the topic for a second round of hype.
Yue Han’s mind finally made the turn.
He had ruined things again.
[Your road to reputation recovery remains very long.]
Yue Han supported his forehead with one hand and sighed softly.
Yue Han’s scenes were scheduled for the afternoon. He spent the morning in front of a mirror studying the psychology of the second male lead.
He had read the second male lead’s scenes, but the character he understood best and felt most confident about remained the fourth male role, Fu Xun.
He especially liked these kinds of extreme, contradictory characters filled with intense internal conflict, because they were difficult and challenging.
Yue Han arrived two hours early. Logically, it should have been lunch break, but the crew members were still holding their posts.
Although Yue Han was fully disguised, someone still recognized him.
“Why is he here?”
“…Don’t tell me he came to leech Lan Che’s popularity…”
“That’s way too shameless…”
“Stop making things up. Yue Han came to screen-test here before. His acting was incredible.”
“Haha, are you joking? Yue Han’s acting was incredible? Are you sure you’re not being sarcastic?”
This was Scene Eighteen of Night, a direct confrontation between Fu Xun and the male protagonist, Chu Mi. It was also the scene where Fu Xun was defeated by justice and chose suicide.
Fu Xun did not have many scenes, but every one of his appearances brought a different sensory impact.
Wearing a mask, Yue Han came with Chen Zhao to an empty area with a good view.
Scene Eighteen took place in an abandoned warehouse, with spiderwebs everywhere and dust dancing in sunlight that poured through broken windows.
Fu Xun, played by Xu Xingzhe, sat on a crude chair. His expensive formal suit was wrinkled, yet he did not look disheveled in the slightest.
Even in such a shabby, damaged environment, the arrogance and nobility in Fu Xun’s bones could not be hidden.
It was the temperament of someone from the upper class, nourished by money and power since childhood.
It was also the embodiment of corruption.
“Since you’re already here, aren’t you going to say hello?”
His tone was light, filled with condescending contempt and mockery.
Yue Han sighed inwardly.
No.
That was not Fu Xun.
Director Hong Zidong only frowned slightly and said nothing. He did not call cut, nor offer any other comment.
The person who called for a stop was Lan Che.
Everyone finally got a chance to rest and couldn’t help casting grateful looks at Lan Che.
Lan Che sent Luo Fanfan to buy milk tea for everyone. A staff member brought him a coat and hand warmer. He thanked them and accepted both. By coincidence, his gaze met Yue Han’s.
There was something strangely subtle about the coincidences between people.
Just like now. Lan Che had only just stepped out of character, and Yue Han was the first person he saw.
“You’re here early?” Lan Che naturally walked over and stood beside Yue Han.
Seeing Yue Han was not wearing much, Lan Che frowned and shoved the hand warmer into Yue Han’s arms, then draped the coat over him as well.
Yue Han looked confused, but felt too embarrassed to refuse.
Lan Che had helped him before and had given him the second male role. Refusing now would only look overly affected.
Yue Han said, “Thank you.”
Lan Che indicated a small stool nearby with his eyes. Yue Han sat down with him.
Even sitting on a tiny stool, Lan Che somehow carried an easy, self-assured confidence.
Lan Che asked, “What do you think of Xu Xingzhe’s performance?”
Yue Han said, “Teacher Xu is a very promising actor. His fundamentals are solid, his line delivery is natural, and also…”
Lan Che laughed and turned to look at him seriously. “Tell me the truth.”
The truth?
It was passable.
“Passable” meant acceptable.
The performance wasn’t awkward or cumbersome and wouldn’t make people uncomfortable to watch.
Calling it superb acting would be wrong, because there were obvious shortcomings. But calling it poor acting would also be wrong, because the performance was natural, not forced, and held up under the camera.
Yue Han could not have been more sincere. “That is the truth.”
Under the gaze of such dark, bright eyes, it was difficult to question the speaker’s sincerity.
Lan Che smiled again. “But I think it’s not very good.”
Yue Han did not comment.
Lan Che was the pride and god of the domestic entertainment industry. As the first Chinese entertainer to win Country A’s Gold Award, his acting ability spoke for itself.
Naturally, his standards for acting were far higher than ordinary people’s.
Xu Xingzhe’s middling performance style looked terrible to him.
If Lan Che said an actor’s performance was good or bad, nobody dared object, because he had both the qualifications and the ability to judge.
“Lan Che, we’re continuing.”
After Director Hong Zidong explained the character’s psychology to Xu Xingzhe, he prepared for the next take.
This was Fu Xun’s final scene. Hong Zidong wanted to finish it as soon as possible.
Xu Xingzhe was already under enormous pressure acting opposite Lan Che. Then Hong Zidong listed an entire page of problems. The pressure crushed him completely.
At first he could still maintain a relaxed, casual state. After several NGs, Xu Xingzhe could not even smoothly deliver one complete line.
Hong Zidong’s face was black as the bottom of a pot. “Cut.”
Xu Xingzhe was anxious, hands twisting together as he repeatedly bowed and apologized. “I’m sorry, Director. I’m sorry, Teacher Lan. My condition is wrong. This is my fault. I’m really sorry.”
Hong Zidong suppressed the anger surging upward. If Night did not have investment from Joyful Dawn Entertainment, and if Joyful Dawn Entertainment had not specifically insisted Xu Xingzhe appear in Night, he would already have been cursing.
Still, acting opposite Lan Che truly created enormous pressure. Many veteran actors could not keep up with Lan Che. Xu Xingzhe was only a newcomer, so Hong Zidong unusually chose not to make things difficult for him.
Xu Xingzhe really was a promising actor. At his age, being able to switch between acting states this skillfully was already rare. Hong Zidong had not lowered his standards for many of the clips; the young man genuinely performed fairly well.
Unfortunately, something was missing.
If Hong Zidong had never seen a performance taken to the limit, he would not feel this maddening sense of regret.
It could clearly be filmed better.
There was no use saying more. Hong Zidong sighed. “Rest for a while. Adjust your state properly.”
Xu Xingzhe’s face was pale. He knew Hong Zidong was disappointed, but there was nothing he could do besides apologize.
As he walked toward the lounge, he suddenly heard Hong Zidong’s tone brighten, like a dead tree bursting back to life.
“Hey, perfect timing. Come act Scene Eighteen.” Hong Zidong’s grin was so huge his features nearly twisted together. Then he turned his head and spoke more flatly. “Go call Xu Xingzhe back. Let him see how it should be done.”