Qiao Qi wasn’t a top-tier star, nor was she some second-generation heiress; naturally, she couldn’t just storm off dramatically the way Liang Yan had. She just kept her head down and kept eating, half-listening to Cheng Yueming’s endless excited chatter about Liang Yan taking on Mist and Cloud Pavilion.

Lin Chu had a good temperament, and seeing Cheng Yueming so happy, he stopped eating too, joining in her excitement.

During this, Cheng Yueming asked Lin Chu about his upcoming schedule, wanting to arrange a table-read time for the crew. Lin Chu said, “Aside from a few small promotional events and variety show interviews, I don’t have much going on lately.”

That worked out perfectly.

Cheng Yueming turned to Qiao Qi again. Qiao Qi had a strip of cucumber in her mouth, and noticing the look directed at her, slurped it in with a quick sound, then said without much expression, “I have a commercial to film.”

Cheng Yueming asked, “What commercial?”

Right now Qiao Qi was set to play the lead in a major production; if she filmed a commercial now, it would definitely air after their drama’s announcement went public. If she happened to run into a bad production company, they might well try to ride on the drama’s momentum.

So it was better to be cautious.

Qiao Qi thought about it. “A small production, a food ad.”

“Is it airing on satellite TV?” Cheng Yueming asked further.

That wasn’t clear.

Qiao Qi answered honestly: “I don’t know.”

“Has the contract gone through?”

Qiao Qi nodded.

“Then…”

Before Cheng Yueming could finish, Qiao Qi cut in: “I’ll still film it — I’ll be careful myself.”

She understood Cheng Yueming’s worry — if she broke the contract at this stage and then ran into a bad production company anyway, they’d likely seize the opportunity to publicly claim she was throwing her weight around before she’d even become famous.

The fallout from that would be even worse.

“Alright, just keep an eye on it, then.” Cheng Yueming said.

Qiao Qi agreed.

Afterward, Cheng Yueming asked more specifically about Qiao Qi’s and Lin Chu’s work schedules, and after some thought, settled on a date for the table-read.

Just before leaving, Qiao Qi thought of Liang Yan and asked offhandedly, “Doesn’t that unique schedule of his need to be factored in — Liang Yan’s, I mean?”

Cheng Yueming waved a hand. “He’s just been idle lately, ‘fish-farming’ online — no need to worry about him.”

Qiao Qi didn’t quite follow. “Online? Fish-farming?”

Cheng Yueming went “Oh,” and quickly explained, “It’s just a joke we’ve gotten used to saying privately — you know, what’s the word, he’s been having an online romance in his spare time.”

Qiao Qi was even more startled. “Online romance?”

Liang Yan?

Top-tier idol?

Online romance?

It seemed everyone’s reaction upon hearing this was the same, so Cheng Yueming said quite calmly, “He won’t admit it, but we’re pretty sure that’s what it is.”

“Glued to his phone all day with this sleazy grin — unbearable, honestly.”

Qiao Qi thought of Li’ang and couldn’t help but sigh. “Sounds like a lot of his fangirls are going to be heartbroken.”

There was a faint note of schadenfreude hidden in her tone.

Cheng Yueming looked quite surprised. “Fangirls? You don’t really follow Liang Yan-ge much, do you?”

That was true, she really didn’t.

The only time she’d looked him up was when Li’ang had brought him up before, and she’d searched his profile then. Every celebrity’s résumé looked more or less the same anyway; she wasn’t interested to begin with, and had exited the page after a quick glance at the time.

Qiao Qi didn’t feel like admitting to it outright, and instead asked back: “What about it?”

Cheng Yueming didn’t explain right away, just patted Qiao Qi meaningfully. “Never mind — go look him up on Xiaopo Station once you’re home, you’ll see.”

“……”

With Cheng Yueming’s hint in mind, Qiao Qi didn’t even wait until she got home — she pulled up Xiaopo Station right there in the taxi.

Xiaopo Station was a video site; aside from some anime series, most of the content was fan-edited videos made by supporters for their favorite idols.

There was also plenty of content edited purely to satisfy people’s shipping fantasies, pairing up celebrities who had nothing to do with each other.

Qiao Qi rarely browsed these kinds of sites in her spare time, mainly because she had no idol of her own, no fanbase of her own, and no time to follow any celebrity anyway — there just wasn’t much need.

So she was thoroughly unpracticed at navigating it.

Fumbling her way through, she searched for Liang Yan; the video with the highest view count was a compilation of Liang Yan’s interviews.

The title, in bold caps: [Liang Yan] Did a Reporter Baby Get Made to Quit by Our Young Master Liang Today? Yes!

Qiao Qi: “……”

Seemed like it might be interesting.

She tapped it open without further thought.

The video opened with a ten-second-long remix loop, repeating one line at high frequency: “You must be dreaming?”

This line was something Liang Yan had said.

The comments scrolling by were all: hahahahahaha, you’re getting paid for this one.

Qiao Qi stared blankly, unable to understand why this kind of answer — practically dancing on the high-voltage line of a celebrity’s carefully maintained noble image — could earn a flood of coins from viewers.

She kept watching.

Ah, it was his answer to a question.

Facing a reporter’s question: “How would Young Master Liang respond to comments from fangirls expecting you to marry them with a grand procession someday?”

Young Master Liang himself, dressed in a black Zhongshan-style jacket that should have looked upright and formal but somehow, on him, took on a scholarly-scoundrel air, wore a pair of gold-wire-rimmed glasses on his nose, his peach-blossom eyes narrow behind the lenses, radiating a careless, offhand smile.

Hearing the reporter’s question, he didn’t hesitate for even a moment, tossing off: “You must be dreaming?”

The comments scrolled again: hahahahahaha, wait? Aren’t I a fangirl? Why am I laughing this hard?

Qiao Qi: “……”

A bit arrogant.

The video ran several minutes long, a compilation of Liang Yan’s attitude toward “fangirls” pulled together from various interviews.

Overall, Liang Yan’s stance toward fangirls could be summed up as: You must be dreaming? Do you even deserve it? My fans couldn’t possibly be that shameless — they’re all proper, decent kids.

Proper, decent kids… proper… kids…

Just before Qiao Qi exited the video, she caught a comment floating by: other people’s fans act like their idol’s mother, but our idol keeps trying to be our father — how noble of us.

Qiao Qi: “…………?”

Baffling.

If she couldn’t even understand this kind of fandom discourse, could she really make it in the entertainment industry?

So Qiao Qi picked up her personal phone, logged into her private WeChat, and saw that pinned contact Liangou had sent her a message about two hours earlier.

Liangou: What are you up to.

Qiao Qi thought about it, then took a screenshot from the edited video and sent it to him.

7: [image]

Liangou: ?

Liangou: Liang Yan?!

Liangou: You’re actually watching Liang Yan videos?

7: ?

7: Why are you so worked up?

7: And you still claim you’re not a Liang Yan fan?

Liangou: ……

Liangou: Baby, are you trying to entrap me right now?

7: I am not.

Liangou: It’s fine.

Liangou: You’re my Jiang Taigong, and I’m the willing fish who bites the hook.

Liangou: [shy][shy][shy]

The corner of Qiao Qi’s mouth twitched, and she coldly sent back a long string of periods.

Liangou: Are you blowing bubbles?

Liangou: Adorable, adorable.

Qiao Qi couldn’t take it anymore.

7: First-level blacklist warning.

Liangou: ……

Liangou: Ahem.

Liangou: I’m really not a Liang Yan fan.

Liangou: I just know of him — he’s pretty popular, that’s all.

That, at least, was true.

He really was popular.

7: A coworker brought up today how different he is with his fans, so I came back to look it up.

Liangou: Different how?

7: You use Xiaopo Station? Go search and you’ll see.

Liangou: I know about it.

7: And you still claim you’re not his fan?

Liangou: ……Why are you so hung up on whether I’m his fan or not?

Qiao Qi: “……”

That’s got nothing to do with your personal gender preferences, does it.

But that line, of course, Qiao Qi would never actually say.

7: None of your business.

Liangou fell silent.

A minute later.

Liangou: Fuck!

7: ?

Liangou: Were you just being cute with me just now?

7: …………

7: I was not!!

7: [get lost.jpg]

Liangou: [knocked over by love.jpg]

There was no continuing this conversation.

7: 886.

Liangou: No no no.

Liangou: I was wrong, I was wrong.

Liangou: Let’s discuss Liang Yan’s unique attitude toward his fans.

Qiao Qi felt she was starting to resemble Cheng Yueming now, having inexplicably caught a case of Liang Yan-induced PTSD herself.

But this inexplicable reaction made her feel out of control, and she was extremely unwilling to admit it, so she pretended to be entirely at peace.

7: Sure.

7: I’m just pretty curious he’d dare say something like that in public.

7: Most male celebrities value their fangirls a lot.

Liangou: That’s “most male celebrities” having their priorities backwards.

Liangou: Fans chasing stars are chasing the star — the essence of the “star” itself.

Liangou: What a star should do is improve their own professional skill, and regulate their own publicly visible conduct and lifestyle to be a positive influence — not cater to fans, and especially not cater to “fangirls.”

Qiao Qi had always known Li’ang was an intellectual elite — though he often spoke without a filter, seeming anything but serious, whenever some social news or controversy broke out, he could always cut straight to the heart of the pros and cons and its impact with remarkable precision.

She just hadn’t expected him to have such sharp insight into the relationship between celebrities and fans as well.

In a few offhand lines, he’d swept away, quickly and precisely, the confusion and doubt she’d been feeling about her coming acting career.

And so, without either of them noticing, Qiao Qi’s fondness for this Li’ang — someone she’d never actually met, yet had known honestly for nearly three years — grew a bit deeper still.

7: That’s actually a really good way of thinking about it.

Liangou: Mm.

Liangou: And it’s not just that my thinking’s good — Liang Yan actually does a good job of it too.

The corners of Qiao Qi’s mouth, which had just curved up, flattened right back out at that last line, and she automatically ignored it.

7: You really are a Liang Yan fan after all.

Liangou: ……Can we please move past this part already?

Liangou: You wouldn’t happen to be an anti-fan of Liang Yan’s, would you?

Qiao Qi: “……”

An anti, my ass……well, does casual dislike from a bystander count as being an anti?

Liangou: It’s fine.

Liangou: I really don’t like him!

Liangou: Go ahead and trash-talk him all you want!

Liangou: I do actually know some of his flaws.

Qiao Qi’s brow lifted, her interest piqued.

7: What flaws?

Liangou: I’ll let you in on a secret.

Qiao Qi felt inexplicably excited.

7: What is it?

Liangou: He’s not actually 185cm — his profile’s lying.

7: ……

7: …………

7: …………get lost!

Was this even a flaw?

Could this even count as a flaw?

I can see now that you’re clearly Liang Yan’s fan!

And a fanboy, at that!

Author’s note: 7: I’m going to be working with my love rival.

Liangou: For love, I sold myself out.

————

giao!

Speechless.

Last night’s update went out really late; I’d set a scheduled time meant for this morning.

Only just woke up and realized I’d set the saved draft for tomorrow morning instead……

Speechless.