Chapter 12: Am I Not Worth Having My Name Trending?

Zhang Han had no idea what had happened. But judging from what he overheard, the situation at the scene must have been terrible. He swore he had never experienced anything this bad in his life!

What was being said on the phone? What on earth had they done to my goddess? He wanted to question Nazha, but having never been treated like this before, he was momentarily speechless, too angry to form words. At that moment, he felt like a clown.

So, he simply hung up. Although he did want to turn their staged couple act into something real, who could swallow such humiliation in this situation? That wasn’t his nature. He reminded himself of that night eight or nine years ago when he had...

Meanwhile, Zhou Le had come over just to deliver some throat lozenges. Though Nazha politely let him in, Zhou Le was still cautious. Even though he was usually carefree, from the moment he saw Nazha in person, he had sworn to himself to give her a proper cupping treatment if he ever got the chance. But even so, he had to consider appearances now.

“Don’t you close the door?” Nazha teased, watching Zhou Le’s careful movements. She was flamboyant and straightforward but not careless. Over the time they’d known each other, she found Zhou Le endlessly amusing—she had never met an artist like him.

Many entertainers came from humble beginnings—waiters, extras, clerks, barbers—but a comedian? Zhou Le was the first she’d met. Although Xue Zhiqian, who had made a comeback last year, was also called a comedian and worked hard to build that persona on shows and Weibo, there was a fundamental difference. Xue’s comedy was meant to enhance his identity as a singer and artist, but Zhou Le really made his living from it.

Lying awake some nights recently, she had browsed through Zhou Le’s old jokes on Weibo, each one cleverly crafted and increasingly amusing. Many she wanted to copy and post on her own Moments as a signature.

Zhou Le always gave off a somewhat twisted yet charming personality aura, so she instinctively relaxed and was herself around him—no need to put on airs. Plus, he was a year younger, so she liked to tease him like a little brother.

“Why don’t you close the door?” Zhou Le sighed. “Sis, you have to consider the impression. There are cameras on both sides of the hallway. If someone catches this on film, it’ll be a disaster.”

Nazha smiled. “I’m not afraid of that. The company won’t reduce my resources because of this; in fact, they want me to stir up more drama.”

“Sis, if you’re not afraid, I am. I just debuted, a pure and innocent young man. If people think I’m going around knocking on doors all day, that’s bad news. Today it’s you, tomorrow it could be Dapeng, the day after, Qian Shan.”

“Hahaha, pure and innocent? You’re shameless. You want me to send you downstairs but won’t let me upstairs—that’s no different.”

Zhou Le was helpless. “Gu, I don’t even want to talk about it. Do you want me to come upstairs or not?”

Nazha laughed until she was nearly in tears. Though her teasing was suggestive, it was different when she started it.

“Alright, I’m done teasing. You should go back now. We start filming tomorrow, so get some rest.”

Only then did Zhou Le leave. He wanted to stay longer—after all, Nazha was the perfect blend of innocence and allure, top-tier in every way. No man could resist. But being new to the industry, carrying a modesty that seasoned veterans found puzzling, and with Tan Siyun having just left a few days ago, plus not wanting to leave a bad impression on his patron Yu Qianyan, Zhou Le thought it best to go back and sleep at Lao Han’s place.

On his way back to his room, Zhou Le suddenly thought of Tang Zhu’s early work, “Watching Meteor Shower Together.” Under those circumstances, if it were publicly declared, “Chu Yuxuan, you are mine!”—putting himself in those shoes, Zhou Le felt deeply uncomfortable. Like the super-dominant couple Yan Chengxu and Barbie Hsu in “Meteor Garden,” incomprehensible to many. If he were Chu Yuxuan, at that moment he wouldn’t want to be called Chu Yuxuan or be a woman at all.

Back in his room, Han Tongsheng was already asleep. With nothing to do, Zhou Le checked Weibo and found his follower count had surged dramatically!

“Wow, getting trolled online but still gaining followers? I guess black fame is still fame?”

But soon, Zhou Le saw he had made it onto the trending list, ranked in the thirties.

“Nazha seen attending concert with unknown man.”

His name wasn’t mentioned, but Zhou Le knew it was about him because the marketing account posted a photo featuring him and Nazha. The annoying account hadn’t even released a video, just one cropped photo that cut out others and zoomed in on the two of them.

It was a classic, blurry candid snap. The exact moment captured was Nazha turning her head to look at him.

“Honestly, just from that glance, her eyes look kind of affectionate,” Zhou Le mused. But then he thought about Nazha’s little eyes—both flirtatious and innocent, utterly captivating. She could probably look at a dog that way and still seem affectionate.

“Sigh, this Zhou Le has had a turbulent life—always top of his class, yet constantly hitting walls in showbiz. Now, I don’t even deserve my full name on a trending list, just ‘unknown man.’”

Thinking further, Zhou Le worried someone might soon leak footage from Nazha’s room surveillance as well.

“No, I have to tell Dapeng tomorrow.”

Meanwhile, Dapeng was eating the throat lozenges Zhou Le had delivered, staring at the script on his computer. After a while, he sighed and made a call.

“Teacher Su, could you please revise the script again? Remove the romantic scenes between Nazha and me for now. I’ll figure out later how to fill that part.”

He spoke to his writer, Su Biao, with a tone of helplessness. As the director, he had added a romance subplot between himself and Nazha in the script, even including a kissing scene. When he cast Qiao Shan as Hu Liang, he said it was to give his good friend some perks—though that was just a cover story. The real benefit was for himself.

But after observing for a few days, he felt there was something unclear, even unspoken, between Zhou Le and Nazha. Their gazes were sticky, and they had even posted couple-style Weibo posts online, though they later explained it was to counter haters.

Dapeng and Zhou Le had met by chance through a misunderstanding, but Dapeng had a genuine appreciation for him—an inexplicable admiration, much like with Liu Yan once before. Zhou Le’s unintentional drive and energy in their joking around was contagious.

Adding the romance subplot was partly for Dapeng’s own satisfaction and partly to create buzz for the film’s promotion. But now, seeing the spark between Zhou Le and Nazha, he felt the subplot was unnecessary.

Another reason to cut the romance scenes was that Zhou Le, having just joined the production a few days ago, had already trended twice. Perhaps Zhou Le alone could save a considerable amount on promotional costs.