Chapter 86: Comparison Reveals the Gap

Chuluoxi was somewhat surprised by Li Shuangmu’s attitude. It carried a sighing sense of disappointment, as if he were an elder unable to accept the youthful obsession with every new trend, always hoping the younger generation might be steadier, more proper—a kind of heartfelt pain. If there wasn’t some connection between them, he certainly wouldn’t react this way; it was notoriously difficult for most people to get Li Shuangmu to utter even a few words.

Yuchi Hao? Chuluoxi tilted her head and saw a strikingly handsome man approaching with a captivating gait. His thick, sword-shaped brows, eyes bright as stars, face smooth as jade, and especially those rosy, delicate lips pressed lightly together exuded an irresistible charm.

Wait, wasn’t he the male lead in “Crystal”? The campus idol drama created just to launch his career, according to rumor.

While she observed, Yuchi Hao had already stopped nearby, radiating an intense aura of masculinity at every moment. “Director Li, you’re undermining me again. When have I ever ogled lots of beautiful women? Any new roles coming up?”

In the entertainment industry, beautiful men and women are never in short supply, famous or not. Over time, anyone who survives in this business develops a discerning eye. Yuchi Hao considered himself well-acquainted with beauty, yet Chuluoxi’s serene, inward elegance—like an orchid blooming in a secluded valley—still struck him as stunning and remarkable.

Naturally, Yuchi Hao couldn’t know that Chuluoxi’s aura was cultivated over two lifetimes, a beauty steeped in experience. Such depth rarely appears in the young, creating a powerful, attractive contrast that makes her stand out instantly in any crowd.

Li Shuangmu glanced at Yuchi Hao and shook his head in secret. He couldn’t quite understand why his friend in talent management favored this young man—was it really just for his looks? “She’s not here to act; she’s just visiting the set. She’s classmates and roommates with Xiao Zhu and Xiao Liu…”

The older generation liked to address the young as “Little X”—simple and convenient. Chuluoxi had often been called “Little Chu” without issue, but hearing Zhu Xueshuang and Liu Yujia referred to as “Little Pig” and “Little Cow” struck her as amusing. It wasn’t worth mentioning, but once her thoughts wandered, the names seemed hilarious.

“Classmates and roommates? Your dorm churns out beauties, huh?” Yuchi Hao’s expression was exaggeratedly surprised—adorable to those who liked him, but annoyingly affected to those who didn’t.

Chuluoxi felt nothing in particular. After all, she’d seen too much of this.

Many artists in entertainment companies seemed molded from the same template—every gesture, expression, and glance fixed in style and presentation. Personal traits were trained into natural reactions, making them easily recognizable to the public, which became their so-called “distinctiveness.”

But every distinctive style has admirers and detractors; the company cares only for the admirers. As long as they hold onto those fans, profit is assured.

Yuchi Hao was precisely the kind of “product” born from this era’s star-making machinery. From the moment his voice arrived, perhaps many of his reactions weren’t intentional, but he followed the “handsome, seductive” path. Chuluoxi saw through it immediately, so she remained unaffected and felt no annoyance.

To ingrain a reaction so deeply that it becomes a part of daily life is no easy feat. The effort and hardship involved are unimaginable, and for that alone, Chuluoxi wouldn’t dislike him.

Her blue-eyed confidant, Ji Yanjin, was also a flower boy, yet he was the most “natural” she’d ever seen, at least without the obvious traces of training.

“Heh, you don’t understand. There’s no shortage of beauties at Imperial Film—why single out my dorm?” Chuluoxi replied with a smiling ease, graciously dismissing the young man.

Indeed, for the reborn Chuluoxi, someone like Huang Zixue could be considered somewhat mature, but Yuchi Hao was still just an immature child.

A hint of surprise flashed in Yuchi Hao’s eyes as he realized Chuluoxi hadn’t paid him any particular attention. She responded only out of courtesy, given Li Shuangmu’s presence. In another setting, Yuchi Hao suspected she might have ignored him entirely.

Though he felt a bit frustrated, Yuchi Hao didn’t dwell on it. He simply believed he wasn’t Chuluoxi’s preferred type; as an idol, he knew not everyone would like him.

But if he knew Chuluoxi regarded him as an immature brat, how would he feel?

“Don’t mind him. Despite being the lead, he’s the idlest in the cast—always flirting with the girls.” Li Shuangmu’s words were blunt, as if genuinely afraid Chuluoxi might be taken in, blackening Yuchi Hao’s reputation right in front of him.

Hearing Li Shuangmu’s directness, Yuchi Hao knew he was being disdained. He threw Chuluoxi a dazzling, flirtatious wink, then feigned heartbreak as he slipped away.

Chuluoxi gave a soft snort and shook her head in resignation. No wonder he was promoted—those who can read the room and know their place fare best in this industry.

“I’m serious. Don’t be fooled by his behavior; which girl in the crew hasn’t he tried to charm?” Li Shuangmu grew anxious, worried Chuluoxi might be taken by Yuchi Hao’s looks, for he was indeed attractive.

“Pfft—Director Li, you’re overthinking it,” Chuluoxi said, unable to suppress her amusement, warmed by his concern. “Compared to Senior Xiao, he’s far inferior…” She wanted to say he hadn’t grown up yet, but it seemed too much like personal attack, so she refrained and softened her words.

Honestly, comparing him to Xiao Jingxuan, Chuluoxi felt embarrassed for her senior; it was an unfair match.

Li Shuangmu was taken aback, then realized he’d overthought things. Anyone whose standards had been raised by Xiao Jingxuan would hardly “stoop so low.” Not that Yuchi Hao was that bad, but the gap between them was simply too large.

At last, Li Shuangmu understood why he found Yuchi Hao so unsatisfactory—it was because he had just worked with Xiao Jingxuan, and the contrast was glaring.