Before he could properly argue with Lin Kairan about who was pinning the blame on whom, Lin Kairan’s phone suddenly rang.

Lin Kairan answered the call in Cantonese. As a northerner, Jiang Lechen couldn’t understand a word of it (the only Cantonese phrase he understood was “Go eat shit!” [gif]), but he could tell from his expression that the conversation wasn’t pleasant.

After hanging up, a layer of gloom settled over Lin Kairan’s brow.

He looked at Jiang Lechen. “Kid, I have to go. It was nice meeting you today.”

Jiang Lechen: “You call me ‘kid,’ but you don’t look that old yourself.”

“I’m at least a few years older than you,” Lin Kairan said. Even when speaking Mandarin, he had a slight Hong Kong accent, which sounded just like the old TVB dramas Jiang Lechen had watched as a child.

Maybe it was his accent, maybe it was his unique presence, or maybe it was just the mutual appreciation between two handsome men, but Jiang Lechen had a pretty good impression of him.

“Can I add you on WeChat?” Jiang Lechen asked proactively.

Unexpectedly, Lin Kairan shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t have WeChat.”

Jiang Lechen: “Uh, okay, what about Instagram, Twitter, or anything else?”

“I don’t use any social media,” Lin Kairan said, sounding nothing like a modern person. “But I can leave you my email address. If you need anything, you can email me. I check my inbox regularly.”

Jiang Lechen: “…Uh, okay.”

Although he said “okay,” Little Jiang knew he would never email Lin Kairan. Emailing his academic advisor was already nerve-wracking enough. Was he looking for trouble, trying to find himself a new advisor?

…

A featured extra didn’t have many scenes, and the flying page didn’t have many lines. Jiang Lechen spent the day with the B-unit and wrapped up smoothly by the evening. There was no congratulatory bouquet to be had, but he could get an extra boxed lunch.

While they were filming, other students who had come to watch surrounded the area.

At first, everyone was excited, like it was a free show. They all held up their phones, craning their necks to see. But after watching for a while, they realized the same scene was being shot repeatedly—adjusting the lighting here, changing a camera angle there, trying different blocking…

Gradually, the crowd dispersed. Time was GPA points. The time spent watching a film shoot could be better used to memorize a few more vocabulary words and beat their classmates.

Jiang Lechen, wearing his “is he a tomboy or not” makeup, felt no shame acting in front of the bustling campus crowd. He had performance experience, after all, and his campiness in front of the camera was completely natural; he brought his inner ‘0’ to life.

At first, the assistant director had worried he wouldn’t be able to let loose. Later, he worried he wouldn’t be able to rein it in.

Once the scene was done, the assistant director took out a wad of cash to pay the extras. When he got to Jiang Lechen, however, he specifically pulled him aside.

The assistant director wore a fanny pack, just like the bus conductors who used to sell tickets. He deftly counted twelve crisp, red bills and handed them to Jiang Lechen. “Little Jiang, this is your hard-earned pay for the day.”

Jiang Lechen had thought the role paid a thousand, but it turned out to be twelve hundred. His eyes immediately lit up. He first chirped out, “Thank you, boss!”

Then he took the money, fanned it out, and checked each bill, running his fingertips over the braille dots and holding them up to his phone’s flashlight to check the watermarks.

The assistant director chuckled at him. “You’re so young, but you’re pretty experienced. Don’t worry, we may not be a big production, but we have some face to save. We wouldn’t give extras counterfeit money.”

“Since when has face been more important than money?” Jiang Lechen said, deadpan, meticulously inspecting every last bill with an iron-clad thick skin.

The assistant director didn’t rush him. After Jiang Lechen finished verifying the cash, he pulled out his own phone. “Little Jiang, let’s add each other on WeChat.”

Jiang Lechen was flattered.

He had assumed today’s job was a one-off deal. He never thought the assistant director would take the initiative to add him on WeChat! Did this mean he’d done a good job and could get more work in the future?

He bounced on his heels and immediately added him.

But to his surprise, the assistant director immediately sent him a red packet after adding him.

Jiang Lechen: “?”

Assistant Director: “Take it. The director asked me to give it to you. It’s not from the official budget; consider it a personal bonus from him.”

Jiang Lechen was even more confused.

Jiang Lechen: “Which director?”

It wasn’t a strange question. The crew had A and B units, so there were two directors. Of course, the A-unit director was the one whose name was officially on the project, while the B-unit director was the executive director who had been filming at the school today.

Jiang Lechen liked money, but not shady money. He had exchanged fewer than five sentences with the B-unit director all day.

The B-unit director’s face was sour from start to finish, the very picture of a disgruntled worker. Why would one worker dip into his pocket to subsidize another?

“Our head director, of course,” the assistant director said, his tone laced with wonder. “You’ve got some skills, kid. Our director came by the B-unit to check on our progress, and before he left, he told me to give you an extra three hundred for your hard work.”

The radar in Little Jiang’s head shot up with a whir. “…What’s your director’s name?”

“Don’t tell me you filmed all day without even knowing whose show this is!” the assistant director clicked his tongue. “Lin Kairan. You’ve heard of him, right?”

Jiang Lechen: “…………”

Little Jiang slapped his forehead. He finally remembered where he’d heard the name Lin Kairan before!

Lin Kairan, Lin Kairan, Lin Kairan—wasn’t he that famous “second-generation director” from Hong Kong?

Lin Kairan’s mother had won the Miss Hong Kong pageant, signed with a major TV station, and starred in many great shows before marrying a leading figure of Hong Kong’s third generation of directors.

Their only son, Lin Kairan, was born a few years after their marriage. He had practically grown up on film sets and had later supposedly gone to study in the US for several years, only returning to China last year.

So today, he complained about a second-generation director’s script being filler… to his face? And not only did the second-gen director not take his trash-talk seriously, but he also secretly gave him an extra three hundred yuan???

Jiang Lechen’s heart pounded. “Assistant Director, are you sure this three hundred is for my ‘hard work’ and not ‘hush money’?”

The assistant director shot back, “Is your life worth three hundred yuan?”

“…………Fair point.”

In the end, Jiang Lechen accepted the three hundred. Maybe second-gen directors had heard so much flattery that they appreciated someone whose mouth flew ahead while their brain chased behind.

…

Having earned fifteen hundred yuan in a single day, Jiang Lechen naturally had to be generous and treat his roommates to a good meal. They were long sick of the mass-produced food in the school cafeteria. They had to indulge in some gutter oil to really treat themselves!

Of course, “roommates” here referred only to the twin brothers, Da and Xiao Ding. That Meng He guy was definitely not included.

Jiang Lechen took off his makeup, slicked his hair back with a headband, and shuffled in his flip-flops towards the food street behind the school.

As a part-time idol, Little Jiang had never felt pressured to maintain a particular image. Around campus, his favorite outfit was flip-flops, beach shorts, and a school-logo T-shirt.

Anyone who didn’t know better might think he was on his way to take a shower. But the word “fashion” has always been about appearances. When Little Jiang stood there in his three-piece shower set, looking fresh and clean with his small head, long legs, and fair skin, his smile could brighten the sky.

Da and Xiao Ding loved going out to eat with Jiang Lechen. Whenever he was there, they could always find an empty table in a crowded restaurant, the waitstaff would speak to them kindly, and they could even get the change rounded down when paying the bill.

Tonight, they were having grilled fish.

In the evening breeze, the three young men sipped beer, enjoyed spicy, flavorful grilled fish, and devoured skewers of meat. It was the perfect picture of contentment.

Jiang Lechen was a terrible drinker, but he was a noob with a big addiction. He was always the one clamoring for drinks, but his face would turn beet-red before he even finished half a bottle of beer. He was already a chatterbox, and alcohol made his mouth run even faster than his brain.

Grilled fish and beer, the more you ate, the more you wanted. In a blink, the A-side of the fish was gone.

Jiang Lechen aimed his chopsticks. “Time to flip to the B-side.”

“Wait!” Da and Xiao Ding simultaneously blocked him with their chopsticks. “You can’t flip a whole fish!”

Jiang Lechen: “Huh? Then how do you eat it?”

Da Ding: “You just pick the fishbone out directly.”

Jiang Lechen: “Too much trouble.”

Xiao Ding: “Flip the fish, and you’ll capsize the boat. It’s very unlucky!”

“Pfft, pfft,” Jiang Lechen started on his ‘flexible faith’ theory again. “You two are 985 university students. How can you spout such feudal superstitions?”

“Why do I remember you going to the Yonghe Temple last month…”

“Stop!” Jiang Lechen moved like lightning, stuffing two meat skewers into his brothers’ mouths. “I’ve never heard of ‘flip the fish, capsize the boat.’ I’ve only heard of ‘a salted fish flips over.’ Stop your whining. Just tell me, do you two want to flip over with me and make a comeback or not?”

The twins, their mouths full of meat, could only make muffled noises.

Seeing them dawdling, Jiang Lechen grew impatient and flipped the grilled fish himself.

Normally, he could have flipped it easily. But tonight, he had drunk quite a bit (a whole three-quarters of a bottle!), and his chopsticks poked at the fish for a long time, almost smashing it to pieces. The top half of the fish had turned 180 degrees, but its tail was still in the broth.

As a result, the whole fish was partly flipped but not fully flipped, partly broken but not completely broken; you could say it was lying flat, but not entirely, and it wasn’t really trying either…

In ancient times, there was Schrodinger’s cat. Today, there was Jiang Lechen’s fish, a perfect metaphor for this state of being caught in the cracks of the universe.

Just as the tipsy Jiang Lechen was wrestling with his fish, his phone rang at the most inopportune moment.

An unknown number flashed on the screen. Jiang Lechen rejected the call twice, but the other party persisted.

Jiang Lechen clamped the phone between his neck and shoulder and continued trying to flip the fish, rattling off, “I don’t want a loan, I’m not learning English, I’m not buying insurance, and I’m not signing up for classes. Anything else? If not, you can hang up.”

“…” The other end was silent for two seconds before a man’s deep, solemn voice came through. “Do you know who I am?”

Have to admit, the voice was pretty magnetic.

Jiang Lechen took the phone and looked at the number. Hmm, definitely didn’t recognize it. “Are you a delivery guy? I’m not in my dorm right now. Could you leave it at the reception desk downstairs for me?”

The silence on the other end lasted even longer this time.

“Jiang Lechen,” This time, the man’s voice became even colder. “This is Gu Yuzhe.”

The name was like a potent dose of sobering medicine, clearing Jiang Lechen’s muddled brain for a split second. “!!!!”

Little Jiang’s hand trembled, and the half-flipped fishtail fell back into the broth. By some stroke of bad luck, the tail snapped right off! The broken tail dangled over the edge of the plate, and the soy-colored broth splashed onto his hand, the heat making him flinch.

“Mr… Mr. Gu?” Jiang Lechen never imagined that the person calling him would be Gu Yuzhe.

Landlord Gu was a man of a million affairs. Why would he deign to call his little peasant personally?

Gu Yuzhe got straight to the point, not wasting a single word. “You did a guest role on Lin Kairan’s set today?”

“Uh, not really a guest role,” Jiang Lechen said honestly. “I was just a nameless featured extra. I won’t be in the credits, so it doesn’t count as a guest role… Wait, how did you know?”

“I have my sources.” A rustling sound came from the other end; Gu Yuzhe was probably in his office. “As a contracted artist of this company, do you know that I can fire you directly for taking on work without going through the agency?”

Jiang Lechen was stunned. Just then, a small breeze blew past, and the alcohol he thought had dissipated started to creep back into his head. “The company doesn’t allow side jobs?”

“What company allows their artists to do that?”

“But it was allowed before,” Jiang Lechen said, his face flushed and his mind groggy. He felt wronged. “Mr. Gu, surely you don’t think we could survive in this city on the two thousand a month the old boss gave us.”

The former boss didn’t know how to run a company. He had signed 101 young men who just sat around idly, which was no solution. So, he simply let them fend for themselves. Their company wasn’t the only one that did this.

Jiang Lechen can confidently say that those “handsome security guards at music festivals” and “hot ghosts at theme parks during Halloween” that people “ran into” online were all unsuccessful trainees who couldn’t find work.

Being an extra was a legitimate job compared to being a music festival security guard. Wen Gui was even busier. He was working three jobs right now: one as a street dance teacher at a dance studio, one teaching kids guitar, and one as a resident singer at a bar on weekends.

If they had to follow Gu Yuzhe’s scorched-earth policy, their Hotboys10 would have starved to death long ago.

“…Jiang Lechen, were you born this self-righteous?”

“No, I am defending every worker’s basic right to be compensated for their labor!” Jiang Lechen said, emboldened by the alcohol.

I didn’t spend all these years studying for nothing, he thought. If I just believe whatever the capitalists say, I’ll never be able to make my comeback!

Another long silence stretched from the other end of the line.

Jiang Lechen thought Gu Yuzhe had hung up.

After a long pause, Gu Yuzhe spoke again. “I don’t care what the previous company’s rules were. You are my artist now, and you are strictly forbidden from taking any work without going through the company. Even if you want to wash dishes, the contract for washing those dishes must be reviewed by the company’s legal team.”

Little Jiang just grumbled.

Gu Yuzhe: “I’ll let it slide this time. But from now on, your face, voice, body, word you say, song you sing, and performance you give are all company property and can only be arranged by the company.”

Little Jiang’s grumbling grew a little louder.

Gu Yuzhe was a master at reading people. He could hear the reluctance in the young man’s grumbling and switched to a softer approach. “I know that as artists, you all hope to have a stage of your own. Since I’ve taken over Hotboys, I will, of course, find the most suitable opportunities for you. There will be work. You won’t have to live on two thousand a month anymore.”

“…Oh, okay,” Jiang Lechen let out a small, drunken hiccup. The late summer wind swept through the open-air diner, rustling his hair and making him drowsy.

His body felt limp, and his voice was soft. “Mr. Gu, thank you for calling me so late. Have you eaten?”

Gu Yuzhe didn’t expect him to show concern. “…Not yet. Have you?”

“I’m having dinner with my roommates right now. We ordered a table full of grilled meat and fish. My roommates asked if we should get a big mixed salad or some smashed cucumbers, for a healthier balance of meat and vegetables, and maybe some staple food. But I said no. Guess why?”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been in the industry for five years and I’m still a ‘plain’ commoner! I’m plain enough, I don’t need any more plain vegetable dishes!”

Jiang Lechen said drunkenly. “As for staple food, I don’t need that either—I can just eat the big promises the company serves up!”

“…………”

---

Author’s Note:

Little Jiang: I’ll never go hungry again in this life!