Chapter 3 Scandal Right on Schedule

After returning to his room, Xia Xiangyang thought over Ji Hanzhang’s words and couldn’t help calling his agent, Brother Liang. After explaining the whole situation clearly, he asked, “What do you think Movie King Ji meant by that?”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. Brother Liang guessed, “Maybe he overheard someone gossiping at the restaurant and was just giving you a heads-up?”

Xia Xiangyang replied, “But no one said anything in front of me. Then why would he tell me not to take it to heart?”

Brother Liang responded, “Maybe he thought you heard it.”

That seemed to be the only reasonable explanation.

Brother Liang sighed and said, “You’ve just joined the crew, and already there’s trouble—it’s really a headache. I don’t even know if that black eye of yours will fade by tomorrow. You should go explain things to Director Xiang yourself.”

Xia Xiangyang replied, “Okay.”

Brother Liang added, “By the way, did you go have breakfast alone? Why didn’t you take Xiao Gao with you? It’s not convenient to carry things around wearing sunglasses.”

Xia Xiangyang chuckled, “It’s fine. He’s staying in a different building with the staff. It’s not convenient for him to come over.”

Brother Liang said, “You’re just too easygoing. He’s your assistant—it’s his job to take care of you. If you need something, just ask him. So what if he has connections? Does that mean he gets to ignore his duties? Alright, I’ll give him a call and tell him to bring you some ice packs. Keep icing it today and switch to warm compresses tomorrow.”

Half an hour later, assistant Gao Xiaoming walked in carrying a plastic bag. “Mr. Xia, Brother Liang told me to get you some ice packs and medicine for promoting blood circulation and reducing bruising.”

Xia Xiangyang took it. “Thanks.”

Gao Xiaoming said casually, “Oh, this is just part of my job,” then plopped himself onto the sofa and started scrolling on his phone.

Xia Xiangyang glanced at him without saying anything and turned to the bathroom with the ice pack.

Gao Xiaoming curled his lip and began ranting on WeChat:
Thought he was some kind of movie king. Got a little injury and now he’s all dramatic, making me buy ice packs and medicine first thing in the morning.

He had connections in the company. Originally, his family had arranged for him to assist a top-tier celebrity for two years, then transition into being an agent. But that top star brought their own relative as an assistant, leaving Gao in an awkward spot. In the end, he got assigned to Xia Xiangyang.

Xia Xiangyang had decent acting skills and popularity. Anyone else would have been thrilled to start their career assisting him. But Gao Xiaoming was different—he only cared about the absolute top-tier in the industry. To him, Xia Xiangyang wasn’t even worth mentioning. Being his assistant was pure frustration.

His friend replied: Didn’t he just join the crew? They haven’t even started shooting yet. How’d he get injured already?

Gao Xiaoming replied: Got into a fight. Went clubbing last night and got into it with someone. Thinks he’s some big general, trying to play the hero and rescue some damsel.

His friend replied: …Damn, looks like even big stars can’t resist a pretty face, huh?
Then followed up with a voice message of sleazy laughter.

Gao Xiaoming knew his friend had misunderstood, probably thinking Xia Xiangyang had gotten into a fight over a woman. But in his eyes, whether it was for love or playing the hero, it was all the same—just showing off like an idiot. Serves him right to get punched.

He put away his phone without bothering to explain.

—

The film studio was enormous. From the map, it covered a huge chunk of the southwestern side of S City, spanning tens of thousands of acres and divided into four main areas—east, west, south, and north—each with its own distinct architectural style.

All the crews Jiang Shuwan had previously worked with were based in the northern section, which mainly featured Republic-era buildings. Many espionage and melodrama productions were based there year-round.

Liang Hao’s resources hadn’t been great. Since debuting three years ago, he’d mostly been floating around the northern area of the studio. His most notable role was in a spy drama, playing an underground agent who died heroically for the sake of crucial intelligence.

But it was precisely because of this that Jiang Shuwan believed he simply hadn’t had the right opportunity yet.

He even had a scene to shoot in the northern area this morning. After wrapping that up, he would head straight over to join the opening ceremony of The Regent Prince.

So diligent and hardworking—it almost seemed unnatural that he wasn’t already famous.

It was Jiang Shuwan’s first time in the eastern district. After leaving the hotel, she strolled around the area to get a feel for the layout.

Using reviews from a certain app and seeking outside help from her roommate Xin Li, she picked a bubble tea shop about a kilometer from the hotel. She planned to buy a drink there after the launch ceremony and deliver it to Liang Hao.

Following Xin Li’s guidance, she had already posted a “First cup of bubble tea in the month of Winter” status on her Moments—visible only to Liang Hao. Now she was just waiting to put the bubble tea into his hands.

These little moments of romantic gesture, she now understood, were the key ingredients in brewing sweet love.

Xin Li marveled at her via WeChat, saying she had always thought Jiang Shuwan was the type to have “no man in her heart, therefore naturally invincible with the sword,” and that her invulnerability in academics came from her detachment from worldly affections. Who would’ve thought she’d suddenly fall for someone and turn from a cold-hearted cultivator to a hopeless romantic?

Jiang Shuwan was still trying to make sense of Xin Li’s bizarre metaphors when another message popped up.

Lilian: By the way, Shuwan, did you say you’re with Liang Hao’s crew again this time??? Oh my god, is he joining The Regent Prince cast? IS HE???!!! So that means… YOU’RE ALSO IN THE REGENT PRINCE??!!!

Jiang Shuwan stared at the flood of question marks and exclamation points for a moment, not understanding why Xin Li was so worked up. She calmly tapped a reply.

Lab Nine’s Little Jiang: Mhm.

Xin Li’s reply came almost instantly—this time, it wasn’t text but a voice message.

Lilian: AHHHHHH! So that means you’ll get to see the breathtaking Movie King Ji in person?! Girl, is it too late for me to take a leave from school and come be an extra with you?!

Lab Nine’s Little Jiang: Breathtaking Movie King Ji?

Lilian: Ji Hanzhang! Movie King Ji Hanzhang! He’s the lead actor in The Regent Prince!!!

Then came a rapid-fire burst of ten photos.

Some showed him in long robes with white hair, others in full military uniform. There were front-facing shots and side profiles, with a variety of costumes. But on closer inspection, they were all of the same man.

If Liang Hao’s photo had that perfect cozy vibe of sunlight, ginkgo leaves, and a warm smile, then these photos needed no filters or atmosphere. The man’s looks alone were dazzling enough to steal the spotlight.

It wasn’t a feminine kind of beauty either—it was defined by striking eyebrows, bright eyes, and a warmth like polished jade. And with his slightly aloof aura, he carried an air of untouchable nobility, like snow on a mountain peak.

“Breathtaking” didn’t seem exaggerated at all.

Jiang Shuwan couldn’t help but stare a little longer. At the same time, she felt an odd sense of familiarity.

Lilian: So? Did your heart skip a beat? Ready to fall for someone new in seconds?

Lab Nine’s Xiao Jiang: …I’m going to read now.

Lilian: Wait! Sister! If you ever get the chance, please get me a signed photo from Movie King Ji!!! I’ll be forever in your debt, I’ll repay your great kindness in the next life!!! Folding hands.JPG

Lab Nine’s Xiao Jiang: Probably won’t get the chance.

It wasn’t just that she might not bump into this human Adonis—even if she did, she didn’t have a photo of him on hand. She couldn’t exactly ask him to sign her phone screen, could she?

Xin Li immediately replied with a flood of emojis begging on her knees and clinging to someone’s leg.

Minor extras like Jiang Shuwan weren’t qualified to attend the boot ceremony, and she wasn’t particularly curious. After all, she’d spent some time at Film City and had seen a few opening ceremonies for small productions. Big productions were probably just more of the same with a bigger budget.

Jiang Shuwan spent the whole day in her hotel room reading. She even had lunch delivered to her room. It wasn’t until later in the afternoon, when she figured it was about the right time, that she put her book away and went out to buy milk tea.

That morning, the milk tea shop had been deserted. Now, a long line had formed. Apparently, some celebrity from a production crew was treating fans to milk tea, and the nearby shops were all overwhelmed. Fortunately, the celebrity’s order was almost done, and after waiting for over half an hour, Jiang Shuwan finally got her milk tea.

She was more than twenty minutes behind schedule.

Just as she was about to leave with her milk tea, she heard a voice behind her:

“Wow, isn’t the Prince Regent production just starting out? And it already has a scandal! Oh, it’s Xia Xiangyang—clubbing, fighting, wore sunglasses through the whole ceremony, gave reporters attitude… damn, that’s really out of line.”

Another voice added, “And here I thought he made a good impression. Ugh, someone like that shouldn’t be messing with Prince Regent. I just want to watch Movie King Ji act in peace! I’m going to comment on the official Prince Regent account. It just started—hurry up and cut your losses and replace him!”

Jiang Shuwan pulled out her phone and opened the Big Eyed app to check the official Weibo of the Prince Regent production team. Sure enough, under the most recent post celebrating the start of filming, there were already tons of comments calling for Xia Xiangyang to be replaced.

Someone in the comments linked to a marketing account’s post, which had a short video of the fight. Xia Xiangyang’s face was clearly visible.

Another commenter linked to a different post: a photo of Xia Xiangyang wearing sunglasses at the ceremony.

The photo itself wasn’t much, but the comments were clearly stirring the pot, saying things like, “Even Movie King Ji didn’t wear sunglasses—what’s Xia Xiangyang trying to pull?” When combined with the fight video, it was enough to sway a lot of bystanders into posting things like, “So this is the real Xia Xiangyang” and “This is what passes for celebrity conduct?”

【See that? This is the Melon-Eating System. We never eat the wrong melon. Now do you believe me?】

The mechanical voice suddenly chimed in again after a long silence.

This time, Jiang Shuwan was calm. She gave a simple “Oh,” exited Big Eyed, opened WeChat, tapped into a chat window, sent a message, then put her phone away.

The person on the other end was probably busy. She didn’t expect a quick reply.

【If you’re going to eat melons, then eat melons. Why are you getting involved? The world is huge, and there are countless melons. If you meddle every time you eat one, even if you had three heads and six arms, you still wouldn’t be able to keep up.】

The mechanical voice grumbled with dissatisfaction.

Jiang Shuwan ignored it.

She returned to the hotel with the milk tea, but didn’t see Liang Hao at their arranged meeting spot. She took out her phone and saw that five minutes ago, Liang Hao had messaged: You drink the milk tea. I’m busy.

Jiang Shuwan felt a bit like she had excitedly finished an experiment, only for her advisor to tell her it was next semester’s assignment.

Still, she got over it quickly. Today was the movie’s first day of filming—of course Liang Hao would be busy. It was normal that he didn’t have time to meet her.

As for the fact that Liang Hao was just playing a minor role and that today’s first scene had nothing to do with him—in theory, he shouldn’t be busy at all… Jiang Shuwan didn’t even think about it.

---

Prince Regent was adapted from a major IP. The production team was packed with stars, and the project featured a highly anticipated reunion between Movie King Ji Hanzhang and renowned director Luo Qingyao after eight years. The hype was through the roof, and online attention was massive.

The official boot ceremony promo featured costume shots of the main characters—handsome men and beautiful women. Likes soared past a hundred thousand within minutes.

By industry tradition, the first scene on the first day of filming is usually simple—to set an auspicious tone.

This opening scene was a face-off between Ji Hanzhang and Xia Xiangyang. Both were skilled actors, and the shoot went smoothly. It passed in one take.

While preparing for the second scene, Xia Xiangyang got a call from his manager, Brother Liang, and found out he was being dragged through the mud online.

“This blew up way too fast. I don’t believe there isn’t someone pulling strings behind the scenes. The problem is, I just contacted the bar. They said they don’t actually know what happened, and that the area has no surveillance. They can’t provide a full video—basically, they’re washing their hands of it.”

Brother Liang asked, “That girl—do you have any contact info?”

Xia Xiangyang: “…No.”

Brother Liang: “Name?”

Xia Xiangyang: “Don’t know. Then the bar staff came and broke us up, and she left.”

Brother Liang sighed. “Seriously? Not even a thank you?”

Xia Xiangyang was silent.

He didn’t step in expecting gratitude, but the fact that the girl had left without a word did leave a bad taste in his mouth.

Brother Liang: “…Alright, I’ll think of something. I’ll try to suppress things online as much as I can.”

After hanging up, Xia Xiangyang suddenly recalled that girl in the restaurant that morning who said, “If you do a good deed, leave your name.” He chuckled at the coincidence.

He figured it was nothing more than that—a coincidence—but somehow, it felt like fate was deliberately reminding him.

The following scenes weren’t complicated, but Xia Xiangyang was clearly distracted. He flubbed a few takes, though they eventually finished the shoot without issue. When they wrapped, Ji Hanzhang gave him a meaningful glance but said nothing.

Others were far less subtle. Xia Xiangyang could feel curious stares and noticed groups of people whispering while sneaking glances at him.

He felt irritable and skipped dinner, heading straight back to his room.

#XiaXiangyangClubbingFightingThrowingAttitude was already trending.

After the initial video and photo were posted by marketing accounts, someone claiming to be an industry insider added more fuel, saying Xia Xiangyang fought over a girl and had a notoriously bad temper—his downfall was only a matter of time.

That post included behind-the-scenes photos from the Prince Regent set taken earlier that afternoon. The pictures were clear and obviously taken by someone on the crew, which made the claims seem all the more credible.

Now even fans in his own super-topic were scolding him.

“I was so happy when you landed the role of Sikong Huai. Now I’m just furious! Xia Xiangyang, after all these years of staying low-key, you finally got your chance—we Sunflowers were more anxious than you! Don’t you know what this role means to you?!”

“I’m deleting my Weibo and crying as I do it! I stuck with you through thick and thin. You’ve got looks and talent, I believed you’d shine someday—but you just crushed my trust!”

“Six years a fan. Xia Xiangyang, give me back my six years of youth!”

…

Xia Xiangyang wanted to explain, but in the end, he deleted everything he’d typed into the chat box.

Right now, he had no way to prove his innocence. No matter what he said, it would be meaningless.

Time passed slowly. It wasn’t until Brother Liang called again that Xia Xiangyang realized he’d been sitting blankly on the sofa for hours.

“Xiangyang! Go look—plot twist! I’m telling you, our public security forces are incredible! Like living embodiments of justice!”

Brother Liang’s excited voice rang out in the quiet room.