Late at night, Baili Xiao leaned lazily against the headboard, reading through his script. The hallway outside was noisy—lead actors and Dai Jue had just returned from a barbecue with the producer, and now assistants and stars were crowding the area, disturbing the previously peaceful night.

Baili Xiao frowned slightly, setting the script aside and picking up his phone. He noticed a new WeChat friend request. Yu Jinghao had sent him Tang Shao’s contact info. After a moment’s hesitation, Baili Xiao accepted the request. Just as he was about to put his phone down, a message notification chimed.

Tang Yuqing: *”Master, the progress at home has been swift and smoother than expected. Thank you so much!”*

Baili Xiao merely smiled, replying lazily with a simple, *”No need to thank me.”* That day, he had shared almost all his good fortune with Tang Shao, ensuring his safety and success. As he thought of this, Yu Jinghao came to mind. Without his replenishment of energy, Baili Xiao would have been drained for a while.

Closing his eyes, Baili Xiao briefly focused on his breath, immediately sensing the cool and rich scent of citrus flowing through his body. A deep purple aura gathered over the northern constellations—a sign of great fortune. Yu Jinghao’s energy had intertwined seamlessly with his own, making him feel incredibly refreshed.

Feeling unexpectedly pleased, Baili Xiao checked the time: 11:40 p.m. There were still a few minutes left before his daily divination practice. The stars tonight were perfectly aligned—it was a good time to go out for a walk.

He casually threw on a trench coat and stepped outside. Dai Jue and his rooms were both on the ground floor, so a few strides took him outside the dormitory building. The night air was crisp, and Baili Xiao took a deep breath, enjoying the tranquility.

Just then, his phone chimed again—

Yu Jinghao: *”Best of luck with tomorrow’s filming. Rest early tonight, heart emoji.”*

Baili Xiao curled his lips in mild disdain. That cute heart emoji was completely out of character for someone like Yu Jinghao, a CEO with a strong reputation for professionalism and seriousness. It certainly didn’t match the cold, decisive image people had of him.

So, the descendant of a divine family lazily raised his hand and responded with a simple, *”Mhm.”*

Just as Baili Xiao obediently turned to head back to his room for some rest, he suddenly heard hurried footsteps behind him. He paused for a moment and turned silently.

It was Dai Jue.

Dai Jue was clearly drunk, barely able to stand straight. Oddly, neither Mike nor any assistant was with him. He stood alone, leaning against the wall, clutching his stomach in pain.

The stench of alcohol wafting from him was unbearable, testing Baili Xiao’s tolerance with every second. Just as Baili Xiao was about to turn and leave, his gaze unintentionally swept over Dai Jue’s forehead—then stopped.

A dark, ominous aura hovered over it, faintly carrying a sense of misfortune. Baili Xiao hesitated for a moment, but his instincts as a healer pushed him forward, making him suppress his distaste and take a couple of reluctant steps closer. With effort, he took hold of Dai Jue’s wrist.

The pulse was chaotic, weak, and erratic. Baili Xiao stared at the drunken man, the so-called “top star” of Huanyu, feeling an overwhelming sense of disdain.

However, as a healer, and a descendant of a divine family, it was his duty to save those in need—even those who were insignificant in his eyes.

Despite the growing repulsion evident on Baili Xiao’s face, he skillfully and quickly placed his hand on Dai Jue’s forehead. The drunk man instantly froze, as if all the heaviness in his body had lifted. His blood surged through his veins, rushing with such intensity that it felt weightless, though his mind remained trapped in a foggy stupor, unable to move as if caught in a nightmare.

Dai Jue stared blankly at the calm, emotionless black eyes across from him. Those eyes seemed familiar, yet he couldn’t remember where he had seen them. After a moment, it was as if he heard a voice saying to him, *“Promise me, share your good fortune with me.”*

Then he heard his own strained voice, as if beyond his control, replying: *“I will share my good fortune with you. I am willing.”*

The next moment, it was as if all the weight in Dai Jue’s body had been suddenly lifted, but so too was his consciousness. Like a child who had fallen fast asleep, he slumped down. Baili Xiao quickly caught him and propped him against the wall—the man, once drunk and incoherent, was now sound asleep.

Baili Xiao looked at him coldly and said, “Indulging in debauchery, nearly drinking yourself to death—what a case of reaping what you sow. I saved your life today, but I’ve taken most of your good fortune. You’ve got nothing to complain about, so take care of yourself.”

Dai Jue, deeply asleep, couldn’t hear a word. Baili Xiao wasn’t expecting any response anyway. He took off his coat, wiped his hands on the inner lining, then, holding one corner of it disdainfully, turned and headed back to his room.

It was midnight.

@Baili Tianshi: *”Auspicious for sacrificial offerings, setting traps, and hunting; inauspicious for visiting the sick, marriages, and opening businesses. The Ziwei constellation has shifted, with signs of retrograde motion. Avoid taking on any other tasks.”*

…

The next day.

It was the first day of filming for *Chang An*, and everyone woke up early. Baili Xiao was rudely awakened at 5:30 AM by Mike pounding on his door. Afterward, he spent an hour and a half in makeup, sitting in a chair as the makeup artist meticulously prepared him. By the time he changed into his costume and entered the studio, it was almost 8 AM, and the set was already bustling with people.

The scene he was filming today was Shen Ziting’s first appearance in the drama: the female lead, disguised as a young man, sneaks into a teahouse for a book gambling event. She wins all the way to the final round, only to be defeated by a stranger—Shen Ziting, who has just arrived in the capital to take the imperial exams and is making his first public appearance.

The scene wasn’t particularly challenging for Baili Xiao. Thanks to his photographic memory, he had long since memorized the lines and poems that would showcase his character. Today, his costume was a plain black robe. Shen Ziting, having just arrived in the capital, was still a poor scholar, so the robe had no embellishments, no patterns, and wasn’t made of silk or satin. Yet, despite its simplicity, the way Baili Xiao carried himself in that robe exuded a natural nobility.

His makeup was kept clean and minimal, with only a light stroke of eyeliner at the corner of his eyes. The makeup artist had initially thought that adding anything too bold would be inappropriate for Shen Ziting’s character, who was a serious scholar. But seeing Baili Xiao casually leaning back in his chair, she was suddenly struck with inspiration and decided to give him that final touch—a subtle line that enhanced his presence perfectly, like a stroke of genius.

The moment Luo Wei laid eyes on Baili Xiao, his expression lit up, and he couldn’t stop praising him. “This is what the character of Shen Ziting should be,” he thought. A cold and detached scholar might have been the original concept, but Baili Xiao’s subtle, almost imperceptible touch of allure in his demeanor brought the character to life, elevating the otherwise dry, aloof air into something vibrant and dynamic.

Luo Wei was beyond satisfied with the young actor. He patted Baili Xiao on the shoulder, unable to find the right words for a while. Eventually, overwhelmed with emotion, he just turned around and walked away, leaving Baili Xiao and his manager, Mike, confused and a little amused.

Mike, quickly snapping out of the moment, started taking pictures of Baili Xiao with great enthusiasm, already planning to post some polished shots later to boost Baili Xiao’s popularity. Meanwhile, the producer and director, who had been busy all morning preparing, finally gave the signal to officially begin shooting. The first scene, however, didn’t involve Baili Xiao. It was a confrontation between the second male lead and the first male lead. Both were in love with the female lead—one a battle-hardened prince, and the other the heroic son of the Prime Minister. The two meet in the streets, each unwilling to yield to the other.

As Luo Wei called for the scene to start, Wang Hong and Dai Jue, dressed in their costumes, immediately jumped into character. Wang Hong, a seasoned actor, carried an air of authority with just a lift of his brow.

“Who dares block my carriage?” he demanded, his voice full of unyielding command.

Dai Jue, riding a prop horse that was being moved forward by a crew member, suddenly found himself face to face with Wang Hong’s intense gaze. His palms began to sweat, and his mind went blank.

There was an awkward pause in front of the green screen that stretched for several seconds before Luo Wei, clearly irritated, called for a halt. He turned to Dai Jue and asked, “What’s going on, Dai Jue? Did you forget your lines?”

“Sorry, Director Luo, I got distracted. Let’s go again,” Dai Jue responded, his face flushed with embarrassment. Though he often had a rebellious streak when dealing with Luo Wei, this mistake was too glaring to ignore. He prided himself on being an actor who balanced idol-like looks with genuine talent. The thought of messing up the very first shot on set was too much for him to bear, so he pinched himself hard and vowed to do better.

But for some reason, it just wasn’t his day. In the subsequent takes, things continued to go wrong.

The second take began, and just as everything seemed to be going smoothly, the prop horse Dai Jue was sitting on suddenly made a loud noise when pushed forward. The unexpected sound snapped Dai Jue right out of character, turning his previously stern expression into one of pure confusion.

On the third take, Dai Jue delivered his first line without issue, but Wang Hong, having been interrupted twice before, lost his focus and missed his cue.

During the fourth take, as they pushed the prop horse forward again, the hem of Dai Jue’s robe got caught and with a loud tearing sound, the fabric ripped right from the sleeve.

The tension on set was already thick, and Luo Wei’s expression had grown darker with each mishap. When the tearing sound echoed through the studio, the atmosphere turned downright oppressive. The entire set fell into a heavy silence.

Behind the scenes, the props assistants were trying—and failing—not to burst into laughter. Someone whispered that this day had taken a bizarre turn. Dai Jue was truly having the worst luck, and while his first mistake was his own fault, everything after that had been pure misfortune.

Sitting in the back, Baili Xiao observed the chaos with calm detachment. He wore a faint, composed smile the entire time, and as he glanced over at his manager, Mike, who was practically shaking with suppressed laughter, the amusement in his own eyes deepened.

Baili Xiao wondered if Mike even realized that his loyalties had shifted. The fact that his former client, Dai Jue, was facing such a series of embarrassing blunders didn’t seem to bother Mike at all. Instead of stepping in to help, the so-called professional manager was sitting there, laughing like nothing was wrong.

With a quiet sigh, Baili Xiao put down his phone, having just been scrolling through Weibo. It was as though he had anticipated what was coming next. Calmly, he stood up just as Luo Wei, who had been too furious to speak for a full minute, finally snapped. Unable to hold back his frustration any longer, he waved his hand in exasperation and said, “We’ll leave this scene for now. Let’s move on to Shen Ziting’s entrance.” Pointing at Dai Jue with a script rolled into a tube, he scolded, “If I didn’t know you, I’d think this was your first time acting! Stay right here and watch how a rookie can get through their scenes!”

Baili Xiao raised his eyes and met Dai Jue’s venomous gaze, a look so intense it seemed like Dai wanted to devour him alive. But Baili Xiao appeared utterly unaffected by the malice directed at him. Calmly, he made his way to the center of the green screen. As he passed by Dai Jue, without breaking his stride, he leaned in ever so slightly and, in a voice only the two of them could hear, murmured, “Feeling unlucky? This is just the beginning.”

His tone was casual, almost indifferent, but the words carried a quiet menace that sent a shiver down Dai Jue’s spine.