The scene for Baili Xiao was originally supposed to take place inside the tea house set, requiring a large number of extras. However, it was still morning, and the extras hadn’t arrived yet. In the studio, there was nothing but a blank green screen. Dai Jue watched the young man standing in front of the green screen and finally understood what Director Luo meant.

This wasn’t about shooting the next scene first—it was about having a newcomer show him how to act, all while making him stand to the side and be humiliated.

Recalling Baili Xiao’s whispered comment just now, Dai Jue was so angry that his face turned pale.

Shen Yuan, who hadn’t even finished her makeup yet, had been hastily pulled into the situation. Known for her straightforward personality, Shen Yuan had many friends but never went out of her way to flatter anyone. Seeing Dai Jue, the one responsible for exposing her to this mess, her expression soured.

With a blank face, Luo Wei said, “You two work together for a bit. We’ve just started filming, so help everyone get into the rhythm.”

Baili Xiao glanced indifferently at Shen Yuan, who was still only halfway through her makeup, and offered a reassuring comment: “Director Luo just wants to test my lines. Although I’m a newcomer, I won’t embarrass the senior actors.”

Shen Yuan was taken aback by his words, and when she looked up, she found herself locking eyes with Baili Xiao. His deep, dark eyes, which had seen their share of handsome older men and fresh young actors, made her heart skip a beat.

People in the industry said this newcomer was inexperienced, shy behind his agent, poor at socializing, and emotionally unintelligent. But in that moment, Shen Yuan’s previous assumptions about Baili Xiao completely crumbled. His ability to speak was truly astonishing. With just one sentence, he preserved everyone’s dignity—hers, Luo Wei’s, and even Dai Jue’s. He placed himself in the lowest position, yet managed not to let anyone look down on him.

Shen Yuan suddenly felt that the young man in front of her was unfathomable, commanding her respect without warning.

An assistant quickly handed the script back to Shen Yuan for a quick review, while Mike dutifully held the script in front of Baili Xiao, pretending to let him skim through it. In reality, from Mike’s angle, he could clearly see that his artist was merely using the script as a cover while scrolling through his phone. To Mike’s astonishment, the screen showed a newly released stargazing app. Mike was utterly speechless but couldn’t bear to interrupt his artist’s act of maintaining appearances.

While Mike was silently conflicted, Shen Yuan signaled that she was ready to begin.

The female lead, Tang Wan, was a talented and charming character, and Shen Yuan, as a reigning Best Actress, slipped into the role effortlessly, bringing Tang Wan to life. Despite the green screen, the absence of any set, and the lack of extras, Shen Yuan convincingly mimicked pushing through a crowd, making it feel as though the extras were truly in front of her.

Her voice was lively and lilting, with a hint of playful frustration, “A city of rivers and mountains, a tree of plantains. Rain beats upon the land, as iron beats on the brave. How can one find a dream spanning a thousand autumns, a world of peace lasting a hundred years? To counter with disorder—this final challenge is indeed difficult…”

As Shen Yuan finished her lines, the studio fell into an eerie silence for two seconds. Deep in character, she suddenly realized that a professional stand-in was supposed to follow up with a line. However, the stand-in clearly hadn’t arrived yet. Even though this was just a trial scene, the thought of upsetting Luo Wei, known for his temper, caused Shen Yuan to break into a cold sweat.

In the next instant, Baili Xiao, who had been standing a short distance away, unexpectedly stepped forward. Calmly, he approached, as if examining a paper on the table, then nodded thoughtfully and said, “Indeed, this is a difficult challenge. I’ve studied poetry for many years, yet I still don’t know how to respond with disorder to order.”

Shen Yuan was stunned. Luckily, she had her back to the crew, so she didn’t have to hide her shocked expression as she looked up at Baili Xiao. His eyes swept over her briefly—just for a moment, Shen Yuan was certain she saw a hint of reassurance in them. But in the next moment, his expression reverted to that of a lively scholar.

This lifelike portrayal of an ordinary bystander lasted about five or six seconds. Then, Baili Xiao composedly stepped away, turning back after a few moments to slowly stroll back to Shen Yuan’s side. But this time, it was clear to everyone—he was no longer the stand-in character but had transformed into the black-clad Ziting.

With a faint smile on his lips, his voice cool as clouds, he recited, “The autumn rains come, unpredictable as fate, and the long nights leave the courtyard empty and desolate. Time passes like a fading rainbow, undamaged yet elusive. But alas, the world changes, and in the end, beauty withers, and fragrance fades…”

The entire studio fell into a deep, respectful silence. Baili Xiao stood at a forty-five-degree angle, facing the crew. As his final words fell, he fully turned to face Tang Wan, and in doing so, faced everyone in the studio directly.

The young man in black smiled warmly, his dark eyes like ink, with his hands lightly clasped behind his back. There was no need for exaggerated posture or gestures—his presence was already effortlessly refined and transcendent.

Even Luo Wei, who had been fuming moments before, was stunned. He originally planned to let the newcomer just go through the motions of the scene, primarily to deflate Dai Jue’s arrogance. The absence of the stand-in had been his oversight, and he had been about to call for a stop. But unexpectedly, the newcomer not only seamlessly portrayed two roles in an instant, but also delivered his lines with perfect clarity. Every movement, every angle, every gesture was executed with remarkable precision. What impressed Luo Wei the most, though, was the aura that Baili Xiao exuded—despite his years of directing, he had never seen an actor so effortlessly shift from the demeanor of an ordinary background character to that of a main protagonist.

The “protagonist aura” in television dramas is typically built with thirty percent good looks and seventy percent post-production magic—close-ups, background music, and even wind machines often do more to enhance this aura than the actor’s own performance. But everyone present knew that this was the first take on set. Everything they were witnessing was raw and unpolished, yet Baili Xiao brought it to life as if it were fully realized.

At that moment, no one was thinking about whether this newcomer might have offended the leading actor from Huanyu Entertainment. Instead, there were only four words in their minds: **limitless potential**.

Everyone, that is, except for Baili Xiao himself, and perhaps Mike, who had already seen his artist’s stunning abilities a few times before. Remaining relatively calm, Mike pulled out his phone and quietly sent a text to a certain CEO, giving him an inside update:

“Don’t worry, President Yu. Xiao is practically Director Luo’s adopted son by now.”

Yu Jinghao responded immediately: “Mm.”

…

After this take, everyone in the crew was aware that Baili Xiao and Dai Jue didn’t get along. However, unlike the usual trend in the industry, none of the staff showed the typical behavior of siding with the powerful and stepping on the weaker. Whether it was because Baili Xiao had earned a reputation for being considerate of the lower ranks the previous day, or because his performance had left everyone so deeply impressed, the attention and respect he received from the crew even surpassed that of Dai Jue. He was slowly but surely catching up to Wang Hong, the established star.

As for the shifting dynamics and undercurrents of human relationships, this descendant of the divine seemed completely unaware. All he knew was that he had smoothly helped Shen Yuan out of an awkward moment during the scene—Shen Yuan, often hailed as the “Queen of Huanyu” and a ratings magnet in the entertainment industry, seemed to be on a lucky streak lately. Her personality appeared decent too, so building a good relationship with her wouldn’t hurt.

Thus, after quietly completing his first day of shooting, Baili Xiao leisurely returned to the dormitory.

One had to admit, Mike’s management team truly excelled at controlling public sentiment. By the time Baili Xiao took a quick shower and came out, several posts had already appeared on Weibo. Though the industry norm forbade releasing images or videos of today’s events online, a few gossip bloggers from accounts like “Entertainment Gossip Highlights” managed to summarize the day in their typical casual, lazy tone.

—**@EntertainmentGossipCare**: Heard that a certain future Best Actor got shown up on set by a newcomer. Don’t know the full story, but I’m very curious. These recent newcomers aren’t to be underestimated.

—**@DramaInsider**: The younger generation always surpasses the older, and the old wave dies on the beach. How did the older wave die, you ask? Well… let’s just say they died *proudly.*

—**@TalentAgencyTopStories**: Here’s a bold prediction—within three years, Huanyu will produce a Best Actor. But the person I’m thinking of may not be who you have in mind.

…

Baili Xiao couldn’t help but chuckle as he read these posts. The way these people spoke, full of posturing and vague insinuations, was amusing. But surprisingly, their influence wasn’t small, as people quickly started speculating in the comments about what had really happened today.

No one would really spill what had happened. After all, no matter how much tension existed behind the scenes, on the surface, Dai Jue was still one of Mike’s talents.

So Baili Xiao had no choice but to pretend that nothing had occurred. He casually closed Weibo, but just as he was about to toss his phone aside, he absentmindedly opened WeChat for a quick glance. To his surprise, there was a friend request waiting for him: **“Xiao, it’s Sen Mu, please accept~”**

Sen Mu?

Baili Xiao paused for a full five seconds before he remembered who that was. The image of the energetic, witty, and outgoing young man he’d met during his initial audition at Huanyu came to mind. It had been such a hectic few days that he had almost forgotten about that big-hearted guy.

Without thinking much, Baili Xiao accepted the request. The message had been sent three hours earlier, but after waiting for a couple of minutes, there was no further response—clearly, Sen Mu wasn’t near his phone. Feeling curious, Baili Xiao opened the profile picture and entered Sen Mu’s WeChat Moments to see if the guy was really as cheerful and carefree as he seemed.

To his surprise, Sen Mu’s Moments were more like those of an older adult. It was filled with shared news articles, completely devoid of personal updates. Baili Xiao scrolled down through a couple of posts, finding them utterly dull. He was just about to leave when his thumb accidentally swiped open the topmost article.

**“XX Family’s Son Awakens After Six Months in a Coma—Is It Really Possible for Vegetative Patients to Fully Recover?”**

Baili Xiao only needed a quick glance at the headline before rolling his eyes in exasperation. This world had its strange quirks, and sensationalist news headlines were one of them. He had seen too many of these clickbait articles, and from just the headline, he knew there was no point in reading further. Naturally, he exited Sen Mu’s Moments and tossed his phone onto the bedside table.

Maybe it was because he had gotten up too early in the morning, but Baili Xiao soon started feeling drowsy. Lying in bed, his thoughts drifted over the script, and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep. When he woke up and glanced at the clock, it felt like he had slept for a long time, but in reality, only twenty minutes had passed.

Summer really had a way of making people feel drained. As he reached for his phone, a message from Yu Jinghao popped up on the screen.

**”I heard you don’t have any scenes tonight. Tang Shao wants to thank you in person, so let’s grab dinner.”**

Baili Xiao mentally calculated the time and replied: **”No need for that. I’ve got to do some early divinations tonight.”**

**”Come on, it won’t take long. Plus, I need to discuss some details with you about the GW endorsement.”**

GW again.

Baili Xiao was a bit surprised and a bit helpless. Didn’t Yu Jinghao, a CEO, have anything else to do? Sure, GW was an international brand, but at the end of the day, it was just an endorsement deal—did he really need to micromanage it to this extent?

Despite his inner grumbling, it was hard to refuse the CEO’s good intentions, so Baili Xiao resigned himself to getting up and changing clothes. He replied, **”Alright, pick somewhere nearby.”**

Yu Jinghao: **”Okay!”**