I Became the Koi Actor After Entering the Book

**Chapter 66: The Lottery**

Translator: Namizaki

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What does it feel like when a character’s true nature is vastly different from their outward appearance?

Do you abandon the character, or do you love them for their true self, beyond their initial facade?

Shang Tang’s fans all faced this dilemma. After all, they had initially fallen for the warm and gentle Shang Tang, not the twisted villain he became after the reveal.

But what if this villain was exceptionally handsome?

The fans wavered back and forth, perched on the fence.

And what if the actor playing the character had a charmingly contrasting personality?

Some fans quietly retreated back to their positions on the fence.

Then today’s episode dropped.

When Shang Tang, sitting in a brightly lit café, asked, “Do you think I’m a good person or a bad person, Officer?” even viewers who had been lukewarm toward him were completely captivated, let alone the fans already wavering on the fence.

Shang Tang wore a black wool coat, a cup of black coffee steaming before him. Through the rising mist, he clasped his hands beneath his chin, his voice low and gentle.

The floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the room with brilliant sunlight. Shang Tang raised a hand to shield his eyes, casting a shadow across his face.

Shang Tang was both poison and honey, sweet to the bone yet deadly enough to seal a throat with a single drop.

As a result, he drove countless people mad. Chi Zhongqiao’s fan base exploded exponentially, and he even noticed some male content creators starting to call him “hubby.”

Chi Zhongqiao: “……” His feelings were complicated.

The next day, while killing time in Lu Yuzhou’s office playing on his phone, Chi Zhongqiao scrolled through the trending topics and was so shocked by the various “plays” he saw that he nearly dropped his phone.

Are these people’s tastes really this extreme?

He accidentally swiped past a few images, his fingers went numb, and his phone clattered to the floor.

Lu Yuzhou, who had just entered, asked, “What’s wrong, Brother Qiao?”

Chi Zhongqiao quickly picked up his phone. “Nothing.”

Lu Yuzhou chuckled. “Let me guess—did you stumble across something… “explicit”?”

As they settled into a romantic relationship, Lu Yuzhou shed his docile, obedient facade. Topics he had previously avoided were now openly discussed, and he subtly shifted his position from junior to lover.

Of course, he still knew how to be affectionate.

This transformation was seamless and silent, and Chi Zhongqiao pretended not to notice, simply going along with Lu Yuzhou’s lead. Since Lu Yuzhou was willing to change their dynamic, Chi Zhongqiao was happy to cooperate.

Chi Zhongqiao’s hand trembled slightly as he held his phone. “You’ve been looking at the fan forums?”

“Anything related to Brother Qiao, I want to see it.”

The implication was clear: He had been browsing far more than just the fan forums.

The fan forums were relatively tame, with only a small amount of explicit content. Other platforms…

Chi Zhongqiao took a step back, his expression innocent. “They just really like Shang Tang.”

Lu Yuzhou chuckled softly. “What do they call you?”

He loosened his tie and pulled Chi Zhongqiao into a hug, nuzzling against his ear affectionately. “Hubby?”

Chi Zhongqiao: “……”

This was going to be the death of him.

********

On Friday, the interview program aired.

As Chi Zhongqiao lay on the sofa watching TV with Lu Yuzhou, his heart sank with despair. He still remembered his own Q&A segment.

The President Lu beside him was a real vinegar pot, prone to tipping over at the slightest provocation.

This clueless Chi finally realized—Lu Yuzhou wasn’t actually jealous; he was just using it as an excuse to be clingy.

And clinginess was his most lethal weapon.

Chi Zhongqiao felt utterly helpless. Young Master Lu’s clingy tactics were far more elaborate than anyone else’s, leaving Chi Zhongqiao utterly defenseless.

Despite his thoughts, as the program’s theme music began, Chi Zhongqiao found himself leaning closer to Lu Yuzhou.

The Q&A segment? We’ll deal with that when it comes up.

He probably wouldn’t learn his lesson in a lifetime. Knowing Lu Yuzhou would throw a tantrum after watching the show, he still insisted on snuggling up, waiting for Lu Yuzhou to come over and be affectionate.

As <Invisible Crime> gained immense popularity, preparations for the domestic Peony Awards were underway.

The Peony Film Festival’s registration deadline passed at the end of October, and the shortlist was announced in early November.

<Campus Prince and Campus Belle> successfully made the cut, with Chi Zhongqiao nominated for Best Newcomer, Most Popular Male Actor, and Best Actor. The film itself received five nominations.

When Du Yusheng shared the news with Chi Zhongqiao, the actor’s reaction was far more subdued than others might have expected.

He merely glanced at the list and said, “Hmm, I see.”

Du Yusheng: “Can you give me a different reaction?”

The Peony Awards! As the most prestigious film awards in China, they carry significant international influence. While not yet on par with the world’s most authoritative film awards, that day is inevitable.

<Campus Prince and Campus Belle> secured numerous nominations for both the film and its cast. Chi Zhongqiao alone received three nominations. Securing even one of these awards would immediately elevate his market value.

Chi Zhongqiao had already established himself as a method actor in the public eye. This award would gild his “acting” with genuine gold! While the award wouldn’t change his actual acting ability, just as clothes enhance a person’s appearance, awards are undeniably crucial for an actor’s career.

Chi Zhongqiao wasn’t oblivious; he simply found it difficult to get worked up about these things. Hearing Du Yusheng’s words, he chuckled, “What kind of reaction do you want, Brother Du? Should I feign overwhelming joy?”

The nominations were already out. As an actor, all he could do now was wait quietly. The outcome had essentially been decided the moment the film’s editing was finalized.

Du Yusheng sighed wearily. “Spare me, spare me, Teacher Chi. Put away your theatrics. I came to tell you about something else. <The Patriot> is in pre-production and casting is about to begin. You need to go take a look.”

“Has the Director been confirmed?” Chi Zhongqiao asked.

“Yes, Director Yu Shuo,” Du Yusheng replied. “We owe this entirely to Director Fu. He personally ran the script over multiple times to persuade Director Yu Shuo. Why do you think Director Fu is putting in so much effort this time?”

Director Yu Shuo was one of the industry’s most esteemed Directors, a veteran with decades of experience. After directing a television series two years ago, he had been taking a break.

However, “break” wasn’t quite accurate. He had actually been studying abroad, a true embodiment of lifelong learning. Directors of his caliber were notoriously picky about scripts. Without Fu Jingshen’s intervention, securing him would have been impossible.

It’s because he’s doing it for his boyfriend, Chi Zhongqiao thought. How could he not put in the effort?

Of course, he couldn’t say that aloud. Instead, he replied, “Perhaps he recognizes talent and couldn’t bear to see such a good script wasted.”

Du Yusheng, suspecting nothing, chimed in, “That’s right. I heard President Lu mention the other day that if the drama is well-produced, it could become a phenomenon. With just this one series, you could directly break into the top tier of domestic stars.”

Thanks to his role as Shang Tang, Chi Zhongqiao had already firmly established himself as a leading actor. He had the works, the audience appeal, and a reputation built on merit rather than hype or smear campaigns, making his position far more stable than that of other young idols. In short, as long as Chi Zhongqiao didn’t self-destruct, he wouldn’t fall from his perch.

Moreover, his fans had matured beyond their initial frenzy. They no longer went wild over every scrap of news; they’d learned to keep their gushing praise behind closed doors, reserved for their own circles.

Look at how long the nomination list had been out without any drama or infighting. Other stars? They would have torn each other apart by now.

In Chi Zhongqiao’s own words, “The little girls have grown up and learned restraint.”

What a living ancestor, Du Yusheng thought. He’s not even that old himself, yet he carries himself with such ancient wisdom, always clutching his milk tea.

Still, as one of the hottest stars right now, even if Chi Zhongqiao tried to stay out of the limelight, other celebrities would inevitably try to ride his coattails. There was no avoiding it. Take that recent hot search about Fei Xi, for example. The key was that the main subject couldn’t get involved; any attempt to clarify would only make things worse.

Chi Zhongqiao couldn’t understand Du Yusheng’s excitement. “Two days ago, <Invisible Crime> broke a viewership rating of 2%, and its popularity remains high. With its steadily rising buzz and critical acclaim, it’s already a guaranteed phenomenon-level drama.”

Compared to last year’s dismal offerings, this year’s dramas were clearly of much higher quality. However, the film industry remained barren, with few noteworthy movies released in recent years.

Chi Zhongqiao’s thoughts drifted to Ge Fangyu.

This straight-laced actor had already won the Peony Award for Best Actor, a prize comparable to the Flying Hope Awards. Yet, despite attending several Flying Hope Awards ceremonies, he had always missed out on the Best Actor trophy, a rather unfortunate streak. But this year’s Flying Hope Awards were just around the corner, and this time, Ge Fangyu wouldn’t be a runner-up. The Best Actor award was practically his.

After all, since the last Flying Hope Awards, <Invisible Crime> was the only phenomenon-level drama, and Ge Fangyu’s performance had been nothing short of brilliant.

Poor Brother Fang, Chi Zhongqiao thought. Unlucky in love and single for so many years, he finally gets to shine in his career.

Du Yusheng laughed in exasperation. “Ancestor, you played the second male lead! At best, you’ll get the Peony Award for Best Supporting Actor. But in <Campus Prince and Campus Belle>, you were the lead! Look at your nomination—Best Actor! Do you realize what this means? You’re not just a runner-up this time; you actually have a chance to win!”

The film industry had been struggling for the past two years, making <Campus Prince and Campus Belle> a standout success. Chi Zhongqiao’s performance was particularly strong, giving him a competitive edge.

Chi Zhongqiao chuckled. “You think the judges will go blind and give me the award?”

Du Yusheng paused, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Saying I acted well is fair enough, but calling it ‘exceptional’ is a stretch,” Chi Zhongqiao explained. “Brother Du, you’re in the industry, but not in acting. I have virtually no chance of winning Best Actor.”

Du Yusheng was speechless. “I was going to give you a pep talk, worried you were getting your hopes up too high. Now it seems we’ve switched roles… I’m the one trying to boost your spirits, while you’re the one staying grounded?”

It felt like he was blowing up a balloon to encourage Chi Zhongqiao, only for the little rascal to pop it with a needle.

Is this even normal?

Du Yusheng’s head throbbed. “Fine, I have nothing more to say. Just know what you’re up against. I’m hanging up now.”

After ending the call, Du Yusheng checked the time and realized it was lunchtime. He ordered takeout online and scrolled through social media while waiting for his food to arrive.

The nominations for the Peony Awards had been announced, causing a significant stir. Every artist with a work released this year, whether nominated or not, was dragged into the spotlight and dissected. If an idol was nominated, their fans erupted in celebration; if not, they went ballistic.

Adding fuel to the fire, some drama-hungry netizens began dissecting every nomination across all categories. From physical appearance to artistic merit to personality, every aspect was scrutinized to “prove” why a particular idol deserved their nomination or why they were snubbed.

Du Yusheng browsed through the online chatter and was relieved to find Chi Zhongqiao’s fans largely absent. Their posts mostly read, “Protect our Qiao, no comparisons!” Good, he thought, they’re finally keeping a low profile.

He returned to Chi Zhongqiao’s official community on a certain platform, only to nearly choke on his own breath. The entire feed was flooded with giveaways, all following the same template: “Celebrating our baby @ChiZhongqiao’s three nominations! Giveaway: XXX, XXX prizes.”

Are you guys filling in the blanks on a half-finished essay question? Just swapping out the XXX?

And I just praised you for being low-key!

The awards haven’t even been officially announced yet!

Thankfully, these girls knew to keep their celebrations behind closed doors, posting only within the community. Otherwise, they’d be roasted again.

Du Yusheng clutched his chest. Like idol, like fans. The company’s useless Manager doesn’t care, and these lunatics are about to launch into orbit.

Oh, dear God.

Du Yusheng’s head and chest throbbed, and he felt like he was about to collapse.

Chi Zhongqiao, however, couldn’t care less about his Manager’s pain. He ordered two meals, grabbed them, and headed to find his boyfriend.

Qi Chuyang was still in Lu Yuzhou’s office when Chi Zhongqiao entered. After greeting Qi Chuyang first—a frequent visitor to the office—Chi Zhongqiao noticed Lu Yuzhou was still busy and casually slipped into the small bedroom.

Qi Chuyang quickly finished his report, and Lu Yuzhou nodded. “Alright, I understand. Go get some food.”

Qi Chuyang sighed in relief and hurried out.

Lu Yuzhou removed his suit jacket, unbuttoned his cuffs, and rolled up his sleeves to reveal a stretch of wrist before knocking on the bedroom door.

“The Old Master called earlier. He wants us to come home for dinner tonight.”

Chi Zhongqiao paused, his hands still holding the chopsticks. He didn’t reply immediately.

When Lu Yuzhou didn’t hear a response, he asked, “What’s wrong, Brother Qiao?”

Chi Zhongqiao sighed. He felt their relationship was on the verge of being exposed.

Lu Yuzhou dried his hands and stepped forward to hug him. “Don’t you want to go, Brother Qiao?” He remembered how much Chi Zhongqiao enjoyed spending time with the Old Master. The two of them had similar mindsets and got along like close Grandfather and Grandson.

“I don’t really want to go…” Chi Zhongqiao said.

Lu Yuzhou leaned down and kissed him lightly.

Chi Zhongqiao struggled to explain, “I feel so guilty… I’m afraid the Old Master will find out about us…”

Lu Yuzhou didn’t understand why Chi Zhongqiao wanted to keep their relationship a secret. If Chi Zhongqiao hadn’t been so adamant, he would have told the Old Master long ago.

“I think even if he knew…” Under Chi Zhongqiao’s watchful gaze, Lu Yuzhou wisely changed his tune, “…it’s unlikely. We’ve been putting on a pretty good act.”

Chi Zhongqiao’s expression was indescribable. “You call that a good act?”

Bringing fruit right up to my mouth, staying in my room for hours, insisting on sitting next to me at meals, even picking food for me…

Lu Yuzhou thought he’d been playing his part perfectly. He leaned down and kissed Chi Zhongqiao again. “Teacher Chi, would you give my performance a passing grade?”

Chi Zhongqiao’s face remained impassive. “Five out of a hundred. Go back and retake the course.”

Lu Yuzhou chuckled softly, his chest vibrating slightly as he pressed his cheek against Chi Zhongqiao’s. Gently squeezing Chi Zhongqiao’s fingers, he asked in a voice both innocent and pitiful, “But I can’t hide it! How can I hide how much I love you?”

Zaki~ English is not my first language, but I’ll try to get the translations as close as possible to the Author’s work. If you see any grammatical errors or mistakes in the translation, please feel free to drop them in the comments section so I can correct them immediately. Thank you and Happy Reading 🙂