I Became the Koi Actor After Entering the Book

**Chapter 68: The Unexpected Charm of Contrast**

Translator: Namizaki

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Lu Zhuo held himself in high regard. It wasn’t that he lacked talent, but rather that his abilities fell short of his inflated self-image.

Lu Yuzhou, on the other hand, possessed genuine talent, but his upbringing had fostered an intense and rigid personality. The cold, unyielding aspects of his character had been amplified by his family environment.

The Old Master often felt guilty. He had raised Lu Yuzhou himself and, instead of softening his temperament, had inadvertently reinforced his stubbornness and extremism.

In his younger days, the Old Master had been inflexible and unsentimental. The paternal affection Lu Yuzhou received was like a suit of armor—hard and unyielding. Naturally, Lu Yuzhou reciprocated in kind.

When did things begin to change?

The first shift likely occurred after the college entrance exams. Lu Yuzhou grew noticeably warmer, showing a newfound concern for others. This sudden transformation immediately caught the Old Master’s attention.

The second change was gradual and subtle, making it difficult to pinpoint its timing.

The third came this summer. It was as if a bristling cat had suddenly been smoothed down. The Old Master struggled to understand the cause of this transformation.

Then, one afternoon, when Chi Zhongqiao and Lu Yuzhou returned for lunch, Chi Zhongqiao, exhausted from a broadcast, dozed off in a rattan chair in the garden. Flower branches draped over the fence, framing Chi Zhongqiao’s beautiful face. Lu Yuzhou, with a book resting on his lap, gently brushed aside the stray branches.

The Old Master stood at the second-floor window, holding his teacup, watching for a long time.

He watched Lu Yuzhou reopen his book, yet not turn a single page.

He watched Chi Zhongqiao wake up, groggily pressing against Lu Yuzhou’s hand.

Even if the Old Master were blind, he would sense something was amiss. Since he wasn’t, it was even more glaring. Yuzhou was being far too clingy. He had never seen Yuzhou act this way with anyone before. Whenever Zhongqiao was around, Yuzhou’s gaze never strayed from him.

What kind of brothers behaved like this?

None.

After pondering all night, the Old Master finally understood: They were in love!

His feelings were complicated. Same-sex marriage had only been legalized a few years prior, and the older generation still struggled to accept it. The Old Master had initially felt awkward and uncomfortable—the Chi Family had entrusted Zhongqiao to his care, only for that little rascal Yuzhou to “take care” of him by bringing him home?! How could he ever face Zhongqiao’s Grandparents now?

After several days of self-persuasion, the Old Master noticed the hostility in Lu Yuzhou’s eyes gradually fading, replaced by the same unwavering calm that characterized Chi Zhongqiao. Meanwhile, Zhongqiao seemed noticeably more at ease in the Lu household than before.

There’s nothing wrong with this, the Old Master suddenly realized. It’s actually quite good. They’re both good kids, their personalities complement each other, and Zhongqiao’s steadiness keeps Yuzhou in check. Moreover, after observing them for so long, he could see that Yuzhou was surprisingly caring. Zhongqiao even looked healthier and more vibrant than before.

As time passed, the Old Master grew more comfortable with the situation, even feeling a smug satisfaction that his Grandson Lu Yuzhou hadn’t been raised in vain—he had even brought him back a partner.

The Chi Family? What Chi Family? He knew nothing about them.

In early November, more than half of the episodes of <Invisible Crime> had aired, with the series expected to conclude in mid-to-late November.

Today, the official <Invisible Crime> account released another behind-the-scenes clip as usual.

The official account had an endless supply of behind-the-scenes footage and short videos, but today’s clip was different, even its title exuding an unusual vibe: [ Shocking! What is this disheveled heartthrob up to?! ]

When Chi Zhongqiao stumbled upon the clip, his mind flooded with question marks. Clicking to watch, he realized it was footage from the scene where Shang Tang gets injured. The crew member responsible for capturing behind-the-scenes material had been circling around him. Chi Zhongqiao had to maintain his “disheveled” look for several consecutive scenes, unable to change clothes in between, so he kept dodging the camera.

As a result, the clip featured the crew member chasing after Chi Zhongqiao, phone in hand, shouting, “Brother Qiao, don’t run! I’ll only film for a minute!”

Clutching his coat, Chi Zhongqiao darted through the crowd, protesting, “No! Go film Sister Qing! Wait, Brother Fang is changing—go film him instead!”

The clip was short, less than a minute long. By the time Chi Zhongqiao’s expression had settled into a blank stare, the video had already begun looping. This time, he silently turned on the comments.

From the moment the video started, the screen was flooded with comments. “High-energy throughout!” completely obscured Chi Zhongqiao in the frame.

Chi Zhongqiao silently closed the video. He didn’t need to watch it to know the screen would soon be filled with “dazed and confused” comments.

But that wasn’t the case at all. During the behind-the-scenes filming, he hadn’t noticed that his shirt was half-unbuttoned, and the staff had captured the perfect shot. As a result, the latter half of the video was dominated by comments about “licking the screen.”

Since his debut, Chi Zhongqiao had rarely shown much skin on camera, and he usually dressed conservatively, even preferring long sleeves in summer. For his fans, this was the first time they’d seen him looking so disheveled.

And…

“He actually had abs! Not just a toned stomach, but real abs! Qiao Bao’s physique is seriously amazing!”

Girlfriend fans screamed: “So handsome! So alpha! I want to marry him!”

“Mommy” fans squealed: “My son is so cute!”

CP fans declared: “My Qiao is definitely the top! Confirmed!”

Other fans: “???”

At 8 PM sharp, <Invisible Crime> broadcast on time.

Chi Zhongqiao settled into his usual spot on the sofa to watch TV. His fans were still buzzing from seeing his abs earlier, but he wondered if they’d be crying by the end of the final episode—the climax featured Shang Tang personally strangling the witness.

Unaware of the shocking twist awaiting them, fans eagerly settled in front of their TVs, anticipating the latest episode of <Invisible Crime>.

As the series progressed, the plot grew increasingly gripping. Some young viewers, too impatient to wait for online updates, even watched with their parents on TV, then rewatched the episode on streaming sites after midnight.

The first two and a half episodes had been tightly paced. The police had already gathered crucial clues, needing only a key witness to connect them all. This witness, Hu Wei, was no saint himself—he had once willingly collaborated with Shang Tang for profit, his crimes numerous enough to fill a sheet of paper. Though he had initially agreed to testify as an informant, he panicked at the last moment, terrified of a life spent in endless hiding, and fled.

This time, Shang Tang would not let him escape.

Hu Wei’s nerves were stretched to the breaking point as he fled, seeing danger in every shadow. His extreme paranoia ultimately led him straight into Shang Tang’s trap.

After leaving his “former brother’s” house, Hu Wei had initially planned to follow his brother’s advice and board the cross-border train. But as he was about to board, he grew suspicious, fearing his brother might betray him. He doubled back, retracing his steps.

This remote road had no surveillance cameras. Hu Wei kept a wary eye on his surroundings as he hurried along. Suddenly, he sensed something approaching from behind. Before he could turn around, a clean cloth was pressed over his mouth and nose. Hu Wei inhaled involuntarily and immediately lost consciousness.

When he awoke, he was bound in a basement. A towering man was searching him for weapons.

“Shang Tang?!” Hu Wei exclaimed.

Shang Tang straightened up, tossed the small knife he’d found aside, and smiled. “Good evening.”

Hu Wei was terrified. Trembling violently, he tried to distract Shang Tang while attempting to loosen his bonds. “Shang Tang, what’s the meaning of this? I’ve never done anything to wrong you…”

Shang Tang picked up a length of network cable from the table and slowly wrapped it around his fingers, as if testing its tensile strength.

Hu Wei watched the cable leave a thin red mark on Shang Tang’s skin, his heart pounding in terror. “Shang Tang!”

Shang Tang chuckled softly. “Don’t panic. I don’t intend to kill you. I just want to ask about something you know.”

Hu Wei breathed a sigh of relief. He knew what Shang Tang wanted and that he couldn’t possibly deceive him. He reluctantly revealed the clues he’d hidden, but refused to disclose their exact location.

“If you let me go, I’ll…”

The rest of his words were cut off by a length of network cable. Hu Wei struggled violently. A trained martial artist, his strength was astonishing when fighting for his life. He actually managed to shove Shang Tang aside, shattering the chair binding him into pieces.

Shang Tang coughed, his chest aching. He had nearly died in a deliberately staged car accident and still hadn’t fully recovered.

Hu Wei swiftly untied the remaining ropes and pulled a fruit knife from his inner pocket.

Shang Tang wasn’t fully recovered, and Hu Wei had been starving for two days. After a brief struggle, Shang Tang, desperate to save time, deliberately took a knife wound. The metallic tang of blood filled the basement as he pinned Hu Wei down and tightened the network cable around his neck…

The screen went black. When it lit up again, Shang Tang emerged from the bathroom, his shirt completely unbuttoned, a makeshift bandage covering his wound. He calmly dressed, left the villa, and went to pick up Shang Lin.

As Shang Lin threw himself into Shang Tang’s arms, Shang Tang knelt before him, his hand instinctively reaching out to touch Shang Lin’s face. But halfway there, he clenched his fist, his expression unchanging. “Let’s go home,” he said evenly.

As the car drove away, the end credits began to roll.

Even after the episode ended, some viewers remained drenched in cold sweat, unable to shake off the oppressive atmosphere. Shang Tang’s portrayal was so chillingly realistic that many viewers felt goosebumps rising across their skin, terrified.

Yet his final expression toward Shang Lin was so tender, creating a stark contrast that evoked a profound sense of despair. When Shang Lin grows up and learns of Shang Tang’s crimes, how will this little girl ever face the Father she loves most?

This episode lacked grand philosophical themes or thought-provoking plot twists, but it carried an inexplicable weight, leaving many viewers breathless. Even fans who adored Shang Tang fell silent, finally realizing that <Invisible Crime> was neither a lighthearted idol drama nor a melodramatic spectacle for shock value. It was a serious drama rooted in reality.

Lu Yuzhou lowered his head and asked Chi Zhongqiao, “Brother Qiao, aren’t you worried about losing fans?”

After all, this episode was particularly dark, and many viewers still tend to conflate actors with their characters.

Chi Zhongqiao, half-asleep, could barely keep his eyes open. “It’s fine. The official account will release behind-the-scenes footage. Remember that short video I filmed yesterday? They’ll post it tonight.”

Relieved, Lu Yuzhou kissed his cheek. “Don’t push yourself. Go take a shower.”

Chi Zhongqiao yawned and got up to shower, while Lu Yuzhou pulled out his phone and checked the official account.

The official account for <Invisible Crime> was punctual as ever. Immediately after the episode aired, they released a behind-the-scenes clip. The video opened with a staff member saying, “Brother Qiao’s acting is impeccable. Seeing him mess up is incredibly rare, making this footage truly precious.”

Fans eagerly watched as the clip showed an outtake from the final episode. The scene featured a struggle between Chi Zhongqiao and the actor playing Hu Wei, and up to that point, the footage closely matched the broadcast version.

However, just seconds into the intense, brutal scene, Hu Wei’s actor accidentally poked Chi Zhongqiao’s ticklish spot. The entire crew watched in disbelief as Chi Zhongqiao, who never broke character, suddenly doubled over, bursting into laughter mid-take.

Hu Wei’s actor, thinking he had flubbed his lines, looked bewildered. “Did I mess up my lines?”

Chi Zhongqiao, still laughing, apologized, “Sorry… it’s just so ticklish…”

The dignified, even terrifying Shang Tang suddenly crumbled, instantly breaking the audience’s immersion. The laughter seemed contagious, as viewers found themselves inexplicably laughing along with him.

The shadow cast by Shang Tang vanished, replaced by a clearer image of the actor Chi Zhongqiao. Many casual viewers were so charmed by this unexpected display of “gap moe” that they became fans on the spot.

At the end of the clip, the camera jerked sideways, revealing Director Fu Jingshen. He had suddenly called for another retake, his face turning green with frustration.

As everyone roared with laughter, a comment flashed across the screen: “From dominant in one second to submissive the next, hahaha! Qiaoqiao’s laugh is so cute and soft!”

Lu Yuzhou, who had finished watching the video, raised an eyebrow. He drinks milk every day. How could he not be soft?

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 🙂