I Became the Koi Actor After Entering the Book

**Chapter 73: Glasses**

Translator: Namizaki

**********************

In the silence, Ye Hang leaned closer. “Sis, did you bring snacks?”

Jing Xi pulled a bag of puffed snacks from the front basket of her electric scooter. “Here. It’s 72.8 yuan. Remember to WeChat me the money.”

Ye Hang happily took the bag, rummaging through it. “Thanks, Sis! Diet Coke and potato chips too!”

The others stared in disbelief.

This is a bit too down-to-earth, isn’t it?

Jing Xi removed her gloves and hat, smiling at the group. “Good evening, everyone! I’m Jing Xi. I’ll be filming with you all for the next two weeks.”

Who wouldn’t recognize the famous young starlet?

Chi Zhongqiao and the others exchanged greetings. Jing Xi enthusiastically invited them to her room for a late-night chat, but they politely declined, leaving her looking genuinely disappointed.

Although they didn’t have a late-night chat with Jing Xi, after resting for a while, the group still went to Director Yu Shuo’s room to greet him.

Director Yu was getting older and didn’t have the energy of younger people. After discussing the script for a while, he grew tired, and the group, noticing the time, took their leave.

Chi Zhongqiao, eager to call Lu Yuzhou, slipped away the fastest. As soon as he closed the door, he pulled out his phone and initiated a video call.

He had a short memory, completely forgetting the mood he’d been in when he hung up earlier that day. He just felt like, even though filming hadn’t even started and he’d only been off the plane for a few hours, he already missed Lu Yuzhou.

The video call was answered almost instantly.

Chi Zhongqiao murmured, “You answered so quickly?”

Lu Yuzhou took off his glasses, his fingers gently stroking the frames, his eyes full of amusement. “Of course. I was waiting for you, Qiao-ge.”

Chi Zhongqiao’s gaze dropped, and he saw those thin-rimmed glasses again. He instantly recalled that Lu Yuzhou had been wearing them during last night’s live stream.

There were six or seven pairs of anti-radiation glasses on the rack. Chi Zhongqiao had borrowed this particular pair because they were rarely used. But after he borrowed them, these long-neglected thin-rimmed glasses had suddenly become Lu Yuzhou’s favorite. Even his previously beloved gold-rimmed pair had been relegated to the back of the shelf, only occasionally granted the honor of being worn.

Chi Zhongqiao: “……” His fingers twitched around his phone—he wanted to hang up again!

**********

The next day, the cast and crew rented a farmhouse for a meal. In the afternoon, filming officially began.

After the opening ceremony, Chi Zhongqiao and Ye Hang rushed to get their makeup done—they were scheduled to shoot the first scene.

He Yu, the male lead, wasn’t a Prince or a Duke. At fifteen, he was the Son of Marquis Jingyuan. After his Father’s death in battle, he inherited the title and became known as the Young Marquis. Despite being born into a military family, the Young Marquis had never cared for martial pursuits, instead dedicating himself to studying various “unorthodox” arts.

The drama’s opening scene depicts He Yu at seventeen, while the current outdoor shoot portrays him at just under twenty.

The makeup artist carefully brushed Chi Zhongqiao’s eyebrows. “Mr. Chi, please lift your chin.”

Chi Zhongqiao tilted his head upward, following the artist’s guidance. His complexion was pale as snow, his features sharp and defined, and his lashes, when lowered, revealed only a sliver of his gaze—deep, still, and silent. This stark contrast made the crimson of his lips all the more striking.

He Yu was like a black-and-white ink painting; any hint of color made him exceptionally vivid.

The makeup artist accidentally met Chi Zhongqiao’s eyes in the mirror, froze for a moment, and stammered, “That’s… that’s perfect.”

Chi Zhongqiao smiled at him. “Thank you for your trouble.”

The makeup artist struggled to speak. “Please don’t look at me like that…”

Chi Zhongqiao smiled as he shook his head, stood up to make way for the next person, and left with his script. Ye Hang, already made up, stood nearby rehearsing his lines. Chi Zhongqiao walked over to him.

Director Yu Shuo, who had been overseeing the camera setup, waved them over when he saw Chi Zhongqiao’s makeup was done. “Our first scene isn’t too difficult…”

The first scene was a two-person scene between Chi Zhongqiao and Ye Hang. They climbed the stone steps of a mountain temple, with Ye Hang’s character, Gu Wen, delivering most of the dialogue while He Yu, the male lead, had only a few lines.

Chi Zhongqiao and Ye Hang sat respectfully before Yu Shuo, listening attentively as he explained the scene.

Yu Shuo held up the script. “This scene isn’t complicated. Ye Hang, you have a lot of lines, so make sure you’ve memorized them perfectly and don’t stumble. Zhongqiao, this is mostly about your eyes. He Yu is already twenty at this stage, so you need to strike the right balance between maturity and youthful innocence…”

Chi Zhongqiao nodded.

He had personally witnessed the script evolve into its current form. If Li Xi, as the screenwriter, was the biological father, then Chi Zhongqiao was the godfather. Having witnessed the script’s revisions and the characters’ development firsthand, he possessed a deeper understanding of both the story and its characters.

In Chi Zhongqiao’s eyes, He Yu was like a child he had watched grow up.

He lowered his head, gazing at the name “He Yu” on the script with a tender expression.

Ye Hang, on the other hand, was visibly nervous. <The Patriot> wasn’t just another historical romance drama; beneath its fantastical wuxia elements lay the heart of a serious drama.

Having debuted over five years ago, Ye Hang was known for his roles in idol dramas. While his acting skills were considered above average among young actors, the prospect of tackling a serious drama still intimidated him.

Moreover, his co-star was none other than Chi Zhongqiao, renowned throughout the industry for his exceptional acting prowess.

Ye Hang had worked tirelessly to secure his role in the production, eager to witness Chi Zhongqiao’s acting firsthand. As the least popular but most technically skilled among the Four Young Male Stars, he was genuinely curious about the gap between their abilities.

Though Ye Hang hadn’t seen Chi Zhongqiao’s dramas, the edited clips he’d watched made it clear that the media and fans’ praise of Chi Zhongqiao’s “excellent acting” wasn’t just empty flattery.

For a character as imposing as He Yu, Chi Zhongqiao certainly wouldn’t hold back. Ye Hang had heard other actors mention that Chi Zhongqiao’s acting carried immense weight—what they colloquially called “crushing”. He wondered what it would be like when Chi Zhongqiao truly unleashed his full potential.

Ye Hang took a deep breath. No matter what, this scene shouldn’t be too difficult.

After Yu Shuo finished directing, he went to check the camera angles and set. Ye Hang seized the opportunity to quickly glance at Chi Zhongqiao. The other actor was adjusting his wide-sleeved robes and, sensing Ye Hang’s gaze, turned to smile at him.

Oh, that look… like a concerned Father… Wait, a concerned Father?

Ye Hang felt a vague sense of unease.

At that moment, the assistant director shouted through a megaphone from the bottom of the steps, “Zhongqiao and Ye Hang, get ready!”

Clap!

The clapperboard snapped shut with a crisp, clear sound.

He Yu ascended the steps, a fine rain drifting from the sky. He held an umbrella, his pace steady and unhurried.

Gu Wen, holding his own umbrella, trailed behind him, muttering incessantly, “Prince Heng sent a letter this morning saying Prince Jing has been appointed to investigate the Yunyang Cheating Case. Fu Rong probably won’t be able to protect himself. His Highness asked me to tell you that Prince Jing will undoubtedly use this opportunity to install his own people in Yunyang, which could interfere with our plans. What do you intend to do? Hey, don’t ignore me!”

He Yu held his umbrella aloft, as if he hadn’t heard a word.

Gu Wen grew frantic. “He Mingzhou! He Yu! Marquis! Marquis Jingyuan! Are you even listening?”

He Yu glanced at him, his gaze carrying the weight of ten thousand miles of mountains and rivers, so vast and profound that it left Gu Wen breathless.

Stunned by the look, Gu Wen paused before leaning in to whisper, “I heard His Majesty’s health has been declining since the beginning of the year. With Prince Jing investigating the cheating case and Prince Zhong only assigned a trivial task, do you think His Majesty…”

He Yu suddenly raised his umbrella. “We’re here.”

Gu Wen, still muttering behind him, didn’t stop in time and nearly bumped into He Yu. “What’s ‘here’?”

He Yu lowered his umbrella and slowly lifted his gaze. “Zhong Sheng Temple.”

As soon as Director Yu called “Cut!”, Chi Zhongqiao accepted the coat his assistant handed him and draped it over his shoulders. Though Yun City enjoyed a warm climate, it was still December, and the thin costume offered little protection against the wind.

Seeing Director Yu remain silent for a long moment, Chi Zhongqiao guessed the Director wasn’t satisfied with the previous take.

Ye Hang’s face was so pale even makeup couldn’t conceal it. If he’d already blown the first scene, he’d probably be too embarrassed to face anyone for days. He knew a reshoot was likely; his hesitation had been too obvious.

Ye Hang never imagined he’d fumble such a simple scene.

Chi Zhongqiao walked over and patted his shoulder.

Ye Hang said awkwardly, “Sorry, I spaced out during the scene.”

Chi Zhongqiao replied, “No, it was fine.”

Ye Hang’s brief hesitation could easily be edited out. There was no need for a reshoot. No actor’s performance is flawless; imperfections are inevitable and can be salvaged through editing and post-production.

Moreover, Chi Zhongqiao understood Ye Hang’s nervousness. It was the first scene of the shoot, and Director Yu, a veteran director with exacting standards, was known for his strictness. A first-take NG wasn’t uncommon.

Ye Hang forced a bitter smile. No wonder he’s acting alongside a Best Actor and Best Actress. He’s in a completely different league from us traffic-driven stars.

“Don’t try to comfort me. I was clearly spaced out.”

But as Chi Zhongqiao had predicted, Director Yu frowned for a moment before letting the take pass.

Yu Shuo called Chi Zhongqiao over to discuss the next scene. Before leaving, Chi Zhongqiao patted Ye Hang’s shoulder twice. “Relax.”

Ye Hang had secured this role because his acting skills were up to par, but his nerves were getting the better of him. He’d been tense since the clapperboard snapped, unable to loosen up. Still, they were peers, and Ye Hang had even debuted slightly earlier than Chi Zhongqiao. A brief reminder was fine, but any more would sound condescending.

Ye Hang glanced down at himself. Am I really that tense? He rubbed his stiff shoulders and back, realizing he’d been rigid since filming began.

Lost in thought, he remained frozen for a moment until Jing Xi, clutching her skirt, approached.

Jing Xi was from the same agency as Ye Hang. They saw each other often and were close friends. Seeing his expression, she immediately knew what he was thinking.

Leaning in, she whispered, “It’s normal. Don’t stress.”

Ye Hang forced a bitter smile. “Is this normal? I almost couldn’t keep up with even this steady scene.”

Jing Xi replied, “You’re just not used to his acting style. Actors of this caliber don’t rely on explosive performances; their strength lies in subtlety. You might be able to hold your own during dramatic scenes, but in these seemingly ordinary moments, they have an overwhelming advantage.”

She paused, then added, “Let me be honest, and don’t take it the wrong way. In most of your dramas, the directors are overly polite, settling for adequate facial expressions. This kind of acting is passable but superficial; your performance doesn’t reach your eyes. So when you act alongside someone like him, you get nervous even before trying to keep up. But our characters aren’t complex. Just relax and stay calm.”

Ye Hang sighed deeply. “You hit the nail on the head. I just feel so insecure.”

Jing Xi said, “We were boosted by popularity, unlike those who climbed through skill. Improving ourselves is crucial. While we’re on this set, let’s learn as much as we can.”

**********

<The Patriot> was indeed a major production. Even the few actors standing in front of the small hotel were household names both within and outside the industry.

Starring Chi Zhongqiao, the cast included four A-list actors among the six main roles, including a rising young male lead and a popular young female lead. The remaining supporting roles were filled by talented actors with modest popularity, ensuring the drama would excel in both acting prowess and visual appeal. Even before its premiere, the star-studded cast was already generating buzz, saving the production a fortune in promotional expenses.

From the moment Jing Xi learned she had secured her role, she knew that she and Ye Hang had been brought in to drive viewership, while Chi Zhongqiao would carry the acting weight.

No, Chi Zhongqiao was an anomaly—both the acting powerhouse and the crowd-pleaser.

Whether it was Jing Xi’s role as the Crown Princess or Ye Hang’s portrayal of Gu Wen, their screen time was adequate compared to other characters, but their roles lacked depth and complexity. The characters felt flat, essentially reduced to mere labels.

But so what? You get what you deserve. If you don’t have his acting chops, you just play the cardboard cutout characters and let them draw in the fans. Even cardboard cutouts can attract fans, after all.

Jing Xi gazed up at Chi Zhongqiao’s tall, straight back, a hint of envy still lingering in her eyes. How wonderful it must be—young, talented, and with a limitless future.

**********

During the nine days of filming <The Patriot>, Chi Zhongqiao had full-day shoots almost every day. This grueling schedule drained his energy. After showering and returning to his room each night, he would call Lu Yuzhou, only to fall asleep mid-conversation. His phone would drop to the pillow, leaving him sound asleep.

Lu Yuzhou would quietly listen to his breathing until he finished his own work. Then, he would whisper “Goodnight” and hang up.

More often, however, Chi Zhongqiao would finish night shoots after midnight. He would sit on his bed, replay the voice messages Lu Yuzhou had sent during the day, and only then go to sleep.

This had always been their routine whenever Chi Zhongqiao was busy. Lu Yuzhou was perpetually occupied, dividing his meager free time between Chi Zhongqiao and his Grandfather.

Even so, despite their desperate desire to spend every possible moment together, their actual time together remained painfully short.

On the eleventh day, Du Yusheng finally arrived, having resolved the international copyright issues for the foreign adaptation of <Campus Prince and Campus Belle>.

Perhaps Yan Yiyun had been complaining about the harsh outdoor filming conditions, because Du Yusheng arrived laden with bags of supplies.

Yan Yiyun cheered and rushed forward. “Brother Du! Why did you bring so much food? You shouldn’t have…” She reached out eagerly, only to have her hand slapped away by Du Yusheng.

Yan Yiyun shielded her hand and glared at him. “Brother Du, what are you doing?!”

Du Yusheng’s expression stiffened as he whispered, “Stop shouting. Where’s Brother Qiao?”

Yan Yiyun rolled her eyes and pointed. “He’s over there filming.”

Du Yusheng followed her gaze and saw a strikingly tall figure in the pavilion—undoubtedly Chi Zhongqiao. From their angle, Chi Zhongqiao was facing sideways, seemingly holding something in his hand, while Jiang Hong, playing the swordsman, pointed his sword at the figure.

The two in the pavilion exchanged words, and the swordsman suddenly grew agitated, his sword tip advancing a few inches.

Marquis Jingyuan, clad in a fox-fur cloak, rose to his feet, flicked the sword aside with two fingers, uttered a cold remark, and turned to descend the pavilion steps.

As the camera tracked his movements, Chi Zhongqiao maintained his aloof demeanor until the director called “Cut!” Only then did he relax. Catching sight of Du Yusheng out of the corner of his eye, he paused, asked permission from Director Yu Shuo, and carefully carried his prop costume over.

“Brother Du.” Chi Zhongqiao greeted him.

Still wearing the prop fox fur coat, Chi Zhongqiao’s slender figure appeared even more striking. The coat’s pristine white fur collar framed his neck, accentuating his jade-like complexion and imposing aura.

Having been filming since morning without a break, Chi Zhongqiao remained fully immersed in his character, He Yu. Even as he approached, the character’s presence lingered heavily around him.

For a moment, Yan Yiyun felt as if the Marquis Jingyuan from the script had broken free from his constraints and was standing before her.

Du Yusheng froze for two seconds before awkwardly clearing his throat. “Um… ahem.” He coughed a few times into his fist, then gestured vaguely behind him with a sheepish expression. “Family visit.”

Chi Zhongqiao’s eyes widened in surprise.

Behind Du Yusheng, a discreet black sedan was parked. Chi Zhongqiao immediately recognized it as the rarely used car from his family’s garage.

His heart quickened slightly. Glancing back, he saw the crew had already moved on to the next scene, no one paying him any attention. Turning back, his eyes bright and clear, Chi Zhongqiao nodded to Du Yusheng and strode briskly toward the car.

Yan Yiyun stared blankly at his retreating figure. “Family visit? Who… oh—” She suddenly drew out her voice with a knowing laugh. “I get it now. Is it…?”

Du Yusheng interrupted her. “…Stop loitering around here. Have you memorized your lines? Go back and practice.”

Yan Yiyun suddenly remembered she was still filming and immediately turned to find her script. Du Yusheng remained standing there, silently pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. Why should I feel awkward? he thought. It’s just brothers meeting up. The younger one is visiting his older brother on set. What’s the big deal?

Besides, standing guard here made him feel like he was keeping watch for someone.

Du Yusheng rubbed his face. Damn it, President Lu and Zhongqiao… they’re acting so… gay.

When Du Yusheng realized what he was thinking, he was horrified. Has that unlucky kid Yan Yiyun infected me with her nonsense?

Chi Zhongqiao gently opened the car door. Lu Yuzhou was indeed inside, leaning against the window, seemingly fast asleep. He didn’t even stir when Chi Zhongqiao entered.

Lu Yuzhou was sleeping so soundly that Chi Zhongqiao couldn’t bear to wake him. He settled into the seat beside him, pulled out his phone, and quietly reviewed the script.

No sooner had Chi Zhongqiao sat down than Lu Yuzhou stirred. “Qiao-ge?” His voice was hoarse, likely from just waking up.

Chi Zhongqiao hummed in acknowledgment.

Lu Yuzhou had been in the same position for too long, his body stiffening. After adjusting his posture, he naturally leaned against Chi Zhongqiao, burying his face in Chi Zhongqiao’s chest. He called out again, “Qiao-ge.”

Chi Zhongqiao put down his phone and gently patted Lu Yuzhou’s back. “Did I wake you up?”

Lu Yuzhou’s eyes were half-closed, but the corners of his lips curled upward. “No, I smelled you.”

“I missed you so much,” Lu Yuzhou said, his voice tinged with grievance. “You’ve been too busy.”

Chi Zhongqiao: “Yuzhou, speak properly.” Why are you acting like a little wife?

Lu Yuzhou chuckled softly. “You need to make it up to me.” He sat up, subtly maneuvering Chi Zhongqiao into the corner of the back seat. “How will Qiao Gege compensate me?”

Chi Zhongqiao, his mouth covered, managed to squeeze out four words: “…My clothes!”

You’re already demanding compensation!

Ten minutes later, Chi Zhongqiao scrambled out of the car, awkwardly tugging at his disheveled clothes. He looked up and met Du Yusheng’s blank stare.

Du Yusheng’s face was utterly blank. “……”

The brotherly words he’d spoken just minutes earlier seemed to slap him across the face, the sound echoing loudly in the air.

Chi Zhongqiao: “……”

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 🙂