I Became the Koi Actor After Entering the Book

**Chapter 96: Celebrating the New Year**

Translator: Namizaki

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The bedroom was dark, with only a sliver of moonlight peeking through the curtains. Lu Yuzhou opened his eyes as his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He gently released his arm from around Chi Zhongqiao, picked up the vibrating phone, and stepped out of the room.

The number was unfamiliar.

Lu Yuzhou buttoned his pajamas and answered in a low voice, “Hello.”

A middle-aged woman’s anxious voice came through the line: “Is this President Lu?”

Since taking over the Lu Group, this was the first time Lu Yuzhou had heard someone call him “President Lu.” He paused briefly, then replied, “Yes, this is he. Who’s calling?”

“I’m Zhongqiao’s Mother. Is Qiaoqiao with you?”

Lu Yuzhou fell silent.

He instinctively glanced back at the bedroom. Qiao Gege’s Mother… His mind suddenly went blank, and he stammered, “Auntie, hello. This is Lu Yuzhou. Brother Qiao… he’s asleep.”

They had completely forgotten to explain things to the Chi Family!

Brother Qiao’s father, as a government official, wasn’t particularly open-minded. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have cut off contact with Brother Qiao for years after he insisted on attending acting school. How would he react to suddenly learning that Brother Qiao and Lu Yuzhou were…

Lu Yuzhou silently unbuttoned two buttons, feeling the air grow thin.

A deathly silence hung on the other end of the line for two seconds, followed by a tearful voice: “You scared me to death! You scared me to death… Lao Chi, our Qiaoqiao is safe…”

Lu Yuzhou immediately understood. He strode over to the sofa, picked up the phone Chi Zhongqiao had tossed aside, and sure enough, there were dozens of missed calls.

During their entanglement, they had stumbled into the bedroom. Chi Zhongqiao hadn’t even noticed which phone he’d grabbed—it turned out to be his work phone, while his personal phone lay forgotten in the living room. With the bedroom door closed, they wouldn’t have heard the phone ringing even if it had been screaming.

While Mother Chi sobbed, Lu Yuzhou drafted over a dozen versions of explanations, filtering them down to one that would minimize the impact on Chi Zhongqiao, bracing himself for the Chi Family’s inevitable interrogation.

After a few minutes, Mother Chi’s sobs gradually subsided, and a middle-aged man’s voice took over on the other end of the line.

It was Brother Qiao’s father.

Lu Yuzhou recognized the voice from previous calls. He spoke softly, “Uncle, you must have seen the news online…”

Father Chi interrupted him, his voice weary. “I understand… Is Zhongqiao alright? We’ve been trying to call him all day, but we can’t get through. His mother and I were worried… Calling you so late, did we disturb you? Is Zhongqiao in a lot of pain?”

Lu Yuzhou thought of the carefree person at home and, against his conscience, replied, “Yes.”

Father Chi continued, “Zhongqiao seems easygoing, but he’s always been fiercely competitive. He hates it when people dismiss his efforts. All those comments online… they must be hurting him deeply.”

“I understand,” Lu Yuzhou said.

“It’s our fault for not being more attentive,” Father Chi admitted. “We didn’t even know about his orientation. We failed as parents. But his Mother and I don’t object to you two being together. We see how good you are to him. We understand.”

To others, Zhongqiao’s success seemed to stem from his own hard work and talent. But as his parents, they had glimpsed the Lu Group’s influence behind several directors. While Zhongqiao’s talent was undeniable, the Lu Group’s support had been crucial. Without the Lu Group, where would he have gotten such exceptional resources? And who do you think arranged for those resources to fall into Zhongqiao’s hands?

Father Chi’s voice was slightly hoarse. “When he wakes up, tell him… tell him I was never really that angry about his insistence on pursuing acting. He’s always been our pride. Tell him I’m sorry, and that he should focus on his filming without worry. We’ll always support him.”

He repeated “always” three times, his words becoming almost incoherent. Unable to continue, he hastily added, “…Have him call us when he wakes up. Try to come home sometime this year… Alright, that’s all. I’ll hang up now.”

After the call ended, Lu Yuzhou stood in the living room for a moment, then lowered his head and smiled faintly.

A small lamp still glowed in the living room, its soft light chasing away the darkness without being harsh. Lu Yuzhou walked over and switched it off before returning to the bedroom.

Chi Zhongqiao slept soundly until 5:30 AM, when he suddenly jolted awake. He glanced at Lu Yuzhou, still asleep beside him, then reached for his phone on the nightstand. His heart sank—he had brought his work phone into the bedroom last night!

His parents only had his personal number. They must have been frantic last night when they saw the news online and couldn’t reach him.

How could he have forgotten something so important?

Chi Zhongqiao carefully slipped out of bed. As soon as his foot touched the floor, an arm wrapped around his waist.

“Qiao-ge, why are you up so early?” Lu Yuzhou’s voice was husky as he wrapped his other arm around Chi Zhongqiao, affectionately clasping his hand.

Chi Zhongqiao twisted slightly, his voice urgent. “I forgot to call my parents!”

In his previous life, he had no family, having lived alone for over twenty years. The concept of family was entirely foreign to him. Even after transmigrating into this novel, he struggled to adapt, often forgetting in crucial moments that he now had parents and a younger brother.

Since he had become someone else’s son, he knew he had to fulfill his responsibilities and obligations, no matter what.

Lu Yuzhou was speechless.

He sat up, a mix of amusement and exasperation on his face, the thin blanket sliding off his shoulders. He leaned down to kiss the side of Chi Zhongqiao’s neck, soothing him. “Auntie and Uncle called last night. I answered.”

Chi Zhongqiao’s tense body relaxed, and he leaned back against Lu Yuzhou. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Uncle told me not to,” Lu Yuzhou replied, tightening his embrace. “He said to tell you when you woke up—”

Chi Zhongqiao stared intently at him.

Lu Yuzhou continued, “You’re their pride and joy.”

He cupped Chi Zhongqiao’s face, pressed a kiss to his lips, and murmured, “And you’re my light.”

***

Du Yusheng had been worried that Chi Zhongqiao’s coming out might cost him the Best Actor award at the Peony Awards. Chi Zhongqiao’s fans shared this concern, gathering in various online groups to discuss the matter.

Chi Zhongqiao had several fan groups, each with over two thousand members. It’s unclear who leaked these discussions to the outside world, but the issue quickly gained widespread attention.

Equally anxious were the drama fans. Their loyalty wasn’t to a single actor, but to the entire series, and they were grateful to everyone involved in its production. They desperately wanted <The Patriot> to sweep all the awards and earn massive profits, hoping this would pave the way for even better dramas in the future.

As the debate over whether Chi Zhongqiao’s coming out would cost him the Best Actor award intensified, the Peony Awards official account finally issued a statement:

[The Peony Awards, founded on the principles of fairness, impartiality, and transparency, has been held for twenty-nine consecutive years. Moving forward, the awards will continue to uphold these core values. Judges must not allow personal biases or outdated prejudices to influence their evaluations. The Peony Awards’ ethos evolves in tandem with the progress of the Chinese people. The awarding of prizes will not be affected by factors such as an actor’s background, sexual orientation, or any other irrelevant considerations!]

[We wish the 30th Peony Awards a successful event!]

As soon as the announcement was released, likes and shares surged, and the official account gained a significant number of new followers.

As the weather gradually turned colder, the finale of <The Patriot> finally aired. In its final minutes, viewership briefly surpassed 3%, with an estimated average rating of 2.6%, surpassing <Invisible Crimes> and achieving a recent ratings miracle. Online views exceeded 10 billion and continued to climb.

It was undeniable that historical dramas possessed an unparalleled allure.

The momentum was even more staggering than Lu Yuzhou had anticipated. The data surged to the point where even the lead actors began to suspect whether every household had purchased inflated metrics. However, the genuine buzz generated by the television broadcast reassured them.

At the end of the year, the Peony Awards announced its nominations. <The Patriot>’s cast and crew appeared with alarming frequency, and as expected, Chi Zhongqiao was nominated for Best Actor.

Fans of the drama and Chi Zhongqiao alike went wild. The comment section below the announcement was practically flooded by <The Patriot> fans.

“Qiaoqiao, go get ’em! Best Actor! Best Actor! Best Actor!!”

“Go, <The Patriot>! Go, go, go!”

“I love the entire cast of <The Patriot>! Everyone, give it your all!”

In mid-February, Chi Zhongqiao brought Lu Yuzhou back to the Chi family home for the New Year. The family was initially a bit awkward around this “daughter-in-law,” but Lu Yuzhou quickly won them over with his easygoing charm, easing the tension.

Mother Chi, a typical mother-in-law, found Lu Yuzhou more pleasing with each passing glance. Her approval reached its peak when he joined her in the kitchen, proving himself a master of stir-frying, braising, and deep-frying.

Watching Chi Zhongqiao clumsily washing vegetables, Mother Chi felt a pang of sympathy. Aiyo, thank goodness Lao Chi and I didn’t oppose this match. Who else would want this hapless Zhongqiao? Someone as accomplished yet blind as President Lu is truly rare.

After finishing the vegetables, Chi Zhongqiao eagerly took the knife from Mother Chi, sized up the beef, and turned to Lu Yuzhou. “How should I cut it?”

Driven by guilt toward his parents, Chi Zhongqiao insisted on doing everything himself during this visit. However, having been pampered at home, where maids handled cleaning and Lu Yuzhou managed the kitchen, his only real contributions were carrying groceries during the New Year shopping and acting as a lightning rod for Chi Tingyu during family visits.

Oh, of course he was good-looking.

For relatives you only saw once a year, for half a day at a time, being good-looking was enough.

Lu Yuzhou said, “Cut it into strips, Brother Qiao. Don’t cut the onions; I’ll handle those later.”

Mother Chi couldn’t stand it any longer. “Stop coddling him. Let him do it. Go play chess with Lao Chi.”

Chi Zhongqiao, who had no status in the family, was speechless.

He glanced at the knife, finding the scene eerily familiar—wasn’t this just a mirror image of his time at the Lu family’s house? Except there, Yuzhou was the one being looked down on, while here, he was the one being scorned.

“What are you daydreaming about?” Mother Chi asked. “How can you lose focus while cutting vegetables?”

Chi Zhongqiao continued slicing the beef into strips. “I’m just having a moment of reflection.”

Mother Chi: “???”

Chi Zhongqiao said, “Life, you know, is actually quite fair.”

Mother Chi: “Just cut your beef.”

*****

In March, <The Patriot> signed contracts to “export” overseas, including three Asian countries and two European ones. The earliest broadcasts were scheduled for May.

*****

In April, the Peony Awards ceremony was held.

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 🙂