LOI Chapter 33 — Surviving in the Entertainment Industry

Yan Zhi’s abdomen was coated with Rong Ke’s cum, like a thick, viscous film congealing on rice porridge.

After showering in the bathroom, Yan Zhi returned to find Rong Ke lying motionless on the bed, resembling a corpse.

Putting himself in Rong Ke’s shoes, Yan Zhi imagined he, too, might feel suicidal if he had performed similarly.

He lifted the covers to join him and whispered, “Asleep?”

Rong Ke, hands folded over his stomach and eyes closed, barely moved his lips, “Dead.”

Yan Zhi chuckled, settling beside Rong Ke and encircling his waist. “You’re quite potent.”

Having entered a post-coital state of clarity, Rong Ke remained unmoved by Yan Zhi’s words, whether flirtatious or mocking.

“Yan Zhi,” Rong Ke opened his eyes and said calmly, “Do you really believe we’re compatible?”

“After thinking about it, I don’t think we are.”

Yan Zhi withdrew his hand from Rong Ke, tucking it behind his head. “It was just once.”

“I don’t mind being your temporary fix,” Rong Ke turned to face Yan Zhi. “You should keep looking for someone more suitable.”

Yan Zhi fell silent before eventually responding with a soft “Alright.”

He unhurriedly switched off the bedside lamp. “I’m in no rush.”

–

The final episode of “Patchwork Family” was dominated by action sequences, featuring the main cast battling Shaya in turns, with Lao Da¹ and Lao San’s powers reaching their true awakening.

Pushed to the brink in the first half, Lao San would unlock latent abilities, conjuring an all-consuming fire tornado. Lao Da would then use telekinesis to force Shaya into the vortex, where the rate of damage would surpass his regeneration, ultimately obliterating him.

Most of the season’s budget was allocated to this finale. Despite relying heavily on special effects, Director Luo Bi still demanded impeccable performances from the actors.

Rong Ke wrapped his scenes a day early and received a bouquet and a red envelope personally from Luo Bi. However, he did not leave the crew immediately. Instead, he stayed until the following day to participate in the wrap party with the rest of the crew.

The celebration was held outside the usual filming studio, where the staff had spent half the night setting up a small stage.

A cordoned area lay before the stage. When they arrived, a crowd of fans had already gathered beyond the barriers.

“Zhou Lin!”

“Zhou Lin, look here!”

“We love you, Zhou Lin!”

Rong Ke turned with Zhou Lin to see numerous fans brandishing Zhou Lin’s merchandise and holding up phones to capture the moment.

Rong Ke couldn’t help but sigh, “You have so many fans.”

Zhou Lin waved to his supporters, slightly tilting his chin. “Look over there.”

Following Zhou Lin’s gaze, Rong Ke realized the commotion on the other side was even greater.

“Liu Qing, baby! You look stunning today!”

“Qingqing! Qingqing! I love your portrayal of Lao San!”

Unlike Zhou Lin’s distant wave, Liu Qing approached the barrier, signing autographs and taking photos, inciting a frenzy of screams.

Xin Ran checked the time, muttering to Rong Ke, “Does he think this is his personal fan meeting?”

Rong Ke wondered, “How does he have so many fans?”

“His studio arranged it,” Zhou Lin said, crossing his arms. “Since you don’t have a studio, there’s barely anyone here to support you. Don’t you think it’s time to set one up?”

“That’s right, Ke-zi,” Xin Ran added. “You have over 3 million Weibo followers, but no team to manage it.”

Truthfully, Rong Ke’s daily routine of commuting from the hotel—or occasionally Yan Zhi’s place—to the set still felt like a regular job. Apart from being recognized more often, not much had changed.

Although Zhou Lin and Xin Ran often joked about his fame, Rong Ke himself didn’t feel it tangibly.

The initial buzz from official channels had faded. Now, online discussions mostly revolved around his character, Shaya. But fantasy dramas had a limited audience. Rong Ke sensed increased recognition but wasn’t universally known like A-list actors.

“We’ll see about that later,” Rong Ke said.

Liu Qing didn’t linger with fans long. After making his presence felt, he returned to the stage front.

The host delivered opening remarks, thanking everyone for their hard work. Then the director and actors took turns sharing their experiences and insights.

Rong Ke also spoke briefly when his turn came.

“The ‘Patchwork Family’ crew is the longest I’ve worked with. These three months flew by, and I’m truly reluctant to leave. I would like to thank Director Luo for this opportunity and to everyone for their hard work. Thank you.”

Descending from the stage, Rong Ke, like others, had to follow the barrier back to the center.

However, as he passed a section, he suddenly heard someone calling his name.

“Rong Ke.”

He paused, turning towards the voice. It came from Liu Qing’s fan territory.

“You’re so ugly,” the person blurted, as if fearing Rong Ke might leave. “How dare you be an actor looking like that? Your acting is unbearable. You’re competing with Liu Qing for the position? Do you really think you can?”

The person held up a phone, clearly recording Rong Ke’s reaction.

If Rong Ke confronted them, it would likely spark heated discussions on social media that day.

Rong Ke remained unfazed, his expression unchanged as he walked straight back to the actors’ area, ignoring the provocation.

He had barely found a less crowded spot when Liu Qing’s voice sounded beside him. “You’ll have to leave even if you don’t want to.”

Rong Ke glanced at Liu Qing indifferently, offering no response.

“Director Luo is already coordinating filming schedules for the second season with us main actors. Too bad you’re out of the picture.”

“Patchwork Family” was gaining momentum on streaming platforms, garnering praise and benefiting all lead actors to some extent.

As far as Rong Ke knew, Zhou Lin had received invitations from renowned directors, Xin Ran had secured a high-end cosmetics endorsement, and Liu Qing’s recent opportunities were quite promising, potentially surpassing Jiang Si.

As for Rong Ke, his inbox was flooded with various work offers, but as Liu Qing pointed out, he indeed had no part in the second season of “Patchwork Family.”

“It’s fine,” Rong Ke said. “I’ve had my fill of it.”

“Heh, keep pretending,” Liu Qing sneered. “Who was it on stage just now, hinting to the director about wanting to be resurrected?”

Rong Ke: “…”

His earlier comment about being “reluctant to leave” was merely a passing thought. He hadn’t expected Liu Qing to interpret it that way.

“Sometimes I really pity you,” Rong Ke said.

Liu Qing frowned, “I don’t need your pity.”

“In such a beautiful world, you only see the dirty side,” Rong Ke shook his head. “Sure enough, a tainted person sees everything as tainted.”

“You-!” Liu Qing was about to lash out but barely restrained himself. “Just keep being arrogant. Let’s see how far you can go.”

At the end of the ceremony, everyone gathered on stage for a group photo.

Zhou Lin, as the lead actor, stood in the center with the director. Rong Ke was originally next to Zhou Lin, but after some shuffling, Liu Qing somehow wedged himself between them, pushing Rong Ke to the side.

Watching Liu Qing chat animatedly with Zhou Lin, feigning ignorance of displacing Rong Ke, Rong Ke silently curled his lip and chose to stand with Xin Ran on the other side.

After the group photo, everyone dispersed.

Rong Ke took individual photos with familiar crew members and was about to leave when Zhou Lin suddenly called out to him.

“Don’t go yet,” Zhou Lin put his arm around Rong Ke’s shoulders, leading him to the backdrop. “Let’s take a photo together.”

Zhou Lin’s assistant took a picture of the two. After reviewing it, Zhou Lin asked Rong Ke, “How’s this photo?”

In the picture, both held bouquets, with Zhou Lin’s arm around Rong Ke’s shoulder, looking quite close.

“It’s good,” Rong Ke said.

“Okay, I’ll post this on Weibo later. Don’t be alarmed if CP fans start dancing in front of you.”

Rong Ke was taken aback. “CP fans?”

“Fans of the Shaya and Lao Da pairing,” Zhou Lin’s assistant chimed in. “Didn’t you know?”

Rong Ke really didn’t pay attention. He checked Weibo and was surprised to find not only “Shaya x Lao Da” but also “Shaya x Lao San” pairings—which made him somewhat queasy. Including Rong Yan Forever, all CPs shared one feature—Rong Ke was always the dominant partner.

He suddenly felt much better.

“When did our CP super topic start?” Rong Ke asked.

If he remembered correctly, the streaming platform had only aired four episodes, before Shaya and Lao Da’s backstory was revealed.

“The day you snuck out of the hotel,” Zhou Lin said. “You wore my baseball cap, remember? Someone photographed you.”

Rong Ke: “…” How terrifying.

“That’s why I said,” Zhou Lin patted Rong Ke’s shoulder, “you need to be more careful from now on.”

When he was with Jiang Si, Rong Ke knew the industry was tough, but only recently did he truly comprehend it.

Every minor detail could be magnified, leading to harmless speculation or outright malice, like the insults from Liu Qing’s fans.

Thinking a simple photo wouldn’t be over-interpreted, Rong Ke was surprised when Zhou Lin’s nine-grid post featured eight group photos and one of just them two.

CP fans were ecstatic, and Zhou Lin’s team seemed to be deliberately pushing it. Rong Ke watched in disbelief as their “wedding photo” trended on the entertainment hot search.

…It was truly impossible to guard against.

On the way back, while waiting at a red light, Rong Ke messaged Zhou Lin.

[Rong Ke: Isn’t the wedding photo a bit much, Xiongdi²?]
[Zhou Lin: Hahaha]
[Zhou Lin: The CP fans did it]
[Zhou Lin: I did warn you]

Well, at least Zhou Lin had the decency to give him a heads-up.

Rong Ke put down his phone to focus on the traffic light, but suddenly a notification popped up—someone he specially followed had posted on Weibo.

His heart skipped a beat. Could it be…?

He quickly checked Weibo to find Yan Zhi had posted nine photos of him and Rong Ke from their Paris fashion show trip.

The caption was characteristically concise: Clearing inventory.

Rong Ke: “…”

CP fans in the comments were ecstatic.

[These are real wedding photos! Who takes just one wedding photo?]
[Is the wife jealous? Am I reading this right?]
[Rong Yan Forever is the official pairing! Others stay away]

They were all giving him a headache.

Just then, his phone chimed with a WeChat message from Zhou Lin.

[Zhou Lin: Your guy is breaking the rules]
[Zhou Lin: We all do this on the down-low]
[Zhou Lin: When does the actual person get involved?]
[Zhou Lin: He could at least have his studio post the photos]

Perhaps Zhou Lin was right—the normal procedure in the entertainment industry would be to have the studio post such photos, but the problem was—

Was Yan Zhi a normal person?

[Rong Ke: You’ll get used to it]
[Zhou Lin: Is your guy the only living person left in the entertainment industry?]
[Zhou Lin: You’re not going to do anything about this?]

Rong Ke wondered how he could possibly control it.

The only option was to indulge him.