C139

Shi Fei had worried that they wouldn’t be able to finish all the dishes they ordered.

He clearly underestimated the three of them — it was as if they hadn’t had hotpot in years. They tore into the food like starving wolves.

They didn’t just finish everything they’d ordered; they even added more later. Shi Fei himself barely ate anything.

When it came time to pay, the boss gave him a 10% discount and even rounded down the bill, just because Shi Fei had signed an autograph. Even so, Shi Fei still ended up paying 1,200 yuan.

Right then and there, he made a firm decision — he was never treating those three to a meal again.

Xu Zeming’s car was already waiting at the door. The moment he saw Shi Fei, who was dressed low-key, he immediately stepped forward to open the door for him.

After waving goodbye to the other three, Shi Fei got into the car and left.

Rubbing his full stomach, Cao An said, “That meal really hit the spot. It’s been ages since I’ve had hotpot — I almost forgot what it tasted like.”

Qian Mi took out a bottle of limited-edition perfume and began spraying it on himself to mask the smell of hotpot. As he sprayed, he said, “If Shi Fei were willing to treat me to hotpot every day, I’d be happy to read his horoscope for free.”

He glanced over and saw Qu Cai staring in the direction Shi Fei’s car had just left. “What are you looking at?” he asked.

Behind his glasses, Qu Cai’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Did you notice Shi Fei’s assistant just now?”

Qian Mi nodded. “Yeah, he looked pretty good. You want him to cameo in something?”

Cao An ran a hand through his messy hair and said, “He’s not as good-looking as me, of course, but for a cameo you don’t want someone too photogenic — they might steal the spotlight.”

Qu Cai smacked both of them lightly on the head. “Is his face what I’m asking about?”

“Hey!” Qian Mi grumbled, fixing his hair. “You messed up my hairstyle.”

Cao An asked, “If it’s not about his looks, then what? Does Shi Fei’s assistant have some special skill worth your attention?”

Qu Cai stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I saw a short clip before. From what I know, Shi Fei’s assistant majored in thanatology — funeral studies.”

He raised his eyebrows at them. “Now do you get what I mean?”

Cao An’s eyes lit up. “Smart.”

Qian Mi nodded. “Good idea. Whether we can lure this talent over depends on you.”

The three exchanged looks — they all understood immediately what was being implied.

—

“Achoo!”

Behind the wheel, Xu Zeming suddenly sneezed. He rubbed his nose with one hand and muttered, “Someone must be talking about me.”

Shi Fei, playing a mobile mini-game, said casually, “Maybe it’s some girl who likes you.”

Xu Zeming laughed. “No way. Once those girls find out what I majored in, none of them would dare confess to me.”

Shi Fei raised an eyebrow.

Fair enough — his major was kind of off-putting.

Xu Zeming asked, “But seriously, Shi Fei, you’re really going to act in that drama?”

Shi Fei replied, “I’ve already signed the contract.”

Xu Zeming said, “You’re amazing. You just achieved great results with your music — everyone thought you’d keep focusing on that, but you suddenly jumped into acting instead.”

Shi Fei asked, “Don’t you have confidence in me?”

Xu Zeming shook his head. “It’s not that. On the contrary, I have complete faith in you. You’re the kind of person who can excel at anything you do. I just worry about how the public might react.”

Shi Fei had surprised him so many times that Xu Zeming had developed a kind of blind admiration for him.

Still, no matter how high the quality of Shi Fei’s songs was, he hadn’t yet reached Shen Qingran’s level — he didn’t have a Grammy to his name, and the major award season hadn’t even begun yet.

 

Even if Shi Fei were to win every music award imaginable, that still wouldn’t mean he could act.

Plenty of singers had tried switching to acting, only to ruin entire dramas — and end up as meme material.

Shi Fei said casually, “Whatever. I’ve been getting hate since the day I debuted. The more they hate me, the more popular I get. Whether I can act or not isn’t up to them to decide — the work itself will speak for me.”

Hearing that, Xu Zeming admired him even more. Not many people could maintain such a mindset.

Still, his concern wasn’t unfounded — because soon enough, things started to happen.

That day, several people had taken photos of Shi Fei at the audition. Now that someone had uploaded them online, the news spread like wildfire.

“Shi Fei’s going into acting? He finally couldn’t resist ruining another industry.”

“Makes sense — acting pays better than singing.”

“Everyone get ready, another wide-eyed, green-screen superstar is on the way.”

 

“You people really have nothing better to do than hate on others all day.”

“Just wait — Brother Fei has never let us down. Don’t get your faces slapped again later.”

“Leave our Brother Fei alone. He’s just a singer, stop overreacting. No official announcement, no comment.”

“As long as brother Fei doesn’t quit the industry, I don’t care whether he sings or acts.”

“The trauma of living in constant fear that brother Fei might retire again…”

Shi Fei had already stepped on plenty of toes in the music industry. But thanks to his undeniable talent, he’d managed to slap back all those who doubted him.

Now that word got out he was going to act, a bunch of actors and entertainment companies started getting nervous.

Couldn’t he just stick to singing? Why did he have to come fight for acting jobs too?

The market was already in a cold winter — and now this guy wanted to snatch roles from them.

Some people tried to stir up hate against Shi Fei, but they were quickly shut down by Song Yiyuan’s PR team.

Ever since Shi Fei’s new album had become a huge success, his agency — Yiyuan Studio — had reaped massive profits along with him. Just the four hundred million yuan investment from Gu Yueze alone had earned the studio tens of millions in bonuses.

With that kind of money, Yiyuan now had a first-class public relations team. Not just anyone could push them around anymore. The moment someone tried to start a smear campaign, the studio crushed it immediately.

They fully demonstrated what crisis management was supposed to look like.

—

A few days later, Shi Fei joined the film crew to shoot his costume and makeup stills.

They rented out a professional studio, brought in top-notch camera equipment, and hired skilled makeup artists.

The process went pretty smoothly — except for when he had to take paired photos with Wang Yuanzhi. That guy kept rolling his eyes upward in every shot, making Shi Fei want to punch him several times.

After a whole afternoon, they finally finished the shoot. Wang Yuanzhi bolted out of there the second they wrapped, as if staying near Shi Fei for another minute would poison him.

Shi Fei also packed up, ready to leave — there were still three days before the official start of filming.

That was when Qian Mi walked over.

If Wang Yuanzhi had been the second person Shi Fei most wanted to punch today, Qian Mi was definitely number one.

He was wearing a leopard-print suit — even his leather shoes were leopard-print. Around his neck hung a tiny leopard pendant, no one knew where he’d found such a ridiculous getup.

To top it off, his hair was dyed cherry-blossom pink.

At that moment, Shi Fei suddenly realized how merciful Qian Mi had been to everyone’s eyes on the day of the audition.

And the worst part? Every time he appeared in front of Shi Fei, he’d always sweep a hand through his hair with smug confidence — a gesture so obnoxious it made Shi Fei want to hit him even more than Wang Yuanzhi.

Here, Cao An also appeared, still looking as sloppy as ever — wearing slippers, a tank top, and big shorts, looking exactly like someone who’d been holed up at home writing a script for half a month without stepping outside.

A slightly more “normal” Qu Cai held a small notebook in his hand, his lips moving slightly as he mumbled something, then wrote down a number. “This money’s not enough,” he said. “Just renting the studio and filming equipment today cost us over ten thousand.”

Qian Mi leaned in to look. “What could possibly cost over ten thousand? These cameras and gear, renting them for a few days already costs thousands. Why don’t we just shoot with our phones instead?”

Qu Cai refused immediately. “No way. The quality of the costume photos affects everyone’s first impression. It has to look professional. How could we possibly shoot with a phone?”

Of course, Qian Mi knew that wasn’t realistic — he was just saying it for the sake of saying something.

But truth be told, their production crew was broke.

At that moment, all three of them turned to look at Shi Fei.

Shi Fei looked up at them. “You three cornering me in this room—what exactly do you want?”

Qu Cai spoke awkwardly. “Shi Fei, you’ve seen it yourself. We really do want to make a good show. Even the props and filming equipment are top-notch… it’s just that we’re a bit short on funds.”

Shi Fei said flatly, “So because you’re short on money, you set your sights on my assistant? You want someone who studied funeral services—someone who specializes in doing makeup for the dead—to be the makeup artist for your crew?”

Cao An said, “We figured, makeup is makeup. It’s all the same, right?”

Shi Fei said, “Doing makeup for the dead and for the living is not the same thing. Can you not take nonsense this far?”

Qu Cai said, “That’s why we wanted to ask if you’re sure you don’t want to bring in some investment? You’d be an investor. If this drama becomes a hit later, you’ll make a huge profit.”

Shi Fei rubbed his forehead. “Fine, tell me — how much startup capital do you have right now?”

Qu Cai held up three fingers.

Shi Fei frowned. “Thirty million is a bit on the low side. Nowadays, even a decently made web drama costs at least a hundred million. A suspense-heavy series like this one burns money like crazy. Even if you cut corners, you’re still looking at fifty to sixty million minimum.”

Qu Cai awkwardly corrected him, “It’s… three million.”

Shi Fei froze for a second, then turned to leave. “I’m out. You guys can play by yourselves.”

The three of them hurriedly grabbed him. Cao An quickly said, “Don’t! You’re the male lead — if you leave, we can’t even shoot this drama!”

Qian Mi said, “As long as you agree to stay, I’ll do daily fortune readings for you during filming — free of charge.”

Qu Cai added, “Our script really is great. The only reason we’re in this situation is because we refused investors who wanted to interfere creatively. We genuinely want to make something good.”

Shi Fei said bluntly, “Wanting to make something good still requires money. Three million? A decent production team spends that much per episode.”

“That’s why we’re asking you to invest a little! You like this script too, right? If we just film it properly, make it a high-quality series, I guarantee it’ll be a hit.” Whether it would be or not didn’t matter — bragging came first.

Shi Fei sat back down, rubbing his temples. “Thirty million. I’ll invest thirty million. But I have one condition.”

The three of them instantly brightened. Cao An got so excited he nearly went up to hug Shi Fei, only to be pushed away in disgust.

The three of them looked at Shi Fei as if they were looking at their golden patron daddy.

When they heard Shi Fei’s words, they immediately thought he was talking about profit sharing later on, so they quickly said, “Don’t worry, of course the contract will be revised. Whatever profit share belongs to you, not a single cent will be taken away.”

Shi Fei looked up at the three of them and said, “The contract will indeed be revised. But I also have a small request — I want to make one little change to the script.”

As soon as Cao An heard the words ‘change the script’, he panicked. “Didn’t you say last time that you had no problem with the script? Why are you changing it again?”

Shi Fei smiled. “I’m not changing the plot. I just think that one of the character names clashes with my fortune. I just want to change that person’s name.”

Cao An let out a sigh of relief, patting his chest. “Oh, just changing a name? Fine, go ahead. As long as it’s not the male lead, you can change anyone’s name you want.”

Shi Fei said with a grin, “It’s the male lead.”

Before he met the three of them, Shi Fei hadn’t thought much of the protagonist’s name — Qian Qu Cao — only that it wasn’t particularly catchy.

But after meeting the three of them in person, he found the name way too distracting. Every time he read it aloud, their three faces would pop into his head uninvited.

The expressions on the three men’s faces instantly cracked.

In the end, Shi Fei invested thirty million yuan into the “Infinite Death” production as an investor, and at the same time, he changed the male lead’s name.

As for what the new name was — he let them decide that for themselves. Seeing their pitiful expressions, Shi Fei generously allowed them to keep one of the surnames.

But the name itself had to be something normal.

 

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