Chapter 73

The cost of signing the contract is not being able to fall in love; how can I bring myself to say that?

It had been a long time since Hu Xiu had talked into the night at Li Ai’s REGARD—she was working as a translator at Jing’an Temple, starving and seeing stars, so she slipped into the darkness and went to REGARD. She told Li Ai about Zhao Xiaorou’s recent situation, and he simply replied, “You reap what you sow,” bending down to start prying open a bottle of alcohol.

Previously, when she and Zhao Xiaorou were chatting in a shop with the lights off and the shutters pulled down, Li Ai had been listening through the camera. Sometimes, he would join the conversation for a few words; or the three of them would drink together. The funniest moment with Zhao Xiaorou back then was when she got drunk and took a taxi, bringing out a bottle of grape juice, insisting it was a 1982 Lafite. Li Ai had said the grape juice was over ten years old and was probably spoiled.

At that time, the three of them had reached a unanimous conclusion: all sister gatherings in the world were the same—watching stars, watching the moon, talking about poetry and songs, and eventually discussing who was a bitch.

Now, she and Li Ai sat in a coffee shop playing guitar, from Nakagawa Sharen’s Lady Penelope to Akihiko Aomine’s song for 1310, fingerstyle playing at a master level—

It was said that during the time after his wife passed away, his fingertips bled as he practiced until he reached the pinnacle of perfection.

After the song ended, Hu Xiu and Li Ai exchanged a silent glance and quietly clinked their glasses. On the table was a bottle of dry white wine, half-drunk, but they hadn’t spoken a word.

What could make the conversation lively and engaging was Zhao Xiaorou. Without the backbone, no one could liven up the atmosphere.

Hu Xiu opened her phone and checked the trending topics on Weibo. When Zhao Xiaorou was dating Gong Huaicong, she had appeared on the gossip list, gaining the treatment of a celebrity. Now, the trending topic was the rumor involving a popular male idol and a female actress. Both were in their early twenties, and after having a meal together at a restaurant, they came out holding hands. Marketing accounts had taken the opportunity to speculate: “These two walked out of the restaurant hand in hand. Is this the start of a public relationship?”

Chapter 73: The Price of Signing a Contract is Not Being Able to Date, How Can I Say That Out Loud

“These past few years, xxx hasn’t been focusing on acting, all his attention has been on fawning over male idols. And yet, he was the first to jump out and clarify this—it’s hard for me to understand the direction of this story.”

“The male idol is at the peak of his career, and we hope he continues to prioritize his career. Let’s not speculate too much about him, let’s focus on his new song instead!”

The statement was as good as saying nothing. These days, aside from love and public outrage, trending topics are usually bought.

Hu Xiu zoomed in on the photo of the meal, and the male idol’s hand seemed more like it was around the female actress’s shoulder.

However, the female actress’s Weibo comment section had already been overrun with slut-shaming, coming on fast.

As an experienced fan, she had gradually come to understand the patterns: traffic stars were like the bubbles of an era, with films and TV series tailored to their popularity, and songs were like fast food. Over time, when the bubble bursts, a new round of traffic stars emerges. Especially now, with so many idols and internet celebrities, earning a slice of the pie seems more like a goal of participating in talent shows and gaining attention.

The dark side of it was that idols couldn’t date, they had to satisfy their fans, appear on variety shows as much as possible, and avoid too much contact with female artists—

No wonder Diāo Zhìyǔ hated all this.

Li Ai drank the last drop of his alcohol, and though he wasn’t drunk, his fingers were moving faster on the guitar, changing the tune of the song.

Hu Xiu listened more closely and frowned. “What’s going on? Did you turn your guitar into a shamisen?”

“I can play bass, ukulele, guitar, and what’s wrong with the shamisen?”

“You’ve had too much to drink…”

“I really haven’t. Don’t believe me? I could recite Ma Liang’s tricks for you. I noticed it the first time on the Snowpiercer, but didn’t say anything.”

“Who knew he’d end up around Zhao Xiaorou... Anyway—she never listens to me.”

Another thing Li Ai and Hu Xiu had in common was their shared interest in studying sheet music.

They had once sat in the same spot, seriously studying why Shiina Ringo was unique, and eventually discovered two lines in her left-hand score: one was the bass feel, the other was the chords. Two different rhythms out of sync turned pop into jazz.

Now, seeing Li Ai messing around on the guitar, Hu Xiu understood—this heartbroken man was using alcohol to drown his sorrows.

During the day, Li Ai was apologizing to clients. Zhao Xiaorou had adjusted three outdoor shoots due to her poor health, and another editing intern had left the company. He was scrambling to help Pei Zhen design, and this was his rare moment of personal time.

The design was on his iPad. Li Ai had designed a new home for Pei Zhen, with cream and beige tones, warm and understated yet sophisticated, clearly a haven for a single person.

“Isn’t this design similar to the one you did for Zhao Xiaorou?”

“Yeah, that one in Shenzhen. But later, Wang Guangming didn’t approve it, said it was too simple.”

“Better to rent it out without renovating, saves money.”

“Since Tang Ting passed away, I’ve taken fewer cases. Zhao Xiaorou was the first exception.

Back then, I really liked her—sharp, a bit arbitrary, she just did what she wanted to do.

Wang Guangming is the type who likes to crush other people’s dreams. Zhao Xiaorou, he couldn’t control her.”

“You like Zhao Xiaorou and you like Xu Meng—” Hu Xiu hiccuped. “Do you have a thing for married women?”

Li Ai flicked Hu Xiu’s forehead. “What are you thinking? It’s all a coincidence.”

“But your level of affection really makes women take you seriously. I’m not saying this is a flaw, Li Ai, but it’s definitely a personality flaw. You’re always too concerned about people with cracks in their souls. In this respect, you’re no different from Ma Liang. He only targets unmarried women.”

“You’ve got a sharp tongue. There are single girls who pursue me, I’ve been tempted.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Before Zhao Xiaorou got divorced—I’ve told you, I don’t have a thing for married women.

Later, she joined SNH48, and disappeared from the shop. Not long ago, she held a handshake event, sometimes came by the shop to hang out, but we’re just friends.”

Hu Xiu hadn’t expected the age gap to be that big! But when she saw her in the shop, introducing coffee beans and making hand-drip coffee with a devout expression, she felt like she was being soaked in some kind of charming liquid. To some extent, he couldn’t be approached in the lawsuit, and wavering was the only thing he could do.

Suddenly, she seemed to remember something. “Idols can’t date, right?”

“Of course not. Those management contracts are very strict.”

After thinking for a while, Hu Xiu smiled and clinked glasses with Li Ai. “Can I sleep on your cot tonight? I don’t want to go back.”

“Not a chance…” Li Ai pointed to the back door. “Diāo Zhìyǔ will be here in ten minutes.”

Drunk, Hu Xiu curled up with Diāo Zhìyǔ, sleeping soundly, grateful for the alcohol—recently, she hadn’t been sleeping well.

Her “art exam dad” knew the ropes. Hu Xiu made a call, earnestly asking if he knew any familiar teachers and managed to find out about one of her former students.

The student, around her age, was now doing artist training, teaching dance and vocals. The trainee conditions were tough, and they had to sign confidentiality agreements. Finally, she asked her dad, “Do teachers in artist training make good money?”

“I’ve never asked, but it’s definitely not as stable as working in the art exam. Still thinking about that young actor? I suggest you give it up. Xiao Pei is back. You should meet more often…”

Hu Xiu politely and quickly hung up the phone.

Recently, Diāo Zhìyǔ seemed to be quite free. After leaving 007, he hadn’t looked for any more murder mystery scripts.

Instead, he had taken on some filming projects, but he hadn’t been actively looking for opportunities in film and acting.

Word on the street was that many of his scenes in the film had been cut—due to reviews, personal reasons, or editing preferences… it was unclear.

Rarely attending rehearsals, Hu Xiu sat at a distance, reviewing materials, and felt that Diāo Zhìyǔ didn’t seem to be in the right state. His voice gradually lowered as he played the eccentric scientist in the script. He had been mulling over the script for a long time, but there was no breakthrough.

Looking back at Hu Xiu, he said gently, “I bought some groceries, do you want to come home and have dinner?”

She cooked a meal at home, braised pig’s trotters and stir-fried spring bamboo shoots. While eating, the man was silent and the woman was in tears. Diao Zhiyu put down his chopsticks. “How about we just order takeout next time?”

Damn it!

After dinner, Hu Xiu eagerly replied to comments on Bilibili and eagerly opened a talent show video, watching it with great interest.

She pointed to a boy who was showing his abs while dancing. “This guy was really popular, he later became the talent show champion.”

“What’s the point of these singing and dancing idols? I’m not interested in this kind of thing.”

“How many people are scrambling to gain popularity on these shows?” Hu Xiu’s typing speed was fast, and she didn’t forget to continue Diao Zhiyu’s thought, “Trending on Weibo, creating gimmicks, stealing the spotlight... In the past, on Idol Producer, the top trainees had people standing next to them just trying to grab camera time. Zhao Xiaorou told me after she visited the filming set, because she wasn’t popular, she could only hitch a ride on someone else’s camera.”

“So, all this is meaningless.”

“Not necessarily. The friendships you make are real, the connections are real, being admired by the mentors is real, and the emotions from working hard together for months are real.”

“You really like talent shows, huh?”

“I watched Produce 101 and Chuang 101 in Korea before, and I honestly cried for their friendships.”

“Opportunities may come at this moment. People with shining qualities will be noticed by the audience—audiences are not easy to fool.”

Diao Zhiyu didn’t respond, only rummaging through his bag for his script. Hu Xiu turned around; it was a dating reality show. The script carefully outlined every interaction, from the first meeting to physical contact, with each episode planned in perfect rhythm. Diao Zhiyu said, “After seeing this, do you still think being an idol is interesting?”

Hu Xiu rested her chin on Diao Zhiyu’s shoulder. “This should have been Zhao Xiaorou’s gig—where’s this from? The company didn’t send you to participate, did they?”

“This is a project I did for someone else. I’m the director,” Diao Zhiyu leaned against the window. “If they had asked me to participate in something like this, I’d rather they killed me.”

“Don’t be so dismissive of the industry.” This was probably Diao Zhiyu’s immaturity. He had just graduated, and although he had some part-time work experience, his youth had still been far from simple.

But his experiences had not yet outgrown his age, and he still carried that academic air.

When Hu Xiu was twenty-three, she was definitely less mature than Diao Zhiyu, but the harshness of society had reminded her that encouraging Diao Zhiyu to try things, to stumble and taste success, was the only way for him to change.

The camel had been bathed, its eyelashes clustered together in a few spots, and it had transformed into a fairy.

She stretched out her hand to pinch the camel’s face, and the boy in the mirror looked distorted from the pinch. “You’re really handsome, with such a unique aura. How come you’re so stubborn?”

“Am I?” Diao Zhiyu pinched her hand and, for once, seemed willing to seriously discuss it. “Everyone thinks your looks and conditions are perfect for becoming a star.”

“So you’re in a bit of an awkward situation: the academy feels like you’re not cut out for this, and the industry thinks you’re too sharp, what are you going to choose?”

“Put aside your ambitions and sharp edges, and choose a path and stick to it.”

Diao Zhiyu looked at the mirror, then unexpectedly saw Hu Xiu also looking at him, her expression serious, as if she wasn’t joking.

Hu Xiu let go of her hand and sat down seriously in front of him. “Why were you in a bad mood when you were drinking by the roadside?”

He didn’t speak...

“Was it because you hated the company’s terms? Was the salary not enough?”

“No...”

“Then why didn’t you continue acting for 007? I think you want to try being a real actor, don’t you?”

“Several companies have offered me contracts. But the conditions are all very harsh.”

“Is it the share or salary, or do you feel the future isn’t good enough?”

“Can you just stop asking?” Diao Zhiyu’s expression changed. “I’ll deal with these things myself.”

“I’m not your mom, I’m your girlfriend, of course, I can say it...”

Diao Zhiyu looked into her eyes. “The price of signing a contract is that I can’t be in a relationship. How can I say that?”

Sure enough. Hu Xiu had imagined this situation many times, but when she finally heard these words, she still found it hard to believe.

In her mind, it was probably like Leonardo DiCaprio or Robert Pattinson—moving from idol leading men to accomplished actors was a necessary path.

But Diao Zhiyu didn’t see it this way—he had never regarded himself as a handsome guy. He held his talent in high regard and was aloof. He knew he wouldn’t be the leading man, but he wasn’t willing to degrade himself to be an idol star, becoming an empty shell for others to follow. When she thought about this, Hu Xiu smiled.

“I thought it was something else. Diao Zhiyu, you really are immature.”

“Immature?”

“Do you know how much effort an idol star has to put in to debut? They have to participate in the company’s auditions, receive vocal, dance, and acting training, learn foreign languages, relearn etiquette, those good at hosting must work on their speaking skills, and those with camera-friendly looks must improve their acting skills. How many people fall off the road before they even make it?

“Don’t look down on the fans. The fan culture you despise has been around for years. Why does it still exist? Because these idols have, at some point, illuminated their fans’ lives, even if it’s from a distance.”

“Just like when I met you during my low point. It’s not that I idolized you or thought you were the most handsome person in the world. No, it was when I saw you that my heartbeat became meaningful, and when I heard that heartbeat, I realized I was truly alive.”

“There may be extreme fan behavior, stalking, and violations of privacy.”

“But there are also those who take photos, show support, and truly see their idols as people who illuminated their lives.”

“Some people even strive to rise higher, just to one day stand at the same level as their idols, to become someone who can also light up the other person’s life.”

“Don’t say anymore. I know all this. When both the black and white sides of a thing are fifty percent, I don’t choose.”

“You’re not choosing because you don’t have the strength. You’re not guaranteed to be selected, and you may not even be competitive, right?”

Hu Xiu took a deep breath. If it really took words that cut deep to push him forward, then it was on her, and it didn’t matter: “Aside from being handsome enough, and doing a few tricks to win girls’ favor in Snowpiercer, your acting isn’t mature. There are plenty of your peers who have starred in films and TV dramas. The strength and popularity you’ve gained in murder mystery games aren’t enough.

You might even be eliminated in the first round of a talent show. With this kind of fan economy, your personality isn’t that likable either. If the company gives you a small share of the screen time, then Diao Zhiyu going in might just be a joke. And besides, you have a girlfriend—you don’t even have the mindset of an idol…”

“What are you trying to say?” Diao Zhiyu finally turned serious and looked her in the eyes. “Are you saying I’m not capable?”

“I know you’re excellent. It’s just that when faced with competition, you haven’t even thought about trying, you just chose to give up right away.

Whether it’s a talent show or signing with a company to act in idol dramas, you didn’t even try once.

Go to a talent show, get directly judged, see your flaws; go act in an idol drama, realize that playing a sweet CEO isn’t as easy as you think—not all of them follow clichés. After acting in a movie, you give up and fall into confusion, but you may not even realize what part of the process—from filming to final cut—led to you being cut out… Preconceiving is your biggest flaw. How would you know this isn’t what you want if you don’t try?”

“You’re too naive. Once you do these things and reach a certain point, there’s no turning back. We might not even be able to date anymore.”

“You’re only twenty-three, why are you thinking about these things?”

“Do you think our relationship doesn’t matter?”

“Compared to being with me, I hope you find your own path and do even better.”

When she said this, she heard something tearing in her ear. It was probably her heart, as the words she had been holding in finally came out.

Diao Zhiyu also realized this. He leaned in, holding her shoulder, and solemnly asked, “Hu Xiu, do you love me?”

Hu Xiu didn’t respond, just looking at the immature boy in front of her, who was now frustrated by her words.

“Do you want to break up just because you want me to do things I’ve never done and am not sure I’ll like?”

“I never thought about pushing you away, but for you to say goodbye over something like this, and say it so easily—sister, your heart is too cold.”

He had only called her “sister” twice before. The last time was when he questioned Lin Qiumei’s position in his heart, which made him cautious; this time, when he said those words, he was crying. This was the first time Hu Xiu had seen Diao Zhiyu cry outside of Snowpiercer.

The moment Diao Zhiyu slammed the door open, Hu Xiu thought. Indeed, she was much crueler than she had imagined.