Chapter 2: You Must Be The Male Lead

“Rebirth with cheat codes?” Zhang Yang’s heart swelled with delight.

“This is the right way to navigate the entertainment industry.”

It was now 2011, and he had two more years left on his ten-year contract with Tangren, which would expire around early 2014.

The year 2014 was special; smartphones began their massive proliferation, internet giants entered the entertainment scene causing skyrocketing salaries for celebrities, ushering in the era of “flow stars.” The “Four Little Swans” ignited a frenzy, while Sword and Fairy debuted, birthing one of the first true flow stars.

Before the government imposed salary caps, starting from 2014, even third- or fourth-tier actors could earn more than today’s top stars. Terms like “one ‘satisfy’” (a unit representing a large sum) and “achieving several minor goals per year” became common parlance.

If he could rise to become a top-tier star within these three years, he’d be able to earn more money casually than what he made over the past decade combined.

So making money wasn’t his immediate goal—becoming famous was.

Of course, he also needed to find a way to quickly resolve his contractual obligations and gain freedom.

He pondered how best to leverage Tangren’s resources to become popular, all while seeking ways to break his contract—when suddenly, fate intervened.

Let me see, Zhang Yang thought, opening the jade slip in his mind.

On the first page, in bold letters, it read:

In the lower right corner of the jade slip, Zhang Yang saw his current available character points: 10 (Wang Xiaohu, Yang Yanhui, Yin Zhiping, He Biping…)

Character Point Acquisition Method: By portraying characters with a certain level of destiny in TV shows or movies, and receiving recognition after the work is broadcast, one can earn one to three points.

“Hm?”

“These requirements are quite high,” Zhang Yang muttered to himself.

As far as he understood, these so-called “characters with destiny” were at least supporting roles—ones that had names, backgrounds, and could be remembered within a story.

From an efficiency standpoint, it seemed like playing minor supporting roles would accumulate more Character Points than playing major leads. But reality wasn’t so simple.

If you played supporting roles, it meant you weren’t famous enough yet. Without fame, you had no say on set; your role allocation was entirely dependent on the production team. Often, due to scattered shooting schedules, you’d have to stick around from the first day of filming until wrap-up—a long commitment for minimal reward.

Trying to play supporting roles after becoming popular? That would just make you look like a fool in the eyes of investors—a waste of commercial potential…

On the other hand, excelling as a lead actor, gaining widespread recognition, not only brought success but also earned three Character Points per performance—the highest return for effort.

“I wonder how exactly these opportunities are given out.”

With this thought swirling in his mind, Zhang Yang decided to give it a try.

Just then, his phone rang. He saw Jiang Jinfu’s name on the caller ID.

Jiang Jinfu was a fellow student in the 2009 Shanghai Theatre Academy acting program and also one of Zhang Yang’s dorm mates.

Since he was the oldest among them, the other three called him “Brother Yang.”

There were two others in their dorm room—Zhang Bohan, who was second oldest, and Zhang Zhe, who came after him.

With three people named Zhang in one dormitory, their classmates often teased them about not bullying the youngest, Jiang Jinfu. In reality, however, Jiang Jinfu never suffered any real harm; instead, his quick temper made him more than capable of standing up for himself.

That afternoon, during a basketball game, Jiang Jinfu had gotten too aggressive while shooting. The ball hit someone’s hand and flew back, striking him squarely on the head.

“Hello?” Zhang Yang answered the call.

“Brother Yang, feeling better now?” Concern filled Jiang Jinfu’s voice.

Rubbing his head, Zhang Yang chuckled. “Fuzi, I think I might have a concussion. Nothing short of ten barbecues will fix me this time.”

Realizing immediately that his friend wasn’t seriously injured, Jiang Jinfu laughed sheepishly. “Brother Yang, you sure know how to make demands! How bad could it be from getting smacked by a ball flying off course like that?”

Before Zhang Yang could respond, the two eavesdropping “Zhangs” beside Jiang Jinfu voiced their dissent. They insisted it was no minor blow.

Whether they spoke out of concern for Zhang Yang or just wanted to take advantage of the situation for free food later remained unclear—except perhaps to themselves.

Jiang Jinfu argued for a bit before reluctantly giving in. “Ten meals is too much, but I do have some good news tonight. Let me treat you guys to dinner.”

Zhang Bohan immediately started hollering that one meal wasn’t enough, but Zhang Yang said, “Sure, tonight’s late-night snack is on your Jinfu-ge.”

Jinfu-ge?

For some reason, Jiang Jinfu felt this nickname grated on his ears—especially since it was coming from Zhang Yang.

“Let’s eat first,” Zhang Yang suggested. He helped Zhao Ji fold her quilt, then considered that they’d be having a late-night snack later, so he didn’t rush off to the lab just yet.

Half an hour later, the four of them were sitting at a barbecue restaurant, clinking glasses together.

After downing a few cups of wine, Jiang Jinfu’s face flushed slightly as he announced, “I’ve signed with an entertainment company now.”

The three others turned to look at him; aside from Zhang Yang, they were all curious which company he had signed with.

“It’s the same as Yang-ge—Tangren,” Jiang Jinfu explained, raising his glass towards Zhang Yang. “From now on, Ge, you’re my shixiong. You gotta take care of me!”

“What can I possibly take care of?” Zhang Yang wouldn’t bite the bait, smiling as he clinked glasses with Jiang Jinfu. “Huge Huo-shixiong, Lin Gengxin-shixiong, Yuan Hong-shixiong—they’re all at Tangren. You should go find them.”

Now that Jiang Jinfu had signed with Tangren, it must mean Cai Yining had kept her promise about letting him play the male lead in Xuanyuan Sword: Heaven’s Scar. She even wrote that condition into his contract.

If he boasted too much now, his face would be slapped later.

“I’m still a newbie,” Jiang Jinfu said, downing his drink in one gulp. “There’s so much I don’t understand yet.” He continued, “To be honest, I’m feeling a lot of pressure. When Miss K signed me, she promised I’d play the male lead in a drama. The female leads are Liu Shishi, Tang Yan, and that hottest Beiping Film Academy student from earlier this year—Nazha.”

Shhh!

Zhang Bohan and Zhang Zhe were stunned.

Liu Shishi, Tang Yan, and Yang Mi were known as the Three Beauties of Sword and Fairy III.

This year, Yang Mi and Tang Yan had risen to fame through Palace Locks Heart Jade and The Three Thousand Golds of Xia Family, respectively, becoming top-tier stars overnight.

While Liu Shishi lagged slightly behind, she was still among the most popular second-tier celebrities. Rumor had it that her upcoming drama, Step by Step, held potential to be a hit; if successful, she could join the ranks of the top tier before Jiang Jinfu’s drama even finished filming.

By then, with two first-class actresses starring alongside him, he’d have ample opportunity for instant stardom—just like Hu Ge did when he played the lead in the original Sword and Fairy years ago.

As these thoughts crossed their minds, Zhang Bohan and Zhang Zhe’s expressions shifted, and they began spewing out flattery left and right.

In essence, they were saying: If you strike gold here, don’t forget your bros.

If I ever make it big, I won’t hesitate to help you guys out.

The pair even scrambled to foot the bill for dinner.

But Zhang Yang remained unperturbed, watching all this unfold as if it meant nothing to him.

This scenario differed from Jiang Jinfu’s expectations. He swiftly changed his tone and said, “Brother Zhang, when signing the contract, I mentioned to Miss K that you should be cast as Male Lead B. Since I’m more familiar with you, your acting skills are widely recognized by our mentors, and you could even guide me along—us brothers fighting together on screen.”

“But Miss K insisted that Senior Hu Ge play Male Lead B; my input didn’t count for much.”

“Right now, I’m actively trying to secure you the role of Male Lead C, Zhang Lie.”

Upon hearing this, Zhang Bohan and Zhang Zhe couldn’t help but feel a surge of envy towards Zhang Yang, tinged with a hint of jealousy.

Zhang Yang was currently Shangxi University’s undisputed heartthrob, having recently ranked tenth in their all-time list of campus beauties—a list dominated by celebrities who had once been students there.

Moreover, backed by Tangren Productions, Zhang Yang’s acting prowess was acknowledged by his teachers. As the Vice-President of the Student Council, he was undoubtedly a rising star at school.

Jiang Jinfu’s attempt to support Zhang Yang made sense to them, but what astonished them most was Hu Ge being relegated to the role of Male Lead B, essentially becoming Jiang Jinfu’s sidekick.

Is he perhaps Cai Yining’s love child or something?

“Thanks for your thoughtfulness, Fuzi,” Zhang Yang toasted again, raising his glass.

Seeing him like this, Jiang Jinfu felt slightly disheartened. There were no real grievances between him and Zhang Yang, but he couldn’t stomach always being overshadowed by his friend—he yearned to outdo him just once!

How could Zhang Yang remain so composed about it?

Meanwhile, Zhang Yang was calculating:

“Jin Fu must land the lead role.”

“But how can I secure the part of Male Lead B?”

“And we’ll need to find ways to increase my screen time too.”