Chapter 31: The Trouble-Making Duo

“A-Yang’s here, take a seat.”

Huo Jianhua pointed to a spot nearby.

Zhang Yang sat down without hesitation, reached for the bottle on the tea table, poured himself a glass, and downed it in one gulp.

“Ah, that’s refreshing,” Zhang Yang said casually as he leaned back on the sofa. “I heard you’ve got some chemistry with that girl?”

He had become friends with Huo Jianhua during the filming of Sword and Fairy III, their relationship closer than what internet rumors suggested about the “Hu-Huo” pairing.

The notion of “it’s Hu but not Huo” held no weight against their “trouble-seeking duo” camaraderie.

After all, true brothers share three bonds: they’ve whored together, split loot, and done time side by side.

While Zhang Yang and Huo Jianhua couldn’t have shared loot or jail cells, nor had they engaged in prostitution per se—they’d certainly partaken in their fair share of adventures.

Moreover, Zhang Yang once shielded Huo Jianhua from paparazzo photos, leaving the latter indebted to him.

“I did fancy her a bit before, but now she’s pursuing me. I’m not ready to settle down yet,” Huo Jianhua admitted openly.

He and Zhang Yang followed a simple rule: if they had something to discuss, they’d reach out; otherwise, silence prevailed. Yet whenever paths crossed, they always took the time to catch up.

They were more than just casual acquaintances—more like kindred spirits who could trust each other implicitly, despite society’s disapproval of such “unsavory friendships.”

During these occasional gatherings, Huo Jianhua often found solace in sharing his innermost thoughts with Zhang Yang.

“Just maintain this distant closeness, then,” Zhang Yang advised. “Given her personality, outright rejection might only fuel her interest further. But agreeing would likely leave you hurt.”

Zhang Yang, with his omniscient perspective, had a deep understanding of Lin Zuiwei’s character.

After the success of Prestige Imperial Concubine, she became even more narcissistic and self-assured, eventually parting ways with Huo Jianhua.

However, not long after their split, her career began to decline while Huo Jianhua maintained a steady popularity. Finally, thanks to the massive success of Hua Qian Gu, he regained his status as a top-tier celebrity. His commercial value skyrocketed, leading to an overwhelming number of film offers.

At that point, Lin Zuiwei tried to win him back, but after some entanglement, they ultimately reconciled.

If Huo Jianhua agreed now, he would only end up hurt again; yet if he refused, Lin Zuiwei wouldn’t accept it gracefully, turning it into another drawn-out affair.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Huo Jianhua said, sitting up and raising his wine glass towards Zhang Yang.

Clink!

Zhang Yang picked up his own glass for a toast, and together they downed their drinks in one gulp.

Before long, the private room door opened once more, admitting two women who were both cute and curvaceous.

In the parlance of the future, they embodied the perfect blend of innocence and sensuality—pure yet provocative.

The pair were charmingly sweet, promptly pouring drinks for Zhang Yang and Huo Jianhua.

As Zhang Yang and Huo Jianhua engaged in conversation, they occasionally stood up to sing along to the music or asked the hostesses to perform for them.

They continued drinking until just before 11 PM, when they finally left the private room together—without any women by their side.

For them, each place had its own way of enjoying women, but they never crossed certain boundaries.

“Still, it’s more comfortable with you,” Huo Jianhua said, wrapping an arm around Zhang Yang’s shoulders. “Everything feels right.”

“Hah! Are you sure it’s not because we hardly ever agree on the type of women we like?” Zhang Yang teased.

“That’s part of our fate too.” Huo Jianhua laughed brightly.

Zhang Shaohan, Chen Qiao’en… He’d seen quite a few sights in his time.

In his view, Zhang Yang’s preferences were still too young.

The two bantered all the way back to Huo Jianhua’s business van parked behind the club.

The driver, used to such late nights, quietly took them back to their hotel.

As they got out of the van, Huo Jianhua rubbed his temples. “Just don’t offend Lin Zuiwei here, and you’ll be fine. For small issues, talk to Yan Yikuan; for big ones, come find me.”

That’s exactly what I was waiting to hear.

Zhang Yang pulled out several sheets from his pocket and handed them to Huo Jianhua. “Then please, Brother Hua, deliver this to Lin Zuiwei. If she doesn’t agree, could you at least get me a chance to have dinner with her and persuade her?”

A favor is meant to be used; otherwise, it expires unused.

It was just a small favor; he couldn’t possibly ask Huo Jianhua to give up his role as the male lead in Hua Qian Gu for him.

Although Huo Jianhua had been reluctant to play more fantasy roles and had rejected this script for over half a year.

“You want me to add scenes?” Huo Jianhua skimmed through the paper and rubbed his forehead. “To be honest, I don’t think you need to put so much effort into Zhao Kuangyin’s character. It won’t stand out.”

“Remember when you weren’t taking acting gigs a few years back, insisting on studying at school instead? Now that you’re willing to take on roles again, I can introduce you to a third male lead part. The shoot is scheduled to start around October this year—it’s Criminal Mastermind, which I’m starring in with Wu Qilong.”

Zhang Yang was somewhat surprised by Huo Jianhua’s sincerity. He happened to know about Criminal Mastermind.

In terms of production quality, it could be considered a high-budget TV series. However, upon release in China, its reception was rather unremarkable, failing to make waves. Yet after airing across various Asian countries, it achieved notable success—becoming the highest-rated Chinese-language drama in South Korea for 2013.

If Zhang Yang wanted to increase his international influence, this seemed like an excellent opportunity.

Had he not been fully booked at the time, Zhang Yang would have jumped at the chance to join the cast.

But he had faith in himself and his special ability.

“Only kids make choices; why settle for one when you can have both?” Zhang Yang decided to play it safe.

“Not surprising from you,” Huo Jianhua chuckled.

Without explicitly agreeing or disagreeing, he waved the script in his hand and turned to leave.

Zhang Yang didn’t chase after him, confident that Huo Jianhua wouldn’t disappoint.

But he never anticipated how swiftly Huo Jianhua would act, delivering a pleasant surprise instead.

The next day at noon, just as Zhang Yang was finishing dinner with the crew, Lin Ziwei’s assistant called him over to the umbrella beside the production van.

“I’ve read through it; not much content-wise, but all high points for Zhao Kuangyin’s character,” Lin Ziwei began, her tone approving. “Your writing is solid too.” She paused before changing tack. “However, it has nothing to do with our main storyline. Adding it or not makes no difference.”

Her unspoken message hung heavy: There’s no reason for me to alter the plot for your benefit, giving you extra screen time.

Zhang Yang had prepared his response long ago. Sitting up straight, he said, “Sister Ziwei, precisely because it doesn’t affect the main storyline, I feel comfortable asking Brother Hua to pass on this idea to you.”

Lin Ziwei blinked, perplexed. Isn’t that contradictory?

“If it did impact the main narrative, filming would require involving many more people,” Zhang Yang continued. “The production schedule would need adjustments, possibly even recalling actors who have finished their scenes. It might even increase the workload for you main cast members, including Sister Ziwei.”

“But right now, we’re simply expanding Zhao Kuangyin’s character arc as a subplot. We could easily have an assistant director take a crew with me to film these scenes. It wouldn’t disrupt the main production here or significantly increase costs.”

These were points that Lin Ziwei, in her role as producer, naturally understood.

That’s why she was willing to hear Zhang Yang out.

Otherwise, even if Huo Jianhua had passed on his message, she would have ignored it outright.

In short: Neither Zhang Yang nor the character of Zhao Kuangyin deserved her attention.

“It may not be much extra cost, but it is additional expense and effort,” Lin Ziwei countered. “And you still haven’t answered my question—what benefit does adding this content bring to the show?”

Benefit?

The benefit would be making the story less Mary Sue-ish.

But such thoughts were unsuitable for sharing with her.

“I can’t guarantee any specific benefits to the show, but I’m certain there won’t be any drawbacks.” Zhang Yang met Lin Ziwei’s gaze without a hint of hesitation. “However, I can say with confidence that it will definitely be beneficial for you, Sister Ziwei.”

“Does Sister Ziwei remember what I said yesterday?”

“Zhao Kuangyin harbors a secret love for Ma Fuya—a deep admiration, placing her forever at the pinnacle of his affections, like a radiant white moonlight.”

“But let me ask you: How many people actually know who Zhao Kuangyin is? And how many truly understand just how extraordinary he was?”

“Those who don’t know Zhao Kuangyin wouldn’t appreciate how exceptional Ma Fuya is to be his ‘white moonlight’—the unattainable love of his life.”

“It’s like when ordinary people fancy Ziwei-jie; it seems perfectly normal since many are drawn to you.”

“But if someone like Hua-ge confesses his feelings for you, others would say, ‘Ziwei-jie, you truly have a magnetic charm that even Hua-ge can’t resist.’”

Lin Zuiwei fell silent, understanding Zhang Yang’s implication.

The red flower needs green leaves to complement its beauty, she thought. Only with Zhao Kuangyin as the deep-green leaf can we make Ma Fuya’s blossom appear even more vibrant.

By adding scenes for Zhang Yang without disrupting the main shoot schedule, both he and the female lead could benefit significantly—a win-win situation.

“You go ahead first,” Lin Zuiwei said, waving her hand. “I’ll discuss this with the director and screenwriter.”

Zhang Yang knew from her gesture that it was likely a done deal.

“Take your time, Ziwei-jie,” he replied. “While I am looking out for myself, I understand my position well—I just want a taste of the benefits.”

With that, Zhang Yang returned to his place on set.

“Brother Yang, what did Lin Zuiwei want?” Nazha asked, curiosity written all over her face.

Zhang Yang looked at her and smiled mischievously. “I’ve secured you a special appearance role. How do you plan to thank me?”

Nazha blinked, taken aback by his unexpected offer.