Chapter 13
Due to some minor delays, Wen Xingze ultimately missed the opening ceremony of Encounter with the Dragon.
By the time he arrived, filming had already been underway for half a day. According to the schedule, tonight’s shoot was for the first night scene featuring the character Heng Zhi. Zheng Xiao, the director, had actually asked him if he wanted to postpone, but Wen Xingze felt they could proceed as planned.
It was 7 p.m.
When Wen Xingze emerged from the makeup room, everyone, including the director, was utterly stunned.
He looked too good!
Heng Zhi’s appearance had been decided long ago: a carefree and dashing young man in the early stages, and a ruthless, delicate, and bossy character later on.
Perhaps it was because the stylist had taken extra care with this handsome character, combined with Wen Xingze’s strong adaptability and excellent foundation—
The young man stood tall and slender, dressed in a snowy white Daoist robe with a long sword at his waist. His long hair wasn’t neatly tied; instead, a jade hairpin loosely held it back. His eyes, clear as glass, had a hint of watery color.
Holding a lantern, he strolled casually, as if emerging from a summer night.
“…”
The crew members were in awe.
Other actors were equally amazed.
And the fans? Well, they were practically losing their minds.
“Has the official announcement for Heng Zhi’s makeup not been released yet?” The assistant director called over to the photographer, “Once we’re done, let Wen Xingze take a few more shots before changing.”
With such striking looks, it would be a waste not to share more photos with the fans.
Initially, Wen Xingze’s sudden arrival as an essential character had raised eyebrows. But the moment he stepped out, hearts collectively melted. After all, a preference for beauty was encoded in human genes.
And surprisingly, Wen Xingze’s acting skills exceeded everyone’s expectations!
Tonight’s scene was the first encounter between Heng Zhi and the female lead. Xu Qianqian, who played the female lead, was a popular rising star with both reputation and influence. Her acting skills ranked among the best in her peer group.
Considering that Wen Xingze had little experience as a lead actor and rarely acted alongside highly skilled performers, everyone had braced themselves for a challenging battle.
To their astonishment, they nailed it in just the second take. Wen Xingze’s performance held its own against Xu Qianqian’s, neither overshadowing nor lacking in memorable moments. Especially in the final shot—when Heng Zhi sheathed his sword and raised an eyebrow with a playful yet profound gaze — it was nothing short of stunning.
“After it airs, he’ll probably gain a ton of female fans,” Xu Qianqian mused. “Impressive! Even I’m a little smitten.”
“Let Wen Xingze rest for now. We’ll shoot one more scene later, and then we’re done,” Zheng Xiao said, satisfied as he reviewed the playback. He waved a hand, allowing Wen Xingze to play with his phone.
The crew had already thoughtfully prepared a reclining chair, ice packs, and a small fan for Wen Xingze. They also asked if they could take his photo, promising not to share it without permission.
“Thank you, of course,” Wen Xingze nodded, and the young girl, still a bit starstruck, walked away.
Filming wuxia dramas in summer was somewhat torturous due to the thick costumes and lack of air conditioning outdoors. Yet, Wen Xingze didn’t feel hot at all. It was true. When he checked the Dragon Clan parents’ group chat on WeChat, they had indeed exchanged for a “120-minute cooldown card.”
—Although Wen Xingze couldn’t guess the specifics of the “Dragon Hatchling Development Program,” and he only had three hours a day to chat with the dragon parents, he often sensed their presence.
Like the sudden appearance of drinks and snacks, a good night’s sleep, a sudden stroke of luck, or the current situation where he didn’t feel tired or hot despite the scorching summer heat…
The dragon parents were incredibly gentle. They held the power to shape Wen Xingze’s life entirely, yet they chose a more caring and considerate way to accompany him silently.
Wen Xingze opened WeChat, and unsurprisingly, he had 99+ messages waiting for him.
[Jade: The system almost crashed from everyone’s screams just now.]
[Won’t Change My Name Until I Pass Dragon Language Level 8: Ahhh, our Emperor is too handsome! My heart is racing like crazy!]
[Astor: By the way, Your Majesty, the Dragon Clan filter has upgraded to level 2. Would you like to try it? Since we can now communicate with you through WeChat every night, we won’t apply filters to Wen Xingze without permission. After all, filters can significantly impact reality.]
Therefore, although the Dragon Clan filter has upgraded from “Milk Dragon Roar” to “Young Dragon Roar,” Wen Xingze hasn’t actually used it.
“Trying it won’t hurt,” Wen Xingze was curious, and considering Heng Zhi’s character was originally a dragon, perhaps using the filter would enhance the filming experience. “Let’s give it a shot.”
What Wen Xingze didn’t know was that upon receiving an affirmative response, the Dragon Clan’s main star erupted with earth-shaking roars. Passing starships diverted their routes in fear.
The mighty dragons had been waiting for this moment!
The emperor adorned with the Dragon Clan filter now belonged solely to them, fulfilling their dragon lives. They had made the right choice in selecting Astor as the acting clan leader.
And so, in the “Cub Raising Program,” the Dragon Clan filter was activated.
Initially, Wen Xingze didn’t notice any significant changes. It wasn’t until the female lead, Xu Qianqian, finished her scene and walked over to the rest area that she exclaimed, “Xiao Wen, did the makeup artist put colored contacts on you? They look amazing!”
Wen Xingze blinked. “Huh?”
Xu Qianqian held up a mirror for him to see.
Wen Xingze’s eyes were originally a light brown, but now they had transformed into a pure, golden hue reminiscent of fine wine. A halo surrounded his pupils, creating a captivating, otherworldly effect.
Wen Xingze raised an eyebrow. “?”
“Most people can’t handle this eye color,” Xu Qianqian observed his eyes for a moment, her expression as if she’d been enchanted.
Wen Xingze had a bad feeling.
Then he watched as Xu Qianqian removed a jade bracelet from her wrist and handed it to him. “Xiao Wen, are you hungry? I don’t have anything else here, but have this to fill your stomach.”
Wen Xingze’s confusion deepened. “???”
What terrified him was that he actually smelled something from the ivory jade bracelet — like freshly baked milk cookies, crispy and fragrant…
The Dragon Clan filter was more formidable than he’d imagined!
“No, thank you, Sister Xu Qianqian,” Wen Xingze suppressed his appetite, hoping Xu Qianqian would regain her senses.
She looked a bit disappointed but put the bracelet back on.
Internally, Wen Xingze was shocked. He took a gulp of mineral water, accidentally choking. Xu Qianqian patted his back, and he coughed up something unexpected — a small flame.
A flame…
Fire…?!
The director, cinematographer, and actors who had just finished a scene stared at him in shock.
Even the production crew filming him with their phones were wide-eyed.
Zheng Xiao, the director, spoke up, “Xiao Wen, are you—”
Wen Xingze replied, “Director Zheng, I can explain.”
“... A fire acrobat?” Zheng Xiao completed the sentence, eyeing him curiously.
Wen Xingze grinned. “Ah? Oh, yes! Life forced me into it, haha.”
“Can you perform another one?” Zheng Xiao mimicked a fire-breathing pose. “I’ve never seen an actor do fire acrobatics. I heard you can play the suona too — impressive!”
The previously lethargic crew members gathered around, intrigued.
Fire acrobatics weren’t unusual.
But witnessing a stunningly handsome young man perform fire acrobatics? That was truly rare.
Definitely unexpected.
Wen Xingze: “…”
Wen Xingze was at a loss for words.
After a moment of contemplation, he took a deep breath and exhaled, producing another small flame from his mouth. Surprisingly, the flame didn’t extinguish in the wind. It glowed a beautiful golden-red color before fading into sparkling embers.
Everyone: “Wow!!!”
Three seconds later, thunderous applause erupted on the set of Encounter with the Dragon.
________________________
That night, while the official Weibo account for Encounter with the Dragon released the highly anticipated makeup photos of Heng Zhi, they also shared a behind-the-scenes clip.
Initially, there was no doubt that Wen Xingze’s makeup photos elicited countless screams from fans:
[Oh my goodness, ‘using beauty to commit crimes’ takes on a whole new meaning! I’ve been shot straight through the heart — he’s so handsome!] (Note: 恃美行凶 [Shì měi xíngxiōng] = Relying on one's beautify appearance to commit crimes)
[At the scene, I’m the tassel on the sword of the little brother. Damn, isn’t he the same guy from the viral ‘the harder you work, the luckier you get’ meme? He’s incredibly divine even in ancient costume!]
[A walking weapon of mass beauty, and that gaze could kill!]
However, the tone of comments and shares quickly shifted: After viewing the makeup photos, fans were still unsatisfied and proceeded to watch the production bloopers. Then…
[??? Award for Most Confusing Actor Behavior]
[Hahaha, Zeze never disappoints! He can play the suona, ride a tricycle, and now he’s doing acrobatics — what a lovable idol!]
[I have to admit, his fire acrobatics are quite professional. Even my friend from the circus couldn’t find any flaws…]
[Let’s give him an award for professionalism!]
Since no one had seen an actor perform fire acrobatics before, especially not with such seamless execution. Combined with Wen Xingze’s stunning appearance, the topic gained attention. That night, it became a hot discussion among Encounter with the Dragon fans and even caught the interest of passersby. As a result, Wen Xingze’s fan base continued to grow…
________________________
At Shengtian Entertainment.
Lin Binlin carried late-night snacks to console Chi Yan, who was working overtime. His laughter jiggled his plump body: “Hahaha! How does Xiao Wen know fire acrobatics?”
“Oh, I remember you suddenly took a week off to teach and educate,” Lin Binlin grumbled, “but let’s not talk about that. But seriously, don’t you want to see it? His acrobatics are adorable and hilarious.”
Chi Yan: “No.”
“Come on, just a peek.” No matter what Lin Binlin said afterward, he received no response.
Chiyi glanced at WeChat — no unread messages. He switched back to the home screen, looking at the newly changed lock screen and wallpaper.
Lin Binlin persisted, unwilling to give up: “But your family's child is quite interesting. Even that meme from before—” (Note: Family's child because Wen Xingze is kinda like Chi Yan's protégé — someone he guided or supported)
Finally, Chi Yan corrected him:
“Not my family.” He paused and added two words, “For now.”
________________________
Main Star of the Blood Clan, Eternal Night.
The messenger, wearing a tall black hat and wielding a long staff, lowered the brim of his hat and hurried along the path.
Soon, he reached his destination — a castle perched atop a cliff, untouched by sunlight for years. The door was overgrown with vines and moss, and bats carried ethereal blue flame lanterns, providing illumination.
The thirteen clan princes had awakened, seated on their respective thrones. However, unlike their previous natural awakening, the messenger could clearly sense their restlessness.
“You’re late.” Lilith, one of the two female clan princes, scolded in a hushed voice. “One more second, and I’d have gouged out your eyeballs.”
The messenger shuddered, knowing her words held weight.
She was an exceptionally meticulous woman, her long hair perpetually coiled. Now, however, it hung disheveled over her shoulders. Her dark evening gown trailed on the ground as she hastily accepted the cylindrical letter from the messenger. Concealing half her face behind a black feather fan, she read its contents.
Silently, the small cylinder circulated among the thirteen clan princes.
Within it lay records of significant events occurring in the hidden cosmic realms, yet their focus was singular — a particular individual.
Suddenly.
Lilyth’s already ghostly complexion shifted dramatically. Flames of rage erupted around her, casting an eerie glow.
Even Soren, renowned for his rationality, scowled. The gem atop his staff, symbolizing authority, crumbled under his grip.
“What are those fools up to?” Soren’s teeth ground together, his sharp fangs and blood-red eyes tearing through his genteel facade.
In a mere three seconds, the princes revealed their wrath. The paper inscribed with “In the Cub Raising Program, the Emperor seems to have once resided in a basement with subpar conditions. See attached image” had vaporized in the intense heat.
The unbridled fury of the thirteen rulers, who governed this planet, sent creatures hanging from the palace’s uppermost tier fleeing. Bats scattered like a tidal wave toward the sky, emitting terrified, cackling screeches. Their palpable pressure, akin to a tangible force, rippled across the entire planet, leaving no room to breathe.
Outside the castle, countless coffins rustled as the agitated Blood Clan sensed the absence of their mark on the Emperor and began awakening…
The messenger’s legs gave way, and he sank back into his seat, desperately trying to diminish his presence.
The last time this happened, it was during the Emperor's expedition to explore new territories. The Emperor had been accidentally wounded by an unknown creature, lying in a sickbed for half a month. Back then, the princes had been equally furious, obliterating entire planets and organic life forms in the affected region overnight.
But this time was different. Even though the Blood Clan was virtually omnipotent, they couldn’t obliterate parallel universes to vent their anger. It was a feat even the silver dragon who was proficient in space magic couldn’t achieve.
'Don’t notice me, don’t notice me,' the messenger huddled in a corner of the castle, gazing at the apocalyptic scene before him, wishing he could vanish on the spot.
After what felt like an eternity, the cacophony outside finally ceased. Before the messenger could exhale in relief, Soren, the prince, stood before him, scrutinizing him from above.
The other twelve princes bore the same expression.
Messenger: “…?” Help!
A young boy’s voice came from the side. Clutching a stitched-up doll, he sat perched on a high ledge, his tone innocent: “You have a spot in the game’s closed beta test, right?”
Soren: “Hmph, quite audacious.”
“I— I…” Cold sweat covered the messenger’s entire back.
These monsters!
He wasn’t a blood clan member; he merely served as their messenger to the outside world. When the Cub Raising Program released a thousand beta test slots, he had managed to secure one. Wanting to continue nurturing the Emperor, he concealed this fact from the blood clan. But how did they find out?
Before losing consciousness, the messenger couldn’t unravel this mystery.
A well-trained servant dragged the unconscious messenger away. Then, the pale-skinned steward stepped forward, bowing to each prince in turn. He operated the terminal retrieved from the messenger.
Moments later, a light screen unfolded before the princes — the Cub Raising Program.
As the princes gazed at the figure on the screen, their previously volatile emotions visibly stabilized.
The initial view was distant, but it soon zoomed in.
When the young man with a teardrop mole at the corner of his eye appeared on the screen, the princes froze.
“…”
Then Lilith turned away, nervously and excitedly instructing her maid to tidy her long hair. The little boy in overalls adjusted his bowtie earnestly. Soren took a deep breath, straightening his posture.
“Your Highnesses,” the steward had no choice but to speak, subtly hinting, “this screen is merely a projection. His Majesty has not truly arrived.”
The Blood Clan, with their extended lifespans, had secluded themselves for centuries. Over eighty percent of them were ancient beings unfamiliar with modern technology. Seeing this projection, they believed it was the real arrival of their Emperor.
The princes: “…”
Their emotions waned.
The screen continued for a while, then suddenly, a system prompt sounded, accompanied by a pop-up window.Congratulations, parents! The side quest has been successfully matched! The first side quest is now available.
Side quest rewards differ from main quests — expect great surprises! Come and complete it!
The princes looked at the window:
[Side Quest]
Quest Description: As an idol, the Cub needs more exposure to attract brands and fans. Help him trend on social media! This side quest is time-limited, with a countdown of 120 hours.
Quest Progress: Trend on social media (0/1)
Quest Reward: Activation of the Light Tower Universe Express System (specific usage instructions will be provided upon launch)
________________________
The next day, Wen Xingze woke up at six in the morning.
His scenes today were mainly scheduled for the morning and noon. With no afternoon shoot, Xu Qianqian, who also had no work, offered to take him around the film and television city.
After finishing a scene with his co-star, Wen Xingze and Xu Qianqian sat down, chatting and sipping water.
Wen Xingze still wore the same attire as yesterday, his long hair secured in a jade crown. If the night scenes portrayed Heng Zhi’s hidden edge, in the sunlight, he mostly appeared as a refined young man. He wouldn’t reveal his other side to the public.
“Seriously, Xiao Ze, you’re too good-looking,” Xu Qianqian, with her gentle classical beauty — oval face, willow-leaf eyebrows — winked at Wen Xingze. “Do you want to skip twenty years of hard work and come to my room tonight?” (Note: Xiao Ze, Xiao Wen, Zeze = all nicknames for Wen Xingze)
Wen Xingze’s eyes gradually revealed a hint of panic: “Sister.”
“—To play cards! What are you thinking? Hahaha! Your luck is great, right? Let’s invite Director Zheng too. His luck at cards is always terrible, and he keeps losing.” Xu Qianqian was clearly teasing Wen Xingze, slapping her thigh as she laughed heartily.
Wen Xingze: “…” This is the first time I’ve encountered a female celebrity who jokes about such things!
However, it was true that Xu Qianqian liked Wen Xingze. After all, he was good-looking, talented, and easy to get along with. Which older sister wouldn’t like that?
Wen Xingze didn’t have many acquaintances on set, except for Zheng Xiao. But the director couldn’t be with the actors all the time. Fortunately, Xu Qianqian was warm-hearted and gradually helped Wen Xingze integrate with everyone.
He was truly grateful to her.
Both this afternoon and evening featured scenes from the male lead’s memories. Wen Xingze and Xu Qianqian had time off. Xu Qianqian remembered her promise to take Wen Xingze around the film and television city, and sure enough, she found him around two or three o’clock.
Xu Qianqian’s assistant drove them to the location. Before getting out of the car, she said, “Xiao Wen, are you ready? Wear your mask.”
Wen Xingze: “Sister Qianqian, aren’t you wearing sunglasses?”
And Xu Qianqian had only brought one assistant, which was completely different from what Wen Xingze imagined for a female celebrity’s entourage. She didn’t even wear sunglasses.
“No need,” Xu Qianqian waved her hand. “Oh, Xiao Wen, you’re adorable. Do you think everyone is like Chi Yan? I’m not as famous as you think. Over forty percent of my Weibo followers are fake.”
Assistant: “…”
Wen Xingze: “…”
Although she said that, Xu Qianqian was still a highly popular star. Just walking down the street, they encountered two or three excited fans asking for autographs.
What surprised Wen Xingze even more was that two fans were specifically there for him:
“Are you Wen Xingze? I really like you. Can you give me an autograph? Sorry, I’m a bit nervous.”
Wen Xingze: “Of course, and honestly, I’m a bit nervous too.”
Fan: “…”
Xu Qianqian: “Hahaha!”
Wen Xingze wasn’t exaggerating. It was the first time he’d been stopped by fans on the street. Now, random people recognized him? Holding a pen, he hadn’t even practiced his signature. His earnest handwriting resembled that of a middle school student practicing calligraphy.
Both fans were girls, staring at him excitedly and shyly. After signing for the first one, the second girl pulled out what looked like a poster: “Could you sign this? Thank you!”
The poster featured Wen Xingze’s famous three-panel meme: “The harder you work, the luckier you get.”
Wen Xingze: “…Sure.”
Xu Qianqian: “Hahaha!”
It was the first time he’d signed on a meme. Wen Xingze thought that a celebrity’s life wasn’t all that different from an ordinary person’s. Xu Qianqian was actually a down-to-earth girl who loved dolls, shopping for clothes, and trying out different lipsticks.
After dropping Xu Qianqian and her assistant back at the hotel, Wen Xingze wandered around on his own. This film and television city wasn’t Hengdian, but it was close to the capital, so transportation was convenient. Still, it was his first time here.
At a corner, there was a vendor selling sugar-coated haws. The thin old man had seven strings left, so Wen Xingze bought them all.
He held seven strings of sugar-coated haws, unsure of what to do. Discarding them would be wasteful, and walking around like this would surely make people mistake him for a hawker selling the treats.
Before he could turn the corner, he suddenly heard a timid voice nearby:
“Excuse me, are you Chi Yan?” The voice sounded like a high school student. “I really like you. Could you give me an autograph?”
Wen Xingze: “…”
He considered stopping, but he had already taken half a step forward. Sure enough, he saw a tall figure.
The man’s profile faced Wen Xingze, wearing a mask. His cold, ink-black eyes seemed distracted, as if searching for someone.
It really was Chi Yan!
Why wasn’t Chi Yan wearing glasses? Where were his assistant and manager?
“It’s me,” Chi Yan whispered. “Pen and paper, don’t tell anyone.”
Wen Xingze: “…”
Confirming that Chi Yan wasn’t wearing glasses or contacts, Wen Xingze noticed the high school student tremblingly pulling out a pen and paper, excitedly glancing back.
After all, Wen Xingze had attended Chi Yan’s acting classes for seven days. He knew how severe Chi Yan’s nearsightedness was — without glasses, he couldn’t distinguish people from animals three meters away.
They stood at the alley entrance, separated by a road from a crowd of high school students. They all wore the same school uniform, probably trying their luck here after school.
At first glance, there were over a hundred of them, eager to try their luck. It seemed they’d sent a scout ahead.
Wen Xingze: “…”
Chi Yan, seemingly oblivious, absentmindedly signed autographs for the high school students, then handed back their notebooks.
Wen Xingze couldn’t just stand by and watch.
“Classmate,” Wen Xingze walked up to Chi Yan, urgently adopting the persona of Chi Yan’s manager. He addressed the high school student, “I apologize, but my artist isn’t accustomed to interacting with strangers. Could you please inform your classmates…”
Chi Yan blinked, looking down at Wen Xingze.
Wen Xingze’s acting skills had improved since their last encounter. The high school student hesitated, taking a couple of steps back as instructed, turning to communicate with the others.
In the blink of an eye:
“Teacher Chi!” Wen Xingze, holding the seven strings of haws, grabbed Chi Yan’s hand and pulled him into a frantic sprint. “Run!”
The high school students finally realized they’d been fooled.
As Wen Xingze and Chi Yan dashed through the alley, rounding two corners, they heard resounding screams behind them:
“Wow!”
“Ahhhh!”
“Chi Yan!!!”
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