Reborn, I Became a Male God - Chapter 6-10

Jing Ling turned to leave as soon as he finished speaking.

 

“Stop right there!” Miss Zhang called out to him. “Hey kid, did you misunderstand something? I just heard you were good at your craft, so I asked Dong San to bring you up. What did you think I was going to do?”

Jing Ling turned back to look at her and very straightforwardly admitted his mistake and apologized, his tone sounding quite sincere. “I see, then I misunderstood you, Miss Zhang. Sorry about that, I hope you won’t take it to heart.” After a brief pause, he continued, “If there’s nothing else, I’ll head back down first. The guests at the bar are still waiting.”

 

After speaking, he gave a slight bow and turned to walk out the door.

 

This time, Miss Zhang didn’t stop him. Her gaze followed him until his figure disappeared around the entrance, then she withdrew her eyes, curved her lips slightly, picked up her phone, and dialed Dong San’s number. After two rings, it connected.

 

“Come over.” She hung up after just those two words.

 

Dong San arrived quickly, less than a minute after the call ended. He politely knocked on the door and only pushed it open after receiving Miss Zhang’s permission.

 

“Miss Zhang, what can I do for you?” Dong San said with a smile. Although he didn’t know what had happened, he had bumped into Jing Ling at the corner of the second floor on his way over. Jing Ling had said to him, “Miss Zhang might not be in a good mood right now, Dong San, please bear with her.” At that moment, Dong San was a bit stunned—what did he mean she might not be in a good mood? What did he mean by bearing with her? Jing Ling said only that and walked away. And since Miss Zhang had just called him, Dong San hadn’t dared to linger and ask for details, and had come upstairs with a nervous heart.

 

Miss Zhang pointed to the seat beside her. “Sit.”

 

Dong San quickly moved over and cautiously sat down beside her.

 

Miss Zhang took a cigarette out of her handbag, placed it to her lips, and Dong San, quick on the uptake, took out a lighter and lit it for her. She took a drag, exhaled a small smoke ring, and with a voice veiled in emotion, said, “Where did you find that kid?”

 

Dong San felt an uneasy premonition and cautiously asked, “Did Jing Ling upset you, Miss Zhang? Let me apologize on his behalf right now. He just started today and doesn’t know the rules yet. Please be magnanimous and don’t hold it against him!”

 

Having been in the business for a long time, Dong San knew the ins and outs well. In situations like this, an early apology was rarely the wrong move.

 

Miss Zhang shot him a look. “Cut the nonsense. Tell me, where did you find him?”

 

She didn’t seem angry, so Dong San was unsure what to make of it. He obediently explained Jing Ling’s background and ended with, “Later, he requested to be paid daily. Maybe he’s short on money.”

 

“Short on money?” Miss Zhang laughed as if she’d just heard a joke. “Dong San, is something wrong with your eyes? Can someone with that kind of poise come from an ordinary background? Do you know what he said to me just now? ‘You’re very beautiful, but not my type.’ I hadn’t even said anything, and he already knew what I was thinking. I told him he was overthinking it, and he immediately apologized sincerely, not a hint of reluctance in his tone. To be able to handle things like that at his age—how could he be just anyone? Judging by his appearance, he probably isn’t very old. Have you seen his ID? Is he even an adult? Where’s he from?”

 

Dong San scratched his head awkwardly. “Could he be some rich kid out for a taste of ordinary life? But when he came in this afternoon, his clothes really were just average stuff. As for his ID, I haven’t had a chance to check it yet. Want me to ask him later?” At the time, he’d just been excited to get a star attraction working the floor and completely forgot about the ID.

 

Miss Zhang waved him off. “Go, go, what’s your brain even for? Asking now, after all this, just screams suspicion.”

 

Dong San scratched his head. “Then what should I do?”

 

Miss Zhang said, “Leave him alone. Pretend nothing ever happened.”

 

She knew what kind of person Dong San was. Before she even arrived, he surely told Jing Ling she was an important guest. But from start to finish, Jing Ling had maintained a calm and proper demeanor, his smile appropriate. Even when he sensed her gaze, he wasn’t embarrassed or angry. A person’s looks are innate, but poise and refinement come from upbringing. The social circle in Cloud City wasn’t big—she had a good grasp on the kind of people in it. There were no prominent families named Jing, and she hadn’t heard of any household with such an outstanding young man, so she was convinced Jing Ling must be from out of town.

 

“What a pity.” If he were just an ordinary kid, she could have taken him in, but for someone whose background was unclear, the best option was to leave him alone.

 

What Miss Zhang didn’t know was that all of this had been deliberately orchestrated by Jing Ling, to guide her thinking in the direction he wanted, in order to achieve his own goal.

 

Having been through many different worlds, Jing Ling had seen all kinds of situations. The way Miss Zhang looked at him—he had seen that gaze in the eyes of many others before, and he didn’t like being looked at that way. But given his current circumstances, avoiding trouble was better than inviting it. So he had no choice but to guide others’ thoughts in such a way that they would mistakenly assume he came from an unusual background, to reduce unnecessary complications.

 

—

 

Business at the bar was unprecedentedly good. Originally, it was scheduled to close at 2 a.m., but they ended up staying open for an extra hour. Even so, there were still many customers reluctant to leave. Dong San had no choice but to delay for over half an hour more, and after much persuading, he finally managed to clear the place.

 

While the others were tidying up, Dong San called Jing Ling into the back lounge to settle his pay. “Base pay is 120, drink commission is 2,850, I’ll round it up and give you 3,000 total. Do you want cash or a transfer?”

 

As previously agreed, the part-time pay was 120 per day plus 5% commission on premium alcohol sales. Which meant that in just one night, the drinks sold through Jing Ling amounted to 57,000. And that was just the premium ones. In a place like Cloud City, this number was already impressive. But in fact, 90% of that 57,000 came from high-profile clients Dong Ge had invited—Miss Zhang was one of them, and later Sister Rong also showed up.

 

Thanks to the earlier experience with Miss Zhang, Dong San made sure to clarify the situation with Sister Rong beforehand, so there was no repeat of what had happened before. Sister Rong was cooperative, asked Dong San to clear a spot at the bar, and sat there watching Jing Ling. She even playfully teased him a bit—asked him to sing a song, promising to open a bottle and treat everyone if he did. Jing Ling didn’t mind and sang one for her.

 

“Cash, I didn’t bring my bank card.” Jing Ling deliberately made it sound vague.

 

As expected, Dong San was misled. Thinking back to his conversation with Miss Zhang, he felt sure he had guessed right—this was just a runaway rich kid here for the experience, with his credit cards cut off, and now performing at a bar to get by.

 

“Alright!” Dong San agreed cheerfully, counted out 3,000 yuan in cash and handed it over, while casually asking, “By the way, Jing Ling, you look a bit young. Did you bring your ID?”

 

“Thanks, Dong San,” Jing Ling accepted the money calmly. “I’m of age, but I forgot my ID. Maybe another day. Why do you suddenly ask?”

 

That reaction was exactly what Miss Zhang had described. Dong San became even more convinced he was right.

 

“No reason, just asking. You know how it is—places like bars can get into trouble if the authorities decide to take a close look.”

 

It was around 4 a.m. by then. The bar was mostly cleaned up, and whatever remained could wait until the afternoon reopening. Everyone said their goodbyes and clocked out.

It was still dark out, too early to go home. Jing Ling rented a short-stay hotel room nearby, took a quick shower, and napped on the bed. He woke up around 8 a.m., tidied up, checked out, and went straight home.

 

After a few transfers, he arrived home around 1 p.m.

 

The weather was clear and sunny. Jing Qiu had stripped the bed sheets and duvet covers to wash them. When Jing Ling got home, she was standing on a stool, getting ready to hang them up to dry.

“Let me do it, sis. You come down,” Jing Ling walked over and said.

 

Upon hearing him, Jing Qiu quickly turned her head, but because she was flustered, she didn’t plant her foot properly and fell backward. Just as she was about to hit the ground, Jing Ling reacted swiftly and caught her. One arm around her shoulders, the other under her knees—classic idol-drama princess carry. Though he didn’t spin around, he quickly set her down and asked with concern, “Are you okay?”

 

Jing Qiu shook her head, a bit embarrassed. “I’m fine.” Then she asked, “Did you have fun hanging out with your classmates?”

 

“I’ll tell you in a bit,” Jing Ling said as he walked over, bent down, pulled a duvet cover from the bucket, and easily tossed it over the clothesline, spreading it out. After hanging everything, he sat with Jing Qiu under the eaves, enjoying the breeze and telling her the truth about everything.

 

Jing Qiu was both moved and a bit angry—partly out of concern for his safety, and partly because, in her old-fashioned mindset, bars and entertainment venues weren’t considered decent places.

 

But Jing Ling eventually convinced her. He even described a bright future they could look forward to.

“I’m just doing part-time work for half a month. Once the results are out and I submit my university application, we’ll head to the capital, find a place to rent, and when the acceptance letter comes, I’ll head straight to the school to register.”

 

Jing Qiu, annoyed, said, “You don’t even have your scores yet, and you’re so sure you’ll get into a university in the capital!”

 

And with that, the matter was dropped.

 

Half a month passed quickly. After receiving his final day’s pay, Jing Ling said goodbye to Dong San. The latter tried to get him to stay, but seeing that Jing Ling was firm, he didn’t press the issue. The exam results came out—out of 750, Jing Ling scored 698. This was a score he had carefully calculated based on past admission lines and mock exam stats across the province. He made sure not to be the top scorer while still staying within the recruitment range of the top two universities. 

 

The outcome was as expected—the top science score was 725, with three students scoring above 700. Jing Ling ranked sixth in the entire province.

 

Even so, this caused quite a stir in Qingshan Town. From barely reaching the second-tier university line to entering a top school—teachers and classmates who had shared a roof with him for three years were all stunned.

 

Jing Qiu was stunned too, unable to believe it was real. She felt like she was dreaming.

 

Among everyone, the calmest was Jing Ling. After getting his results, he immediately started thinking about how to fill out his application.

 

But before he could decide, a small twist occurred. The rich guy who had shown up at the school gate before the exams with the wrong ‘delivery’ suddenly popped up at his home.

 

Jing Qiu, unaware of the background, thought it was one of Jing Ling’s clients. After making tea with their home-roasted leaves and handing it over, she left the room to give them privacy.

Jing Ling asked bluntly, “Speak. What is it this time?”

 

Young Master Jiang, clearly aware that showing up unannounced like this was inappropriate, looked a bit awkward. “Well, my sister would like to invite you to act in a TV drama.”

 

Chapter 7

“I think I might have misheard you. Could you please repeat that?”

 

Act in a TV drama? What kind of joke was this! There were countless actors and models in the entertainment industry, both professionally trained and amateur—every type you could think of. Was it really necessary to go out of the way to find a complete stranger they’d only met once?

Jiang Shao braced himself and repeated, “My sister wants you to act in a TV drama.”

 

Jiang Shao’s full name was Jiang Sicheng, and he had a younger sister named Jiang Sijin. The Jiang family’s base was in Lanzhou. They originally made their fortune in oil and, after amassing immense wealth, set their sights on military and political circles. Today, the Jiang family was unquestionably the top-tier elite in the Western Administrative Region. Jiang Shao’s father was the fourth among five brothers—no girls at all. All the brothers eventually married, but whether due to family genetics or something else, the next generation also produced only boys. The old man of the family had become completely numb to the stream of grandsons being born. So, when Jiang Shao’s mother was pregnant with her second child, everyone figured—it’s probably another boy.

 

But when Jiang Sijin was born, the whole family exploded with joy. A group of tall, burly men gathered around the infant incubator, grinning so wide their mouths nearly reached their ears—it was a chilling sight. Even the usually stern and unsmiling patriarch was nearly beaming.

 

This little sister of Jiang Shao was not only *his* sister, but the princess of the entire family—spoiled from head to toe. Anything she wanted, she got, often with a crowd rushing to fulfill her wishes.

 

Jiang Sijin was 20 this year and a sophomore at Imperial Capital University. Around April last year, on a whim, she wrote a story and published it on Green River Literature. She signed a contract with the site and joined their VIP system. The stats were pretty good, though she didn’t care much for the money—she just enjoyed interacting with readers.

 

Early this year, a palace intrigue drama adapted from a Lǜjiāng novel became explosively popular, triggering a frenzy of IP adaptations. The site started selling off TV rights left and right. Jiang Sijin hadn’t paid much attention at first—until one day, readers started discussing on her Weibo how amazing her story would be if it were adapted into a drama, though the production would be difficult. A girl casually commented, but a troll named “Cloud” barged in to ruin the vibe, mocking them for dreaming of an adaptation when the “trash novel” hadn’t even sold its rights.

 

And so, a heated flame war began. The troll fought with readers from noon till night, racking up over a thousand comments under that post. Jiang Sijin read through them all and finally replied:

“Sorry, but this ‘trash novel’ *is* getting adapted.”

 

The troll, who had just started to quiet down, jumped back into the fray like he’d been injected with adrenaline. Jiang Sijin ignored him and chose to slap him in the face with action.

 

She replied to that post around 9 PM. The next day at 11 AM, the novel appeared on Lǜjiāng’s film and TV rights sales list.

 

Readers were stunned.

 

But the troll’s skin was thick. He kept stirring things up in the comments, saying that selling the rights meant nothing—lots of scripts get bought every year, but only a few ever get greenlit. Most end up gathering dust.

 

Just as the readers were about to go at him again, Jiang Sijin replied once more:

 

“Sorry, but this ‘trash novel’ is about to be greenlit.”

 

About a week later, the script was officially filed with the National Administration.

 

Clown: This slap came too fast—I can’t even keep up with the drama!

 

While readers knelt in awe, they also began discussing how the story could be filmed. It was a typical historical fantasy, nothing too difficult in terms of production. The real problem was the casting—those godlike character settings, especially the male lead—felt impossible to match in the entire entertainment industry.

 

“Sorry, could you skip to the point? I’m really curious—what kind of male lead is it that no one in the industry can play?” Jing Ling interrupted Jiang Shao’s long monologue.

“Uh…” Jiang Shao twitched at the corners of his mouth, pulled out his phone, tapped around, and handed it over. “You better read it yourself.”

 

Jing Ling took the phone and glanced at the title: Song of Eternal Joy?

 

Jiang Shao nodded, “Yeah.”

 

So Jing Ling opened it and skimmed for about ten minutes, getting the gist of the story, before returning the phone calmly. “It *is* kind of… intense.”

 

To summarize: the story featured a male lead disguised as a woman and a female lead disguised as a man, focused on palace intrigue and political strategy. The male lead, Zhao Zizhen, was the son of a wrongfully convicted official. His father was framed and died in prison shortly after his birth. To protect him, his mother claimed he was a girl, and he lived under that identity for sixteen years. The female lead, Li Yu, was born to the empress and was the emperor’s first child. When the current emperor was still the third prince, he competed with the eldest prince for the throne. As their rivalry intensified and the old emperor’s health declined, the third prince took a bold risk—falsifying his child’s gender. By claiming he had a grandson first, he stepped over the eldest prince and seized the throne.

 

The male lead, as the son of a disgraced official, had to hide his identity to survive, while the female lead, publicly known as the emperor’s eldest son, could never truly become crown prince. They met by chance, became close due to shared experiences, and eventually teamed up to pursue their ambitions.

 

Though the novel centered on a female lead, the political intrigue was written with grandeur, tightly plotted and logical. The only real complaint was how *overpowered* the protagonists were—especially the gender disguises. The male lead was a breathtaking beauty as a woman, and the female lead was dashingly handsome as a man—yet no one around them ever suspected a thing. Add to that the dramatic ending: the female lead overcomes her brothers to claim the throne, becoming the first empress of her dynasty, while the male lead clears his father’s name and wishes to retire peacefully. But the empress refuses to let him go—she not only keeps him but insists on making him her consort.

 

What began as mutual support turns into conflict. The male lead refuses her again and again until she locks him away. On his birthday during the sixth year of his captivity, she visits and asks once more if he’s changed his mind. She plans to set him free if he says no.

 

To her surprise, he agrees.

 

They marry soon after. On their wedding night, after drinking the ceremonial wine, he takes the white jade hairpin he once gave her and plunges it into her chest.

 

The end.

 

After finishing, Jing Ling felt slightly conflicted and puzzled. “Why does it feel like the tone of the beginning and end is totally different from the middle?”

 

“You mean the political intrigue parts?” Jiang Shao asked, then continued before Jing Ling could reply. “Those were guided by the old man and his advisors.”

 

“Xiao Jin has been looking for an actor all this time. At first, the whole family helped keep an eye out, but no one fit the role. Eventually, everyone sort of forgot. It wasn’t until I heard her talking about it again that I remembered—and thought you might be a good fit. So, what do you think? Interested? I know the role is difficult, but we’ll definitely make it worth your while financially.”

 

To be honest, pulling off a woman-disguised-as-a-man was relatively easier. But a man convincingly disguised as a woman? That raised the bar significantly. Sure, the industry had plenty of actors—finding someone wasn’t impossible. But meeting all the requirements was another story. Most likely, the Jiang family princess simply refused to compromise, which is why no one had been cast even now.

 

Chapter 8

 

Jing Ling’s condition was very simple—he wanted a university admission spot, and it was for Jing Qiu.

Although Jiang Shao had just given a lengthy speech without mentioning much about the Jiang family, the fact that their daughter could casually spend a substantial amount of money to shoot a TV drama made it clear that they were at the very least a very wealthy family. Therefore, while browsing through his sister’s background, Jing Ling tried searching for the Jiang family online. After a simple process of association and elimination, he could basically confirm that even if the Jiang family wasn’t top-tier aristocracy, they wouldn’t be far off.

 

For a family like that, getting a university admission spot—even for the most prestigious university in the country—would be a piece of cake. What’s more, Jing Ling wasn’t greedy; he didn’t aim for the country’s top universities. He just wanted an admission to an ordinary university. If it could be a tier-one school, great. If it was a tier-two, he’d still be satisfied.

 

Jing Qiu had to drop out of school and go to work after finishing middle school because the family had no money. She’s already 22 years old now—it was impossible to make her go back and attend high school for another three years before taking the college entrance exam. Even if she could manage to get in, three years of high school and four years of college meant she’d be nearly 30 when she graduated. It simply wasn’t necessary.

 

It was precisely because of this that Jing Ling wanted a university admission spot. This spot didn’t only represent an admission letter—it also included the academic records of three years of high school.

 

Of course, this was just his thought; he hadn’t talked to Jing Qiu about it yet. He didn’t want to make the decision for her directly. This was her life, and how she chose to live it should be up to her. He only wanted to offer her a better choice. If she wanted to continue studying, then this admission spot would be ready for her. If she wanted to work, he would also help her find a stable, easy, and simple job.

 

“I already know what I want specifically. I’ll let you know after I decide—maybe I won’t even need it. Don’t worry, I know what’s appropriate and what’s not,” Jing Ling told Jiang Shao.

 

Upon hearing this, Jiang Shao scrutinized Jing Ling suspiciously. He admitted, this face in front of him was indeed very perfect—but also very young. Could such a kid who had just walked out of a high school gate really understand boundaries?

 

Jiang Shao had doubts, but he still agreed in the end. Because whether Jing Ling understood or not, the Jiang family would make him understand when the time came.

 

The two sides happily reached a cooperation.

 

Jiang Shao was eager to take credit with his sister and couldn’t wait to bring the person back. He directly called Jiang Sijin on video.

 

“Brother, what’s up?” A soft, girlish voice came through the receiver.

 

“Xiao Jin, I’m telling you, I found the person you were looking for! Hold on, let me show you!” As he spoke, he turned the camera toward Jing Ling and introduced, “This is my sister, Jiang Sijin. Xiao Jin, this is Jing Ling.”

 

“Hello, Miss Jiang,” Jing Ling greeted her with a smile.

 

On the other side of the phone screen, the background looked like a pink little castle, adorned with lace and bows, exuding a sense of delicacy and fantasy—it was obviously a girl’s room. The girl on the screen had waist-length hair, sleek and black, a palm-sized face, delicate features, and fair skin. Her gaze was fixed intently on the screen, her small mouth slightly open in astonishment. After a while, a high-pitched scream burst from the phone, “Aaaaahhh! So handsome! God-tier looks—marry me!!”

 

Jiang Shao’s face instantly darkened. As someone familiar with major live-streaming platforms, he naturally knew Jiang Sijin was just joking, but he was still annoyed. He suddenly didn’t feel like taking Jing Ling back anymore. But it was just a passing thought—Jiang Sijin had already seen him, and even if he backed out now, the rest of the family would help find him. In that case, not only would he fail to win his sister’s favor, but he might also be resented. He wasn’t about to make such a losing deal.

 

Jiang Sijin fangirled for quite a while before she calmed down. She returned to her usual well-behaved manner, her cheeks slightly flushed, making her look even cuter. She chatted with Jing Ling for a while and asked for his phone number and QQ. In the end, Jiang Shao couldn’t stand it anymore and forcibly ended the call under the pretense of poor signal. Only then did the conversation stop.

 

Jiang Shao glared at Jing Ling viciously, “Don’t even think about hitting on Xiao Jin!”

 

Jing Ling couldn’t help but laugh, “Okay.”

 

Jiang Shao stayed for a meal. Since they didn’t know there would be a guest, the family hadn’t prepared much food. Going to the town to buy some would be troublesome, and the ingredients wouldn’t be fresh. In the end, they barely managed to make four dishes and a soup. Jing Qiu was initially worried that Jiang Shao wouldn’t like the food, but after seeing him eat two bowls of rice and drink half a bowl of soup, she finally relaxed. This also gave Jing Ling a better impression of him. Regardless of whether Jiang Shao actually liked the food Jing Qiu made, just the fact that he didn’t show any dislike or reluctance and naturally finished the meal showed a level of grace that was very admirable.

 

After the meal, Jiang Shao left, but not to return to Lanzhou, because he was going to take Jing Ling back with him, and Jing Ling needed to finish filling out his college application before he could leave. So Jiang Shao could only wait in Yuncheng for the time being.

 

After walking him part of the way, Jing Ling returned. Jing Qiu had just finished cleaning up the table and was getting ready to wash the dishes. He rolled up his sleeves to help her. In no time, the dishes were washed and neatly arranged. Then the two of them left the kitchen and sat under the eaves to cool off.

 

“Sis, do you want to go to university?” Jing Ling brought up the topic while enjoying the cool breeze.

 

What answered him was a long silence. Then Jing Qiu said, in an indifferent tone, that she didn’t want to, saying that her grades were poor when she was in school, and the teachers had said she might not even get into high school. In fact, her grades had always been very good—not because she had great talent, but because she worked hard enough. Someone who put that much effort into studying, how could they not want to go to university? But at this point, it was no use saying any more. She didn’t know why Jing Ling suddenly asked this question, but she didn’t want him to carry any emotional burden, so she lied. After all, when she graduated from middle school, Jing Ling was still in elementary school, and with so many years having passed, he surely wouldn’t remember.

 

Jing Ling didn’t say anything about it. He just followed up by asking what kind of work she liked. She thought seriously for a long time and then shook her head. “I don’t even know what I can do. I went out to work right after graduating middle school. Back then, when I had time off and went shopping with others, I envied those girls sitting in offices. But even if I was given that kind of job, I wouldn’t be able to manage it.”

 

The brother and sister talked for a long time, from dusk all the way into the late night. The moon hung high in the sky, and stars sparkled all over. In the end, Jing Ling called Jiang Shao and stated his condition. The latter was quite surprised, as if he hadn’t expected his demand to be so simple. Then he readily agreed and told Jing Ling to pick a school and major, let him know, and then just wait for the admission letter.

 

Jing Qiu almost cried on the spot. Jing Ling reached out, pulled her into his arms, and let her cry her heart out. This girl, who never once complained no matter how hard or exhausting her days were, now cried a total mess in his embrace. In the end, her voice became hoarse from crying, and exhausted, she fell asleep leaning on him.

 

Jing Ling carefully carried her to bed, covered her with a blanket, and then returned to his own room to rest.

 

In the following days, Jing Ling kept thinking about which school to choose for Jing Qiu. Taking her own thoughts into account, he finally settled on Yizhou Normal University in the Southern Administrative Region. Jing Qiu wanted to become a teacher—she told Jing Ling this herself.

 

As for Jing Ling, following the principle of proximity, he filled out his application for Yizhou University of Transportation next to the teacher’s college. Of course, it couldn’t compare with Shuimu or Dida (top universities), but it was still in the top 10 nationwide. He selected software engineering as his major—because he could complete the credits with his eyes closed. He just wanted something simple and convenient.

 

Jing Qiu almost started a fight with him over it, but was soon amused by one of his remarks: “Actually, which school and what major don’t really matter. I’m about to enter the entertainment industry and become a big star. I’ll need to take time off for filming and all that. Those two strict schools like Shuimu and Dida would actually be inconvenient.”

 

From the perspective of people at the bottom of society, studying and going to school was all about getting a good job in the future—which ultimately meant making money. And the profession of being a celebrity seemed glamorous and easy, yet brought in a lot of money. Jing Qiu knew nothing about the industry and was easily persuaded by Jing Ling.

 

“Yes, Xiao Ling, you’re so good-looking—you’ll definitely become a big star!”

 

And with that, the matter was happily resolved. As for the stir Jing Ling’s application later caused at the school, he didn’t care, because by then, he and Jing Qiu had already left with Jiang Shao for the film base.

 

——

 

As the saying goes, money can make the devil push the millstone. Although it was Jiang Si Jin’s first time entering the film industry, with money paving the way, the *Chang Le* drama crew took less than half a month to go from establishment to normal operation. Casting for the female lead, female support, male support, and so on was completed within a month. Everything was ready except for the male lead. However, that one role caused a bottleneck for nearly two months.

 

When the crew chatted about it, they all shared one consensus: if a suitable candidate couldn’t be found, the investor would definitely dissolve the team without hesitation. Everyone had adopted a wait-and-see attitude, just passing time. Even if the crew disbanded the next day, no one would be surprised. After all, the investor’s casting standard was just too absurd—someone who had to look stunningly beautiful in female attire and handsome in male attire, and had to be so convincing in disguise that the audience couldn’t tell it was a man cross-dressing. Where would they find such a person?

 

Everyone thought it was impossible. Even the director and assistant director had started looking into other scripts, ready to disband at any moment.

 

Against this backdrop, one night, the director received a call from the investor, instructing the crew to get ready because the male lead had been found. They were heading over to the set, and after the costume fitting, they could begin filming.

 

The director’s first thought was that he had received a prank call from a fake investor.

 

The next day, a little after 10 a.m., the whole crew finally saw the so-called fake investor and the so-called fake male lead she had found.

 

It was a boy with a slender yet upright figure, somewhere between a teenager and a young man. He had a nearly perfect face, with exquisitely flawless features. Even though he wore ordinary, casual clothes, he stood out like a glowing figure in the night. Even in a crowd, he was someone you’d notice at first glance.

 

The whole crew: We might be living on a fake Earth—how could someone so perfectly meet the requirements even exist?

 

Chapter 9

 

The crew truly hadn’t expected the investor to actually find the male lead, so when they saw Jing Ling, aside from falling silent in awe, most of them subconsciously had one thought pop into their heads:

So… the production doesn’t have to be disbanded?

 

But that was just a habit from long-term uncertainty—no one was truly hoping for the crew to break up. After all, they all relied on this line of work to make a living. No matter which crew they worked for, the job was the same, and the pay didn’t vary much. Under such conditions, as long as the work could go on, no one really wanted to switch employers. What’s more, the investor for this drama was extremely generous. Even though the Song of Eternal Joy production team hadn’t been able to officially begin filming, not only were wages paid as usual, but three meals a day were provided without fail, all maintained to the original agreed-upon standard.

 

It could be said that upon seeing the investor had brought in a male lead, many people breathed a sigh of relief.

 

Although the Song of Eternal Joy production had been delayed due to the long search for a male lead, during this waiting period, the director and other staff had already completed all the preparatory work. Costumes, makeup, props, and set arrangements for the female lead, female support, and male support were all ready.

 

Just as the saying goes: everything was prepared, except for the male lead. Now that Jing Ling had arrived, the crew could finally prepare to start filming.

 

However, the film and television industry had always been superstitious. The first day of filming must fall on an auspicious date. After receiving the call from the investor, the director checked and found that the Saturday three days later was a perfect all-purpose lucky day. The time before that would be used to finalize Jing Ling’s styling and make any necessary adjustments to the costumes.

 

Then the director thought of the most critical issue. When Jing Ling was taken into the makeup room for styling, he asked the investor—Jiang Sijin, “Has Jing Ling read the script?”

 

Jiang Sijin replied calmly, “I only just found him recently. I haven’t had time to give him the script yet.”

The director felt like he was about to lose it. Then he heard Jiang Sijin add, “Don’t worry, just take your time filming.”

 

You’re the one with money, you’re willful, you make the rules. If you’re not in a rush, why should I be? It’s not my money being burned anyway. With that mentality, the director decided to skip over that issue and began discussing other matters with Jiang Sijin.

 

“He’s coming, he’s coming!” About two hours later, the door to the makeup room finally opened. A crowd had already gathered outside, all waiting to see the final styling. Because in the early stages of the drama, the male lead takes on the female lead’s script, playing a graceful and gentle noble lady—a role with a very high level of difficulty. Although everyone had already seen Jing Ling’s appearance and believed that such a pretty face should have no problem in female costume, nothing counted until they saw it with their own eyes.

 

The Song of Eternal Joy crew had rented space at Cloud Film City. Cloud Film City was located at the intersection of the Central Administrative Region, Eastern Administrative Region, and Southern Administrative Region. It was the largest period drama film base in the Republic. Seventy percent of period dramas broadcast each year were shot there. It was a highly professional film base, with living and filming areas separated. The filming areas could replicate ancient architecture with over 90% accuracy. Power lines and lighting equipment were installed extremely discreetly, completely invisible at first glance.

The crew was currently stationed in the filming area, so even the exterior of the makeup room looked like an ancient-style loft.

 

The carved wooden door opened from within, and out walked a young woman wearing a water-green crossed-collar ruqun (Traditional Chinese clothing). Her long hair was styled into a lofty cloud bun adorned with a few round, lustrous white pearls—no other accessories. Her brows were shaped like distant mountains, her eyes clear as autumn water, her nose straight and refined, her lips a vivid red like peach blossoms in full bloom in March. Her neck was slender, and the skin exposed outside her collar was fair and delicate, evoking the phrase “skin like jade, bones like ice.”

 

Everyone was stunned. It took them a long time to snap out of it, and the feeling in their hearts was indescribably bitter.

 

As a man, being unfairly handsome was one thing—but now, wearing women’s clothing, he could still reach a new level of beauty?! How is anyone else supposed to live after that?!

Unlike everyone else, the director, though amazed, couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He walked over to Jing Ling, circled around him several times, and observed him repeatedly. Finally, he came to a conclusion: “The Adam’s apple isn’t very prominent, but if you look closely, you can still spot it. Also, he’s too tall.”  

 

“Li Yi, come over here,” he called out. As soon as he spoke, a girl walked over.

 

“Stand here.” The director pointed to the spot beside Jing Ling. The girl followed instructions and stood in place. With her hair bun included, she was still more than half a head shorter than Jing Ling. This girl, Li Yi, was the female lead of the show. In the earlier part of the drama, she takes on the male lead’s script, disguised as a man and appearing in court with civil and military officials as the emperor’s legitimate eldest son. While their identities are still undisclosed in the early plot, the female lead standing next to the male lead—only for the male lead to be over half a head taller—would be rather jarring.

 

Jing Ling looked down at Li Yi upon hearing this, and just then, she happened to look up at him. Their eyes met. Li Yi shrugged helplessly and said, “Don’t look at me, beauty—it’s not my fault. I’m 168 cm tall, that’s not considered short for a woman.”

 

Jing Ling also shrugged. “It’s not my fault either. I’m 175 cm, which isn’t tall for a guy.”

 

The director paced around the two, stroking his chin and muttering to himself, “Does this mean we’ll have to use stools for every shoot?”

 

Jing Ling thought for a moment and said, “No need for all that trouble. I can just sit in a wheelchair.”

Upon hearing that, the director’s eyes lit up. “That’s a great idea!”

 

So, the props team worked overtime to rush out a custom ancient-style wheelchair for Jing Ling to test out. After a few rounds of trial and adjustments based on his feedback, they finalized the design. The costume team didn’t get any rest either; they also worked overtime to make Jing Ling’s outfits. Due to the tight timeline, they made two emergency sets first, and the rest would be made while filming progressed—this included both male and female costumes.

 

The entire crew began to run like a well-oiled machine.

 

Two days later, the production team held an official commencement ceremony at Cloud Film City. The staff responsible for publicity uploaded photos from the scene to the drama’s official Weibo account.

Song of Eternal Joy TV Drama V: 

 

After enduring countless hardships, Song of Eternal Joy has finally begun filming. The crew doesn’t have to disband. Are you happy? [dog emoji][dog emoji][dog emoji][photo]

 

During its serialization, the original novel of Song of Eternal Joy had decent data, but it was far from a blockbuster. Moreover, under Jiang Sijin’s pen name, this was the only published novel, so it only had a pitiful handful of loyal fans. The official Weibo had been active for nearly half a year, but had yet to reach 30,000 followers, with even fewer actively engaging. This Weibo post sank like a stone into the sea, barely making a ripple.

 

Three days later, the official account began releasing the cast’s costume photos. The first image wasn’t of the male or female leads but of a supporting character. The woman in the photo wore a begonia-red palace gown, her hair styled in elegant clouds with floral adornments and a golden hairpin swaying at her temple. Beneath arched willow-leaf brows were phoenix eyes, the corners of her lips slightly upturned—but her eyes betrayed not a trace of a smile. In the upper right corner of the photo, a line of text read:  Meng Lan as Consort Lin

 

In the original novel, Consort Lin is the mother of the third prince, Li Zhen. She is the most favored woman of Emperor Jian’an. Her grandfather, Lin Zhengheng, held the rank of second-grade official and was Minister of Personnel—the head of the Six Ministries. Her father was also a high-ranking regional officer, serving as the prefect of prosperous Yingzhou in the south.

 

This costume photo didn’t stir much reaction either. Only a few die-hard fans praised the styling and costumes as decently made.

 

After that, every day at 6 p.m., the official account would post one costume photo. Once all the female supporting roles were released, the male supporting roles followed. After seven consecutive days, there was finally a bit of buzz. Only the last two squares in the nine-grid layout were left—naturally reserved for the male and female leads.

 

As 6 p.m. approached, fans were already speculating under yesterday’s post about which costume photo would be revealed today. Some guessed the male lead, others the female lead—each with their own reasoning.  

 

At exactly 6 p.m., the official account released the next costume photo right on time.

 

In the photo was a man clad in full military gear, mounted on a black stallion, holding the reins. Only his side profile could be seen—sharp and well-defined. Behind him stretched a battlefield full of smoke and fire. In the upper right corner, the text read:  Li Yi as Li Yu

 

As soon as the photo dropped, the comment section lit up.

 

juanjuan_is_adorable_today: So handsome, slurp slurp slurp!

 

ily: Onlooker checking in—the male lead’s side profile looks great, give us the front view!

 

Deep Sea in the Clouds V: @ily That’s not the male lead—it’s the female lead.

 

Matchstick Seller Girl: Okay I’m buying it—this series is adapted from the novel Song of Eternal Joy by Jinxiu Book on Green River Literature. It’s a fluffy, silly, sweet read with no angst. It makes you want to fall in love [link].

 

Angie2: @Matchstick Seller Girl You’re stirring the pot.

 

Alive But Not Healing – Ye Qiqi V: I looked it up—Li Yi is female. Based on the setup, the female lead should be played by a man. I bet a bag of spicy strips that tomorrow’s photo will be blinding. Anyone wanna bet?

 

NameIsGibberish: Gambling is wrong! That said, I also bet my eyes will go blind—one bag of spicy strips!

A bunch of people chimed in, siding with the “eye-blind” option.

 

At 5:50 p.m. the next day, the official account posted a teaser:

Song of Eternal Joy TV Drama V:  

A surprise is about to be revealed—are you ready? [husky emoji][husky emoji]

 

A bunch of people replied saying, “Surprise? More like a shock.” They complained while waiting to see the final costume photo.

 

At exactly 6 p.m., the last image was posted.

 

It was the depths of winter. The courtyard was covered in a thick layer of snow. Blossoming plum trees stood bright and proud—the red blossoms against the white snow made a stark contrast. Under one of the plum trees sat a young woman, wrapped in a teal cloak with a fluffy white fur trim that nearly covered half her face. The skin exposed was just as fair and soft as the fur. Her jet-black hair was tied into a bun, decorated with two pearl hairpins. She looked down slightly, her eyelashes long and thick, and her lips more vivid than the plum blossoms overhead.

 

It was, without a doubt, a beautiful woman. The only flaw was the pair of obvious tracks left behind her in the snow—wheel marks from a wheelchair.

 

In the top right corner was the same format:  Jing Ling as Zhao Zizhen

 

Book fan who bet spicy strips on going blind: What happened to the crossdressing male lead?! If you just hired a woman to play the male lead, you know people are gonna come for you, right?!

 

Onlooker in the peanut gallery: Didn’t they say yesterday’s was the female lead? But looking at this… this one really looks more like the female lead. Are you sure there’s no mix-up?

 

Chapter 10

 

The reason Song of Eternal Joy could be adapted for the screen was simply because Jiang Sijin acted on a sudden impulse. She had a distinctive trait—she was extremely serious about everything she did. Whether it was something meticulously planned or decided on the spur of the moment, she would do her best to make it perfect. That was also why, despite all the other roles in the production being cast, the crew had delayed filming for two full months just to find a male lead. As the little princess of the Jiang family, a top-tier aristocratic family in the Western Administrative District, the word “settle” had never existed in Jiang Sijin’s vocabulary.

 

Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, Song of Eternal Joy had already been filming for half a month. Since the original novel wasn’t a major IP, and the main cast didn’t feature any current top-tier internet celebrities, nobody paid attention to the drama at the start. After the launch promotion and several days of releasing costume photos, the official account only barely surpassed the thirty-thousand follower mark. Active fans numbered only in the low hundreds—it was, in a word, desolate.

 

Jiang Sijin had spent the past few days completely engrossed in watching her male idol. Only after that wave of excitement began to subside did she take a proper look at her own crew’s situation, and she couldn’t help but frown. Still, there wasn’t much she could do—when it came to film and television, she truly had no clue.

 

After two days of fruitless worrying, Jiang Sijin stopped trying to figure it out on her own and decisively sought outside help.

 

“Second Brother, I have a favor to ask. Our production has already started filming, but the promotion isn’t going well. Can you help me find someone who’s good at publicity and operations? You’re the best, love you mwaah~ I’ll come home this weekend and cook something delicious for you!”

 

The Jiang family made its early fortune in oil, later shifting its focus to politics and the military. Though they maintained some commercial ventures, those were limited to the industrial field and didn’t touch the entertainment industry. But that hardly mattered. Plenty of people were eager to curry favor with the Jiang family, including many from the film and television world. With just one phone call from Jiang’s second son, everything was arranged in under thirty minutes. The contact soon got in touch with Jiang Sijin, asked for the filming location, and said someone would be sent over that very day.

 

Jiang Sijin politely thanked them before hanging up.

 

So, during a break after shooting a scene, Jing Ling saw Jiang Sijin sitting cheerfully under the eaves behind the director, her gaze fixed on him. He took the water handed to him by a crew member and thanked them with a smile, then walked over under the eaves.

 

Jiang Sijin’s eyes lit up. “Jing Ling!”

 

Jing Ling walked up to her and politely asked, “May I sit here?” After receiving her consent, he sat down, unscrewed the water bottle, and took a sip before casually asking, “Miss Jiang seems to be in a great mood today—did something good happen?” He had noticed her furrowed brow a few days earlier, but since they weren’t acquainted, he hadn’t dared to ask. Now that things seemed resolved, he brought it up in a light tone.

 

Unexpectedly, Jiang Sijin had no intention of hiding anything. Hearing his question, she replied honestly, “You could say that. The issue that had me worried for the past two days is solved. The production has been underway for so long, yet there’s been barely any buzz. It’s my first investment after all—while I don’t expect everyone to know about it, I don’t want it to stay completely unknown either. My second brother helped me find someone in charge of publicity and operations. They should be arriving this afternoon.”

 

Jing Ling smiled and said, “Then congratulations, Miss Jiang. And congratulations to me too—for my first role, I get to work with someone as lucky as you.”

 

The two chatted for a while until the next scene was almost ready, and Jing Ling excused himself. On the way back, the director called him over—along with the female lead, Li Yi—to give both of them some direct instructions. The upcoming scene marked a major turning point in the series: Zhao Zizhen, accompanying his mother to pray for blessings at the Ten Thousand Buddhas Temple, accidentally discovered the secret of the Crown Prince’s true identity. To protect himself and his mother, he not only promised to keep the secret but also took a bold gamble by offering to marry her as a concubine—so he could live under her nose and avoid death.

“This scene requires special attention from you, Li Yi. As a crown prince raised as a boy from childhood, your identity is tied not only to yourself but also to the emperor’s reputation. Once discovered, your first instinct would be to eliminate any witness. So your expression and gaze must be fierce. And you, Jing Ling, need to focus on the shock of discovering the secret, the panic of being caught, and the forced calm as you try to save yourself. But to be honest, I’m not too worried about you. You really don’t seem like a rookie at all. Whether it’s your positioning or expressions, everything feels natural. You’ve got a face made for this industry. As long as you don’t mess things up, your future is boundless. Keep it up!”

“Li Yi, same goes for you. There’s still a shortage of your type in the industry right now—you’ve got to keep pushing forward too!”

 

The director’s surname was Liu, and he was the warm-hearted type. He originally started by discussing the scene with them, but the conversation quickly veered off into their career prospects. Still, his words were sincere, not just empty praise. With a face like Jing Ling’s, even as just a pretty face, he could absolutely become popular. Focusing on small-screen work and variety shows, and occasionally making cameo appearances in films—so long as his looks held up, popularity was not a concern at all. Not to mention his high talent in acting: this was his first role, and yet he was already outperforming many formally trained actors with years of experience. He was practically born for this industry. While “top-tier superstar” might be too early to call, becoming a first-tier actor was just a matter of time.

 

As for Li Yi, although not quite on the same level as Jing Ling, she had her own unique traits. With a bit of luck, she could also find her place in the industry.

 

While they talked, the scene and props had all been set. The director let the two go touch up their makeup—it was time to shoot.

 

As previously mentioned, Cloud Film City was the largest historical drama filming base in the Republic. Countless costume dramas were shot or took location footage here every year. Jiang Sijin had no shortage of money, and secured a large and high-quality area for the Song of Eternal Joy crew. But even so, it was only a small part of the entire film city. When their crew had just rented this location, the adjacent area was still vacant. It wasn’t rented out until about half a month before Song of Eternal Joy began filming.

 

The neighboring production was called Splendid Ode, also a drama adaptation. The original novel was published on Redleaf Girls’ Web, considered a rival platform to Green River Literature. Compared to Song of Eternal Joy, Splendid Ode had far greater name recognition. It was written by a top-tier author from Redleaf, and had already attracted tens of thousands of readers during its serialization. The drama’s production company was Starlight Media, a leading player in the industry. The female lead, Jinxiu, was being played by Tang Yurong, who had skyrocketed to fame earlier that year due to an idol drama—by all metrics, this was a very strong lineup. Even before filming started, the show was already getting widespread attention.

 

This is mentioned because Splendid Ode had originally intended to rent the filming location that Song of Eternal Joy now occupied—but they were too late. Their director even came over to ask if they could swap locations, or at least borrow the space for a while.

 

At that time, Song of Eternal Joy hadn’t started filming yet. Technically, helping them out wouldn’t have been too difficult. But the other side’s attitude and tone were incredibly off-putting—completely lacking in basic courtesy, arrogant and condescending, practically looking down their noses. It was as if they wanted to say outright: “A small-time crew like yours is just wasting such a prime location. Better let us use it. Besides, it’s been so long and you haven’t even finalized your cast—you clearly don’t know what you’re doing. Whoever invested in this must be blind—what a waste of money!”

 

Under those circumstances, if Director Liu had agreed to lend them the space, he really would’ve been a fool. Since they didn’t get what they wanted, the other side naturally held a grudge against Song of Eternal Joy. When not face-to-face, it was fine—but if they crossed paths, a few jabs or sarcastic remarks were inevitable.

Jing Ling and Li Yi had good chemistry and rarely had any retakes during filming. So the scenes planned for the evening were finished by around 5 p.m. On the other side, the publicity and operations expert that Jiang Sijin’s second brother had arranged had also arrived. Being a generous boss, Jiang Sijin announced that she would treat everyone to a good meal.

 

The crew immediately erupted in cheers. After quickly packing up, they set off for Cloud Grand Hotel. But as fate would have it, on the second-floor stairway of the hotel, they ran into people from the Splendid Ode production. Compared to the bustling crowd on Jiang Sijin’s side, the opposing group had just about a dozen people, all dressed sharply in suits. Judging by the way their director was deferentially accompanying them, they were likely company executives or investors.

 

The director of Splendid Ode was a petty and foul-mouthed man. Upon seeing Director Liu and his group, he couldn’t help but mock them: “Oh, isn’t this Little Liu? So, did you find your male lead? Or are you here for a wrap-up dinner?”

 

Director Liu was stunned by the comment. There wasn’t any deep animosity between the two sides, and considering the setting, he truly hadn’t expected the man to say something like that.

 

The others on the opposing side probably knew their director’s personality, so they weren’t surprised. One of them asked what was going on, and the director quickly brushed it off: “Nothing, just a clown. This way, Mr. Wang, please.” Since he downplayed it, the others didn’t press and headed upstairs.

 

The crew was indignant, quietly muttering complaints. Jiang Sijin asked Director Liu what had happened, and he briefly explained the situation.

 

“I see. If anything like this happens again, just curse them out directly. I’ll take responsibility,” she said. How could she let her people get pushed around?

 

Director Liu gratefully accepted her support. The group then went directly to the third floor.

 

Midway through the dinner, Jing Ling received a call from Jing Qiu. He apologized to those at his table, got up, and went out to take the call. Since it was a bit noisy in the restaurant, he headed toward the terrace, chatting with Jing Qiu as he walked. Halfway there, a door to the right suddenly swung open and a figure ran out of the room. Jing Ling was about to move aside when another person followed, grabbed the runner’s hand, and without a word, started dragging them back into the room.

 

It was a beautiful girl. Under the corridor light, her face looked unnaturally flushed, and even from a distance, the strong smell of alcohol was unmistakable. 

 

“Let go of me! I want to leave! Let go!” She was clearly unwilling to go back and was struggling fiercely.

Jing Ling hesitated for a couple of seconds, then decided to intervene. “Sis, something came up here. I’ll call you later.” He hung up, pocketed his phone, and in just that short time, the girl had already been dragged back into the room. Seeing that the door was about to shut, he quickly stepped forward and blocked it with his hand.

 

The man inside froze for a moment, then glared at him fiercely. “Mind your own business!”

 

“Miss, do you need help?” Jing Ling ignored the man and looked down to ask the girl who was being pulled.