GRMFBS CH85

Zhan Yan suddenly received a large sum of money out of nowhere, before he even had time to ask why.

Zhan Suiru: “Broker’s fee!”

Zhan Yan: “Thank you, boss!”

Now that he had the new prop in hand, and had even made contact with an artist he admired, Director Ji Lele was in an excellent mood. Consequently, Zhan Yan himself looked more and more pleasing to his eyes as well. The kid was handsome, had natural camera sense. While not the type of face that looked better on camera than in real life, it was highly watchable, giving the whole picture a balanced, comfortable feeling — another kind of screen presence.

Ji Lele rubbed his chin, considering giving Zhan Yan some extra scenes. But then he remembered Zhan Yan’s earlier line: “Does it come with extra pay?”

Forget it. He would just sneak him an extra close-up shot without telling him!

“You — come here! Stand right here!” Director Ji hauled Zhan Yan out of his usual hiding place in the corner and placed him front and center, directly giving him a close-up shot when the camera rolled.

That left Gu Jiancheng, displaced, glaring bitterly in the corner by himself.

After shooting wrapped, the props team gratefully received the prop from Zhan Yan, smiling warmly and chatting affectionately with him.

Because Zhan Yan had found a replacement prop, the director’s anger had been soothed, and the props group didn’t take much blame for burning the director’s personal sculpture — partly because Ji hadn’t paid much money for that piece anyway. Everyone was thankful to Zhan Yan.

Xie Dongshu as well. Though it wasn’t technically his fault, he had been caught awkwardly in the middle.

By securing that sculpture, Zhan Yan had extricated him from the embarrassing situation.

Xie Dongshu invited him out to dinner as thanks, and even thought one meal still didn’t feel like enough to express his gratitude.

He didn’t know about the earlier “extra pay” incident; all he saw was Director Ji showing interest in giving Zhan Yan more screen time, so he happily tried to build a connection. In his free time he’d sit with Zhan Yan, chat with him, and even give him guidance on acting and working with the camera.

Xie Dongshu spoke sincerely, since he saw no threat in Zhan Yan. They were more than ten years apart, and by the time Zhan matured, Xie Dongshuhimself would be aging out of “young leading man” roles anyway.

Zhan Yan was deeply interested in these things he knew nothing about, and listened attentively.

This made Gu Jiancheng jealous, so he came over.

When Xie Dongshu saw Gu Jiancheng, he was a little surprised but concealed it well. Compared to Zhan Yan, he felt Gu Jiancheng truly was someone who could threaten him.

He didn’t know how Gu Jiancheng acted, but that innate quality of his — instantly seizing attention — was dangerous.

There are two types of actors in the world: those who can disappear into any role, and those who always play themselves regardless of the role. Neither can really be called superior, but the second type usually has narrower range. Yet, combined with the magnetic quality Gu Jiancheng exuded, audiences would gladly keep following his work.

It suddenly clicked for Xie Dongshu: no wonder the director kept pushing him into corners. He simply wasn’t suited to play background extras — even one more second of screentime and he’d steal all focus.

Xie Dongshu thought these things silently, smiling outwardly. “You two classmates?”

Zhan Yan tugged Gu Jiancheng to sit beside him, saying: “My friend.”

No way he dared say boyfriend. What if it got back to Xia Yuexian and she told his father…

Gu Jiancheng, even more jealous now, pressed tightly to Zhan Yan’s side.

“You’re very handsome — have you considered a career in entertainment?” Xie Dongshu asked warmly.

But just then Ji Lele walked past with his wolfberry tea and cut in bluntly: “Them? Hah, don’t bother. I already asked.”

He pointed at Gu Jiancheng first: “This one? Gave me exactly three words: ‘Not interested.’”

Then he jabbed a finger at Zhan Yan: “And this one? When I said I’d give him more scenes, he told me to pay him more!”

“These brats are just here to have fun and gawk!” Ji Lele grumbled bitterly.

Zhan Yan jokingly swept a hand in a circle, bringing in the other college extras: “We all are.”

After venting, Ji Lele went back to work in good spirits. Xie Dongshu also had to go on set, so after a polite goodbye he turned and caught sight of Zhan Yan’s arm draped over Gu Jiancheng’s shoulder, the two chatting intimately. Gu Jiancheng’s cool eyes had softened with tenderness.

Ah, youth really is a good thing…

Zhan Yan leaned in to whisper to Gu Jiancheng.

Earlier, Gu Jiancheng had warned him not to get too close to Xie Dongshu: there was something strange about him.

Zhan Yan whispered back with a smile: “Why are you jealous? He’s not as good-looking as you.”

“I’m not jealous!” Gu Jiancheng insisted fiercely. “Even if he were more handsome — it’d still be no good!”

And in fact, it wasn’t just jealousy. From the very first day, Gu Jiancheng had sensed something off in Xie Dongshu’s aura. The “wherever he goes, fire follows” wasn’t coincidence, nor some fate of being “born with fire.”

After observing him for two days, Gu Jiancheng confirmed that Xie Dongshu wasn’t even a superpowered human. No, he’d been cursed — someone had placed a spell on him, causing fire to spring up around him.

Who knew what kind of petty person Xie Dongshu had offended? What if the curse hurt people close to him too?

Zhan Yan only laughed helplessly. “You’re the best looking!”

Later, with some free time, Zhan Yan dug back through the gossip threads about Xie Dongshu, to investigate why exactly he was cursed to ignite everything.

The truth emerged quickly:

[Long ago, Xie Dongshu found an injured exotic beast — the mythical Bifang — and, mistaking it for a wounded bird, took it home and carefully nursed it back to health.]

[In gratitude, Bifang promised to grant him one wish. In a dream it asked what he wanted.
Xie Dongshu said: “I want fire.”]

The Bifang was a one-legged bird that controlled and created fire.

Poor Xie Dongshu… such a tragic misunderstanding!

Zhan Yan decided to talk to him about it.

These events had happened nearly ten years ago. The next day, Zhan casually asked Xie Dongshu about pets.

Xie Dongshu sighed. “With my situation now, how could I possibly keep pets?”

Zhan: “Not even before?”

That opened Xie Dongshu’s memories:

“When I was a kid, I raised a bird missing a leg. Must’ve been twenty years ago, when I’d just started middle school. One day I picked it up off the ground.

“It was absolutely gorgeous — feathers red and green, but one leg was broken. It had only a single foot.”

Xie Dongshu sighed again. “I pitied it, so I took it home. Didn’t know what it ate, so I tried everything. Millet, vegetables, fruit, bits of meat… I even caught bugs for it.”

Zhan believed him — his gossip system showed that indeed, he’d fattened the Bifang up quite a lot.

“Hey, I still have a photo!” Xie Dongshu pulled out his phone and scrolled.

The image was of an actual old printed photo, taken on film, later photographed again for his phone.

In it was young Xie Dongshu, smiling brightly, holding a plump little bundle of feathers — red and green, large round eyes, perched in his hands with its head cocked adorably at the camera.

Wow… the Bifang was that cute?!

“Cute, right?” Xie Dongshu beamed. “It was so thin at first! I fed it back to health, bit by bit. I named it ‘Qiuqiu.’”

Zhan asked: “What happened to Qiuqiu later on?”

Xie Dongshu sent the photo over, sighing. “Later I heard the policy announcement — wild animals had to be handed over. So I turned it in.

“I didn’t know what kind of bird it was, didn’t want to mess it up. But after handing it over, I worried constantly — worried they wouldn’t take good care of it. I worried for years, wondering if it was still alive.”

Of course it’s alive! Zhan thought. That announcement had actually been staged by the Abnormal Affairs Management Bureau and the Ten-Thousand-Wan yaos Alliance, searching for wounded monsters transformed into their original shapes by the Zhulong Loop.

But he couldn’t tell Xie Dongshu that. Instead, he just offered sympathy.

That evening, Zhan logged onto the supernatural forum and contacted Luo Wang, the admin, asking if she could get in touch with the Bifang.

Luo Wang: “Sure. He doesn’t have an account though. I can share my chat window with him. Did something happen?”

But if she shared her window, she’d definitely see the gossip. Would the Bifang mind? Zhan hedged.

Approaching Science: “Just an old story. If he doesn’t mind, let me talk.”

Luo Wang, intrigued, passed on the request.

After hearing the background, the Bifang decided it wasn’t anything shameful. Generously, he agreed. Borrowing Luo Wang’s private messages, he started talking.

Approaching Science: “Didn’t someone rescue you over twenty years ago?”
Bifang (via Luo Wang): “Yes. And I repaid him!”

Zhan Yan carefully continued:

Approaching Science: “Do you remember how you repaid him?”

Of course, the Bifang remembered. After the Wan yao Alliance brought him back, he spent several years recuperating. When he finally recovered, he went to look for Xie Dongshu.

At that time, relations between the Alliance and the Bureau had soured again, and the Bifang didn’t want to deal with them.

Bifang (via Luo Wang): “So I found him myself. To avoid frightening him, I entered his dream and asked what he wished for. Back then, he had just entered showbiz, and his hopes had been crushed. In his muddled sleep, he said, ‘I want fire! I want to blaze bright, big fire, big fame!’”

The Bifang had been stunned. Such a strange request…

Bifang (via Luo Wang): “Well, fire’s easy. But humans can be hurt by flames, suffer from fires. I asked him several times to confirm! He kept saying he wanted fire wherever he went. So I worked and worked, designed a special ‘Auspicious Flame’ technique for him. Wherever he passed, small auspicious flames would arise, warding off evil, ensuring safety — but never causing true fires.”

Bifang even thought he had been wonderfully meticulous and considerate.

Luo Wang, listening, had already figured it out!

The Bifang was an ancient creature who never touched the internet. He didn’t even have a forum account, and of course, he didn’t understand that “fire” had long acquired the slang meaning of “being famous.”

Approaching Science: “All these years — and no one has told you that the ‘fire’ he wanted didn’t mean literal fire?!”