LABMY CH142

“Youth Aspirations” told the story of three individuals with different identities and ambitions who, for various reasons, came together to solve cases and grow together.

Their roles were as follows: the team’s strategist, who aspired to become the greatest detective and uphold justice; the team’s fighter, who dreamed of reaching the pinnacle of the martial world; and the team’s healer, who pursued the highest level of medical skill and wished to save lives.

Among the three, the detective was the protagonist, while the other two served as supporting characters. In this drama, Pei Yao played the second male lead, Dao Feng—a character not particularly intelligent but highly skilled in combat, solely focused on traveling the martial world and pushing his martial arts to new heights.

Due to factors like props, weather, and crew arrangements, TV series were not always filmed sequentially. It wasn’t unusual to shoot the ending first and the beginning later.

At this moment, they were filming a scene from the middle of “Youth Aspirations”.

This didn’t surprise Pei Yao, as the filming schedule had been discussed in advance. However…

“These are two new lines the screenwriter added for you. Memorize them. We’ll start filming in five minutes.”

The director handed him a sheet of paper. “It’s only two lines. Three minutes should be enough. We’ll begin in three minutes—everyone is waiting.”

Pei Yao took the paper instinctively and replied, “Okay, Director.”

The director didn’t wait for him to finish speaking and had already walked off to check the cameras, urging, “Hurry up and memorize them.”

Not wanting to delay everyone, Pei Yao looked at the paper. The moment he read it, his expression turned strange.

Soon, the director called out, “Memorized?”

Pei Yao hesitated, “I did, but…”

The director cut him off decisively. “If you’ve memorized them, let’s start shooting.”

This scene depicted Pei Yao, following the protagonist’s suggestion, searching for clues in an investigation when he encountered a recurring antagonist—played by Zhao Jie—who came to make trouble.

Dressed in traditional costume, Zhao Jie arrogantly delivered his lines.

Pei Yao, wearing a black robe with gold-lined cloud patterns, stood in the snowy wind, reciting his original lines while his mind repeatedly turned over the situation.

Finally, it came time for the newly added lines.

Facing multiple high-definition cameras from various angles, Pei Yao summoned all the conviction of an award-winning actor:

“If I can rise again once, I will never fall again. I will climb step by step to become the most dazzling star in this world, ascend the divine throne, and you… are destined to play the fool beneath my brilliance.”

Zhao Jie stared at him in shock, unable to speak. Before he could say anything, the director’s satisfied voice rang out, “Good! Cut! Take a break.”

The crew busied themselves preparing for the next scene. Zhao Jie, however, sneered with disdain. “Are you insane? Do you really love adding lines for yourself that much?”

“No matter how many lines you add, you’re still not the lead.”

Pei Yao completely ignored him and went straight to the director, leaving Zhao Jie fuming behind him.

“Director.” Pei Yao found the director reviewing the footage. “Aren’t these lines a bit… off?”

The director remained serious. “Not at all. What’s wrong with them?”

Pei Yao hesitated. “Saying something about ‘ascending the divine throne’ and being ‘the most dazzling star’—doesn’t that sound… a little too arrogant?”

The director replied, “Your character is someone who strives to be the strongest in the martial world. Saying such things isn’t out of place.”

“You’re overthinking it. Just focus on preparing for the next scene.”

Pei Yao paced back and forth, then returned hesitantly.

The director watched him for a moment, then pulled him into a private lounge and handed him a bottle of water. “I know you’re wondering why these two lines were suddenly added.”

“Pei Yao, I had no choice. This was a request from the investor. Besides, those lines sounded pretty cool, didn’t they?”

Cool…?

Pei Yao looked at the director with a complicated expression. He could already picture how his character would appear on screen—a wildly arrogant and over-the-top youth. “Cool” wasn’t exactly the word he’d use.

After leaving the director’s office, Pei Yao ran into Jian Yuanbai, who had been searching for him around the set.

“It must be hot wearing traditional costume in the summer. I bought you some cooling patches,” Jian Yuanbai said. Seeing Pei Yao’s odd expression, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Pei Yao pulled him aside, both of them sitting on small stools. “Do you remember that time during the opening of the dating show when I suddenly said something… about a lotus flower?”

Jian Yuanbai pretended to be clueless. “What about it?”

Pei Yao clenched his teeth and muttered, “That lotus thing.”

Even after so much time had passed, Pei Yao still felt embarrassed about it. He spoke vaguely, his ears turning red.

“Oh, I remember now.” Jian Yuanbai, seeing his flushed ears, held back a laugh and asked, “What about the lotus?”

Pei Yao lowered his voice and leaned in. “That line wasn’t something I wanted to say.”

Jian Yuanbai feigned surprise. “Really?”

Pei Yao got annoyed and glared at him. “Do you think I would say something like that on my own?”

Jian Yuanbai recalled the origin of those words—a script written for a “Long Aotian” type protagonist.

Then he glanced at his beautiful, slightly embarrassed “wife” sitting beside him, staring with exasperation. Keeping a straight face, he lied, “I don’t think you would.”

“Exactly.” Pei Yao muttered a small complaint, then continued, “Back then, the director of “Chase Love! Brother” told me through my earpiece that I had to say it. He even said it was a direct request from the investor.”

“And just now, I suddenly got two extra lines in my script…”

At this, Pei Yao’s face reddened again. “Something about ‘divine throne’ and ‘radiance’ or whatever. I went to the director, and he said that was also a direct request from the investor.”

Jian Yuanbai’s heart tensed, but he remained calm. “Must be a coincidence.”

Damn. He had forgotten to tell Assistant Li to make sure the director didn’t mention this to Pei Yao.

Pei Yao frowned slightly, looking uncertain. “Could it really be just a coincidence?”

The true culprit sat right in front of him, appearing perfectly composed. With a steady voice, he said, “It should be. Your character is a bit flamboyant, and those lines aren’t too out of place.”

“Pei Yao.”

Before Pei Yao could say more, a voice called out from a distance.

Chu Caiyang’s voice reached them before he did. As he approached and saw Jian Yuanbai beside Pei Yao, his gaze held a trace of amusement.

“Why are you hiding out here?”

Pei Yao cleared his throat and didn’t voice the doubts in his heart to Chu Caiyang. Instead, he said, “The next scene isn’t mine. I’m just sitting here for a bit. It’s too crowded and a little hot over there.”

“You need something?”

Chu Caiyang had indeed come for a reason. He shook his phone and kindly reminded him, “Has your team not checked Weibo?”

“In situations like this, responding promptly is probably better than letting things spiral out of control.”

He was referring to the increasingly heated speculation online about the relationship between Jian Yuanbai and Pei Yao.

Noticing both of them looking at him, Chu Caiyang coughed twice, feeling a bit awkward but still intensely curious. “So… your supposed uncle-nephew relationship—”

“Is it real? Some people online are already pushing a pretty nasty narrative.”

He coughed again. “You know, like… taboo relationships, immorality, that kind of thing.”

“COUGH COUGH COUGH COUGH COUGH!!”

Pei Yao’s face turned completely red in an instant. His coughing fit was so exaggerated and gut-wrenching that it seemed like he was tearing his throat apart. His face, ears, and neck flushed scarlet, and the redness spread downward, disappearing under his collar.

It gave the impression that the pale skin beneath his clothes had also taken on a faint pink hue.

Chu Caiyang, the one who had asked the question, was thrown off by Pei Yao’s extreme reaction. It was a bit embarrassing but also deeply intriguing—he had come to bring this up partly out of genuine concern and partly out of sheer curiosity.

Pei Yao stammered and fumbled for words, unable to form a complete sentence.

Among the three of them, the only one who remained entirely calm, showing no reaction at all, was Jian Yuanbai. He was so composed that it was as if they were discussing something as mundane as “Did you eat?” rather than a scandalous topic about himself.

His tone was steady as he replied, “There’s no blood relation.”

As he spoke, he gently patted Pei Yao’s back, his gesture natural and affectionate.

Chu Caiyang was beyond curious, but seeing that Jian Yuanbai wasn’t planning to elaborate, he wisely refrained from pressing further. Instead, he asked, “If you two really are together, your identity will probably be criticized by fans and the public.”

“Are you planning to debut? I can help you.”

Jian Yuanbai rejected the offer without hesitation. “No, I just like being a bodyguard.”

Chu Caiyang: …

He forced out a dry laugh. “Well… that’s quite the professional dedication.”

Finding it hard to continue the conversation with Jian Yuanbai, Chu Caiyang turned to Pei Yao, who looked like he had finally caught his breath, and decided to change the topic to lighten the mood.

Chu Caiyang said, “I heard from Zhao Jie that you asked the director to add those two lines?”

He looked amused but held back a laugh as he advised, “I know you’ve been through a rough patch recently, but there’s no need to be this arrogant. Those two lines—something about divine thrones, radiance, and becoming the most dazzling star—are a bit over the top.”

“If you want to prove yourself, you shouldn’t be adding such cocky lines to the script.”

Pei Yao looked utterly defeated. Every topic Chu Caiyang had brought up today was something he desperately wanted to avoid.

“That’s not what happened.”

“Those two lines were added because the investors demanded it.”

Chu Caiyang looked skeptical. “Seriously?”

“This is the first time I’ve heard of investors making such a bizarre request.”

He had seen plenty of product placements forced into dramas, but an investor insisting on inserting cringeworthy, over-the-top lines? That was a first. Naturally, he found Pei Yao’s explanation hard to believe.

Pei Yao sighed wearily. “Believe it or not, I’m telling the truth.”

Standing beside him, Jian Yuanbai picked up a bottle of water and handed it to Pei Yao, his voice gentle. “If you’re done coughing, drink some water. Soothe your throat—you have another scene coming up soon.”

“The Weibo situation—I’ll check on it and discuss it with you tonight.”

Pei Yao sipped the water, his ears still slightly red, and obediently nodded. Jian Yuanbai casually glanced at Chu Caiyang and curled his lips into a faint smile.

By handing Pei Yao the water, he had subtly cut off the conversation before Pei Yao could keep explaining. There was no need to argue—Chu Caiyang would believe it soon enough.

An hour later, under the multi-angle cameras—

Chu Caiyang declared firmly, “You don’t believe in my detective skills?”

“I will sweep away the darkness of this world and bring justice to the dead.”

“If the world is shrouded in chaos and darkness, then I will become the sun itself!”

His expression was righteous and resolute—

But inside, he was cursing.

Damn it!!! What kind of lunatic investor is this?!