Chapter 370: It

What are you talking about?!

In response to Yang Yang's somewhat sorrowful question, Bai Liang sincerely replied:

"Bro, I had no idea about this. By the way, The Untamed is a danmei adaptation—why not worry about that instead? Danmei adaptations are brutal!"

"That danmei adaptation running into you is pure bad luck," Yang Yang said without hesitation.

He had way too much experience being crushed by Bai Liang!

What bullshit danmei adaptation—he dares to say Qing Yu Nian is almost certainly this year's drama king!

No reason at all, even though he didn't know the specifics of Qing Yu Nian.

Every judgment he made was based entirely on his own past failures.

No one understood how to get "beaten down" by Bai Liang better than him.

And he was certain this guy was the type who'd say, "Oh no, so scary!" but didn't take his opponent seriously at all.

So Yang Yang could only squeeze out, "Next time you've got to guest star in my drama for half a month!"

"Sure thing~ I want a hot-looking role then."

"Of course."

On this point, Yang Yang thought the guy was pretty generous—even though his guest stint would be long, the character image was genuinely great.

That line, "I am the chosen one, and the only one," truly made him feel the allure of esports!

So full of himself—he loved it!

It was like he got to play out his fantasy~

Aside from the unlucky Yang Yang, the impending "collision" between The Untamed and Qing Yu Nian, two highly anticipated dramas, was growing increasingly heated online.

Meng Jie, the "spark plug," finally seemed to realize she should be nervous and stopped boasting in the group chat about how famous she'd become; she immediately called Bai Liang to ask what to do.

She wasn't especially worried about herself—she'd been through wind and rain, walked the path of being hated but famous.

"Hated but famous" was still just imagination—she only had the hated part, no fame at all.

So this kind of being dragged down didn't really matter to Meng Jie, but she was terrified her actions might negatively affect the drama.

Clearly, she'd overestimated herself.

Bai Liang: What to do? Want me to buy you some good food?

According to scientific research, people can forget some troubles when enjoying delicious food.

There was a more direct method, and it worked even better—but unfortunately, it was out of reach.

Besides, Meng Jie dared not visit the Dear, Love Me set—she was genuinely terrified of Na Zha, the true apex predator.

Meng Jie, who looked so formidable and acted like a scheming green tea, was actually a little coward, reduced to just her mouth—blowing off steam with empty boasts in the group chat.

Chen Yao, who seemed timid and spoke softly, almost without any aggression, was the one daring to pull stunts right under Na Zha's nose.

She just didn't brag about it in her girl group—if she had, they'd be stunned.

People really can't be judged by appearances.

Now, as the filming of Dear, Love Me progressed further, Chen Yao was about to finish her shoot, and she was even a little reluctant.

So before leaving, she pulled off a bold move.

She moved from the small RV to the large RV.

Because the bedroom in the large RV had a door, resembling the layout of a living room and bedroom at home.

And when Bai Liang had it customized, he specifically considered soundproofing.

Back then, he thought only to prevent noise from reaching people outside the RV—but never imagined that because he'd spent the money, the internal soundproofing between rooms was excellent.

Na Zha was in the bedroom; she was in the living room.

She might have already prepared for being caught by Na Zha, since she was leaving the next day after finishing her scenes.

It was as if she planned to finish this job, grab a train, and run.

She clearly hadn't considered that while the monk might escape, the temple couldn't—Na Zha could just go to the company and find her.

Fortunately, she wasn't caught—and though she was bold, she was still very nervous.

Bai Liang could feel it, clearly.

The next day, Chen Yao's final scene on set.

It was still a scene with Bai Liang—she wore a small blazer and white shirt, looking every bit the elite corporate white-collar.

For some reason, Na Zha felt Chen Yao had improved quickly since joining the cast.

He himself relied on "talent" to play young, while Chen Yao had initially seemed to be forcing maturity.

At first, yes.

But over time, she performed better and better; the aura of Yue Qiruo faded.

That youthful, bright, nimble feeling receded, replaced by a kind of intellectual beauty that began to dominate.

It gave off a quiet, serene beauty.

The scene's plot: Han Shangyan and Ai Qing have a bitter parting at a café; after losing Han Shangyan, Ai Qing is harassed by several drunken foreign men; Han Shangyan hears the commotion and returns to punch the drunks.

This segment easily made the female actress seem unlikable.

Especially in the original script, after the hero saves the damsel, the heroine, while the men stand tense with sticks, says, "You shouldn't always solve problems with violence."

That's like when your own teammate pulls you back during a fight—not pulling the opponent, just dragging you. You'd definitely get hit.

So the plot was slightly revised. Bai Liang is a "scene hog," after all~

During the standoff and fight, Ai Qing didn't say that—she calmly pulled Han Shangyan away.

Only after things calmed down did they start arguing—just like a post-match review.

So damn esports spirit!

You never argue with teammates during a match, no matter how bad they are—but after the match, you can argue however you want.

It's fine to quote a few lines from the Bible.

But given Chen Yao's particular charm, even saying something unpleasant was hard to make anyone dislike him.

"Passed!"

"Congratulations, Chen Yao, wrapped filming!"

Na Zha reluctantly held Chen Yao's hand, and the two embraced tightly, reluctant to part; Bai Liang felt moved: Girls. Natural actors.

No matter how their acting looked on-screen, these girls seemed to have excellent acting skills off-camera too.

Even their cats seemed to feel a strange kinship.

The two cats, who initially didn't get along, had begun grooming each other after spending some time together.

"Yao Yao's already finished filming, so we don't have much left either," Na Zha said wistfully.

At this moment, she felt the shooting schedule for "My Dear Love" was too short—she'd forgotten it was partly her own fault.

The originally planned shooting schedule was about two and a half to three months.

This range was reserved for Na Zha, mainly in case she dragged things down.

But her ultra-lifelike acting pushed the filming schedule wildly forward—now calculating, it wouldn't even take two months.

Na Zha had been full of energy while acting, but now she regretted it.

Why did she act so well? She could've had another half-month together, but she'd ruined it herself.

"Delaying the remaining scenes further isn't ideal—I've got a lot of promotion to handle, so I can't afford to take time off."

"Aren't you just promoting 'The Longest Day in Chang'an'?"

"No, I also have to help with 'Ne Zha'—my mom invested in it and even bought shares in the company."

"So your mom's entering the film industry?" Na Zha blinked, instantly forgetting her original plan to spend more time with Bai Liang.

Ah—if Bai's mom wants to invest in dramas, she could go over and help with a reduced fee! She wouldn't even charge!

Not for anything else—just to chat with Auntie, to spend more time together.

She'd heard about Bai's mom visiting the "The Longest Day in Chang'an" set; she only regretted not landing a role herself—she should've joined in too.

"No, she's always random—whenever she sees something interesting, she jumps in."

"Alright~"

Na Zha pouted in disappointment, then turned her head and suddenly spotted something strange on the sofa.

"Huh?"

She picked up the black, curled hair with her fingers—its length and shape clearly weren't human hair—so she instinctively brought it to her nose to sniff.

Wrong!

When she realized, she immediately tossed it away, "What is this? Whose is it?"

"Yours, of course," Bai Liang said casually.

Na Zha stared at him, dumbfounded, making Bai Liang realize the mistake he'd made.

She didn't even have

So he quickly corrected himself: "Mine, mine."

"Hmph! Don't even think of framing me~"

Hearing this, Na Zha no longer disliked the "hair"—she picked it up again, then her eyes flickered with a mischievous idea.

She used it to tickle Bai Liang's nose and mouth.

"Hehe, now you taste it too~"

Bai Liang: Actually, it probably isn't mine—the length doesn't match.

Little Snake can turn invisible and move at will—but leaves traces.

——

Sister Yanzi felt she'd figured out what was going on—about the online fraud and those still-under-the-radar trends.

"Advance playback?" Hearing the term, Bai Liang felt vaguely familiar.

"Big Brother Dou Xiao Bai, it's just cutting the leeks."

"That's exactly the kind of thing they'd do."

"Tencent came up with the idea first—they planned to implement it on both 'The Untamed' and 'The Longest Day in Chang'an'; if it worked, other platforms would follow."

These platforms had no moral high ground—they didn't talk about ethics with capital; they only cared about profit.

Advance playback was clearly a money-grabbing move.

Charging extra on top of membership fees was an outrage—audiences would definitely rage.

But the problem was, "The Longest Day in Chang'an" was scheduled for broadcast on terrestrial TV, simultaneously with online streaming.

Bai Liang's involvement gave the project massive attention from the start, and all kinds of sponsorships flew in.

But in a sense, "The Longest Day in Chang'an" was a borderline time-travel drama with heavy restrictions.

The State Administration of Radio and Television had been tightening policies on time-travel dramas, so during filming, the original time-travel scenes were rewritten as fictional content imagined for historical research, specifically to avoid the word "time-travel."

Under these conditions, getting approval for terrestrial broadcast wasn't easy, let alone with this year's ancient drama ban.

So although many channels wanted to buy it, they feared it wouldn't pass censorship—most were eyeing second-run broadcasts.

Except Hunan TV.

They were the only terrestrial channel that was utterly superstitious about Bai Liang.

From "Go Fighting! Season 3" to rushing into production to rescue the massive mess of "The Legend of Tian Sheng," then perfectly saving the show with "The Glory of Great Ming," Bai Liang had never let Hunan TV down.

When Hunan TV had cried out "Great Immortal, save us!" back then, it had already sealed their decisive move this time.

No one knew how they'd managed to force "The Longest Day in Chang'an" onto terrestrial broadcast simultaneously despite the ancient drama ban and time-travel restrictions.

The key lay in that word: simultaneously.

He directly gave the twitchy Tencent Video general a firm slap.

Pay-per-advance-binge? Heh, try it once.

Who let your streaming platform pull this backstabbing pay-per-advance-binge stunt?

This has the flavor of "inviting a god is easy, sending him away is hard."

Undoubtedly, this was good news for Bai Liang and the others—once the drama was sold to the platform, how they operated it had nothing to do with them.

But if the platform pulled off some pay-per-advance-binge shenanigans, it could damage the drama's reputation, its long-tail effects, and the actors' interests.

In short, it harmed long-term development—it was like draining the pond to catch all the fish.

It could even provoke audience backlash, making them hate the whole thing because they hated the tactic.

Pay-per-advance-binge? Even noble members have to pay?

I'm going to watch pirated copies!

This would definitely hurt the drama's performance—the online viewership data that could've been wildly promoted would suddenly shrink by a huge chunk, and they wouldn't get a single cent from the pay-per-advance-binge revenue.

On a single chain of interests, everyone has their own stake.

Now, the pressure of pay-per-advance-binge had fallen entirely on "The Untamed"—the platform was counting on it to rake in a massive profit.

They might even hope to recoup the portion they failed to capture with "The Longest Day in Chang'an."

After all, for capital, if I could've made two hundred million but now only made one hundred million, that's a loss of one hundred million.

Under these circumstances, any tactic would be used.

Including but not limited to all sorts of bizarre marketing, smear campaigns, and even deliberate provocation.

The only goal: maximize attention, so they could strike hard with the scythe.

"Oh, then we're lucky then." Bai Liang said after Sister Yanzi gave him a rundown.

Sister Yanzi couldn't help laughing: "Big Brother Dou Xiao Bai, your luck has always been great."

"Yeah, my luck's always been good."

But Bai Liang had spoken too soon.

Careless!

He and Sister Xiao Zhao attended the 25th White Magnolia Awards together, sat through the entire award ceremony, and ended up winning nothing.

"Know Yourself" had seven nominations—second only among all TV dramas.

Yet they won not a single award.

Even Sister Xiao Zhao, who hadn't appeared in public for a long time, was left stunned.

Later, she couldn't help complaining to Bai Liang: "Why do you always win awards when you attend ceremonies with others, but nothing when you're with me?"

Bai Liang sat there, innocent as a little bear, shrugging: "I don't know~"

Sister Xiao Zhao crossed her arms, fuming, muttering whether she cursed Bai Liang—or whether Bai Liang cursed her.

Her butt was sore from sitting so long.

"You unlucky bastard!"

Hearing this nickname, Bai Liang found it oddly novel—he'd never been called that before.

His life had always been completely unrelated to the words "unlucky."

"Sister, is there a possibility—"

"I don't want to hear it!"

She covered her ears, as if reverting to her old cute persona.

But she quickly snapped out of it—she was thirty-one already; what was she doing acting cute?

Besides, her current style was: instead of covering her ears to steal the bell, she'd take the initiative to "scold" others.

When Bai Liang felt his ear being pinched, he felt a familiar sensation.

Seeing his obedient expression, Sister Xiao Zhao, as always, didn't pull hard—she tugged twice lightly and let him go.

But the next second, the brat turned the tables and reached out to tug her cheek.

"You're rebelling!"

"You've lost weight."

That one sentence froze Sister Xiao Zhao for several seconds, leaving her speechless.

She turned her head away, but whispered: "It's normal—I've lost my baby fat, right? Does it make me ugly?"

"Sister, are you nervous?" Bai Liang asked, chin propped on his hand.

"Why would I be nervous? Watch your tongue, you little brat—you're getting more and more disrespectful!"

"Honestly? You look way better now. When you walk with me, we finally don't look like father and daughter anymore."

At this, Sister Xiao Zhao's lips curled slightly, and she glanced at Bai Liang.

Bai Liang: That's the vibe!

Previously, she was mostly the sweet neighbor girl; now, she had the vibe of a naive heroine turning dark and reversing her fate.

Her demeanor was calmer, more composed—her former occasional shyness and awkwardness vanished entirely, replaced by grace and poise.

After the event, she bluntly said: "Want a drink?"

Sure~

How could he refuse such a request?

Besides, they hadn't seen each other in a long time—they ought to catch up.

But he hadn't expected that Sister Xiao Zhao didn't take him to a bar—she directly brought him home.

Clearly, she'd bought the alcohol in advance—hopefully it wasn't fake this time.

"Home? Your place in Shanghai?" Bai Liang suddenly realized the blind spot while sitting in the car.

"Yeah, what's wrong?"

"We need to clear out the paparazzi."

While explaining to Sister Xiao Zhao, Bai Liang contacted Dou Xiao Qi, who was following behind.

Since we're going home, we should take some confidentiality measures.

"That's pretty professional!" Sister Xiao Zhao exclaimed.

"We can't just expose your new home like this."

"True." After nodding, Sister Xiao Zhao patted Bai Liang's thigh, "Why don't you ask me why I bought another house in Shanghai?"

"Should I ask?"

"Ask."

"Oh, did you leave me a room?" Bai Liang's question didn't match what she'd asked, but clearly she was satisfied.

A smile appeared on Sister Xiao Zhao's face. "We'll see how you behave."

Bai Liang looked genuinely surprised.

Mainly because the neighborhood where her new home was located looked so familiar?

There, Meng Jie's house still had lights on—she probably wasn't home, but Sister Qian Jie should be there.

Of course, no one was at the Zha family's place.

Sister Xiao Zhao was now studying his expression with a half-smile. "What's wrong? Don't like this neighborhood? Still want me to leave you a room?"

"Sister, I feel like you're doing this on purpose."

"Mm-hmm."

"To make up for me, leave me the master bedroom."

After saying this, Bai Liang looked down.

After patting his thigh while talking to him, her hand hadn't moved from his leg—it had stayed there the whole time.

That small hand of hers made one wonder—such a tiny hand, surely one hand couldn't hold it all~

"Master bedroom... Hmph!"

She didn't say yes, she didn't say no—she just brought him home.

This house was obviously much, much smaller than her big villa in Yanjing.

But the interior design felt far cozier.

Clearly, Sister Xiao Zhao had prepared in advance—men's slippers and such were neatly arranged, and they were exactly Bai Liang's size.

On the sofa were two sets of men's pajamas for different seasons; in the bathroom, neatly placed, unused toiletries and Mao Jin sat ready.

Bai Liang wandered around the house as if it were his own, even opened the closet.

He wasn't interested in Sister Xiao Zhao's underwear styles—he just wanted to find himself a pair of underwear to change into after his shower.

"Didn't buy any. Go get some from across the way."

Across the way was Meng Jie's place.

Bai Liang thought it unnecessary—he could get to the neighboring unit faster.

Clearly, Sister Xiao Zhao's intelligence work wasn't that thorough; otherwise, her smile might not have been so gentle.

But today's wine was excellent.

Not fake—it didn't cause dizziness or blackouts.

It simply did what it was meant to do.

(End of chapter)