Rebirth: A big star falls in love with me

Zhang Yu replied in the same way: "No need."

Next came text messages from Gulnazar, Meng Ziyi, Tang Yan, Zhang Tianai... almost every actress he had ever interacted with sent him messages, some expressing concern, some apologizing, and some testing the waters. Zhang Yu replied to each one, his tone polite but distant.

The last text message was from Bai Bing; it was very short: "Director Zhang, take care."

It was only three words, but Zhang Yu could feel the care in them. He replied, "Thank you."

After replying to all the text messages, Zhang Yu leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The birthmark under his left eye felt slightly warm; he could feel the star-like marks circulating within him—Chen Chen's pain, Zeng Li's desire, Bai Bing's persistence, Yang Mi's scheming, Song Qian's purity, Jing Tian's innocence, Gulinaza's passion, Meng Ziyi's gentleness, Tang Yan's allure, Zhang Tian'ai's adoration, Gao Yuanyuan's understanding...

Every emotion was a fire burning within him, giving him strength while also scorching his conscience.

The progress was already 108 out of 15. But with each starlight mark he collected, his guilt deepened, and he moved further away from Chen Chen.

Is this game really worth it?

he does not know.

All he knew was that he had no way out.

Outside the window, the rain was still falling. Hengdian was brightly lit at night, but it couldn't penetrate the darkness in his heart.

The phone rang again. Zhang Yu picked it up and saw a text message from an unknown number: "Director Zhang, this is Zhao Liying. The audition is tomorrow, I'll do my best. Also... I saw the news today, and I believe you're not that kind of person. Good luck."

This extra, whom he had only met yesterday, chose to believe him when everyone else was questioning him.

Zhang Yu felt a surge of warmth as he read the text message. He replied, "Thank you. See you tomorrow."

After replying to the text message, he walked to the window and looked at the rainy night outside. Rainwater streamed down the glass like tears.

He thought of Chen Chen, and of when they first met—back when she was still a naive student, and he was her senior. They met in the library, and she asked him to borrow a book about film history. The sun was shining brightly that day, illuminating her face, and her smile was like a spring flower.

How wonderful those times were. Simple, pure, without so much complicated scheming and harm.

But there's no going back.

From the moment he awakened those memories, from the moment he started this game, there was no going back.

He could only keep moving forward, keep playing the game, keep collecting Starshine Marks, and keep... hurting those who loved him.

This is his fate.

The rain is getting heavier.

And his nights, perhaps... will never end.

……

March 9, 2000, 7:00 AM, Hengdian Qingming Riverside Scene Scenic Area.

A thin mist shrouded the upturned eaves of the Song-style buildings, and a light fog drifted over the Bian River. Zhang Yu sat by the window on the second floor of the "Fanlou" restaurant, the script for "A Scholarly Family" spread out before him, an unlit cigarette between his fingers. Outside the window, the extras, already dressed in Song Dynasty costumes, were rehearsing their positions under the direction of the assistant director—today they were filming the scene of Lin Shuwan's first visit to Shanghai to see a play, using the theater scene from the "Along the River During the Qingming Festival" scroll as a backdrop.

My phone vibrated; it was a text message from Li Xiaoming: "Director Zhang, did you see today's 'Entertainment Morning News'? The PR company handled it well, publishing an interview with you discussing your creative philosophy and downplaying the scandals. But you still need to be careful; more than a dozen media outlets are coming to visit the set today."

Zhang Yu replied briefly: "Understood."

He definitely needs media visits on set—positive exposure can offset yesterday's negative news and also generate buzz for "A Family of Scholars." But this also means that he must perform flawlessly in front of the cameras today, without making any mistakes, especially... he can't hurt Chen Chen again.

"Good morning, Director Zhang." A cool voice came from the stairwell.

Zhang Yu looked up and saw Bai Bing walking towards her. Today, she was wearing a light gray modified cheongsam with a beige knitted cardigan over it. Her long hair was tied up in a simple bun, her makeup was light, and her temperament was as aloof as a white plum blossom in the morning mist. The cheongsam was a fitted style, outlining her slender yet curvaceous figure. The slit was just right, and her fair calves were faintly visible as she walked.

"Miss Bai has a scene today?" Zhang Yu closed the script.

“Yes, scene ten, Lin Wanqing sings ‘The Peony Pavilion’ in the opera house.” Bai Bing sat down opposite him and took out a commentary copy of ‘The Peony Pavilion’ from his bag. “I want to think about the character a little more. Lin Wanqing sings in the opera house, outwardly charming but inwardly miserable. This contrast is hard to grasp.”

Zhang Yu watched her focused expression and a thought struck him. This woman was always like this: quiet, earnest, unassuming, yet able to understand every role to its very core.

"Did you watch the news yesterday?" Zhang Yu suddenly asked.

Bai Bing looked up at him, his eyes calm: "I saw it."

"So do you think... I'm that kind of person?" Zhang Yu asked directly.

Bai Bing was silent for a moment: "Director Zhang, in this industry, truth or falsehood doesn't matter, what matters is what others believe. And..." She paused, "I believe you have your own difficulties."

Her words were ambiguous, but Zhang Yu sensed the trust in them. At a time when everyone else was questioning him, Bai Bing chose to believe him—not out of blind faith, but because she saw something deeper.

"Thank you," Zhang Yu said softly.

"You're welcome." Bai Bing lowered his head and continued reading. "I just feel... you're not as superficial as you seem. Those women, those scandals, it's more like a play. And you, the director."

She was so accurate. Looking at her profile, lowered in the morning light, Zhang Yu suddenly felt an urge—to tell her everything, to let her know the truth about this game. But he couldn't.

“Stormtrooper,” he finally said, “what would you do if one day you found out I was really acting, and acting really badly?”

Bai Bing raised his head, his eyes clear: "That depends on why you're acting. If it's out of necessity, I'll understand. If it's voluntary... I'll be disappointed."

She spoke simply, but with great weight. Zhang Yu nodded and said nothing more.

At 8:00 AM, the film crew officially began work. The "theater" in the Qingming Riverside Scene scenic area was decorated like a theater from the Republican era, with tables and benches set up below the stage, and melon seeds and tea on the tables. The extras were already in place, dressed in long gowns and mandarin jackets or cheongsams and skirts, pretending to be theatergoers.

Chen Chen arrived a little late today. She wore a moon-white cheongsam embroidered with orchids, with a light purple shawl over it. Her hair was styled in an elegant updo, adorned with a purple magnolia hairpin. Her makeup was more refined than yesterday, but faint dark circles were still visible under her eyes. When she entered the film set, she saw Zhang Yu discussing shots with the cinematographer. She paused briefly, then walked straight to the dressing room without greeting him.

Huang Ying followed behind her, saw Zhang Yu, and shook her head with a complicated expression.

Zhang Yu felt a pang of pain in his heart, but he remained calm on the surface. He knew that Chen Chen needed time, and he... couldn't do anything right now.