1.

My industry rival: Gu Yiliang. A second-tier rising star with the face of an idol and the acting skills of a true performer. No matter what role he took on—lead, supporting, or even a minor character—his presence was the cherry on top. Film critics wrote thousand-word essays praising him with genuine emotion, his company flooded the media with glowing press releases, and his Weibo comments were a sea of thumbs-up and flower emojis.

And then there was me: Wei Yanzi. A third-tier newbie with the face of an idol but the acting skills of a commercial actor. No matter what role I played—lead, supporting, or an extra—I was nothing more than a withering weed, neither fully dried up nor in bloom, certainly not worthy of being placed in a vase.

Gu Yiliang gave interviews where he confidently discussed his characters’ psychology and the development of the plot, openly declaring his ambition to win a major film award. I, on the other hand, gave interviews where I was only asked about gossip and scandals, too embarrassed to even call myself an actor on camera.

To put it bluntly, in this grand entertainment industry, he was the flower by the pond, the moon in the clouds, and I was the wilted cabbage in the field.

2.

The difference between me and Gu Yiliang seemed to be just one rank, but in this industry, it might as well have been an uncrossable chasm. No matter how much I craned my neck, I could never even touch his shadow.

3.

So how did I end up as his so-called industry rival?

It was simple: we were the same age, under the same company, and debuted in the same year. Since we barely knew each other and the company had no intention of packaging us as close brothers, the discussion naturally shifted to resource allocation.

…

Alright, even if I dug deeper, I still couldn’t figure out the logic. His talent far surpassed mine, we had completely different styles, and our roles rarely overlapped. I had no idea how he ended up being my so-called rival.

 

4.

In the three years since our debut, I had barely spoken a few sentences to Gu Yiliang. We hadn’t even added each other on WeChat. Every interaction we had consisted of exchanged glances, polite smiles, and the occasional nod—a trinity of distant courtesy.

If not for the frequent fan wars breaking out in my Weibo comments, I wouldn’t have even realized that my mediocre, lukewarm third-tier existence had somehow gained a rival with a bright and boundless future.

I was terrified.

What had I done to deserve this honor?

 

5.

Still, I had to admit—I felt somewhat honored.

Having such a high-level rival made me look a little better by association. Plus, all the fan wars gave me extra exposure.

It was a win-win situation, really.

 

6.
What did it mean to be a "rival"?

To his fans:

If I smiled at Gu Yiliang, I was being two-faced.

If I walked past him, I was deliberately ignoring him.

If I lowered my head while standing beside him, I was sulking.

If I turned to chat with someone else while sharing the same frame as him, I was putting on airs.

No matter if I sat or stood, I was always in the wrong.

Honestly, if I weren’t Wei Yanzi myself, I might have believed it.

To my fans, on the other hand:

If Gu Yiliang smiled at me, he was provoking me.

If he walked past me, he was looking down on me.

If he lowered his head while standing beside me, he was pretending to be aloof.

If he turned to chat with someone else while sharing the same frame as me, he was acting fake.

No matter if he moved or stood still, he was always in the wrong.

Honestly, if I didn’t personally know Gu Yiliang, I might have believed it too.

 

7.

If we happened to wear accessories from the same brand, we were fighting over endorsement deals.

If we happened to wear similar outfits, one of us was copying the other’s style.

If we happened to wear identical clothes… then all hell broke loose. Our fans could tear each other apart for hours over who wore it better, who looked more stylish, who exuded more elegance.

8.

And how did I know all of this in such detail?

9.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and handed my phone back to my new assistant, Xiao Chen. “Stop showing me these hate threads. It’s exhausting.”

 

10.

“There’s still over an hour until your next scene. I didn’t want you to get bored,” Xiao Chen stuck out his tongue playfully and fanned me with his hand. “So actors don’t Google themselves?”

Still shaken from the hate comments I just read, I quickly corrected him: “No, no, no. Don’t call me ‘sir,’ and don’t call me an actor either.”

“Oh, okay then, Brother Wei.” Xiao Chen adjusted immediately, handing me a bottle of water with a straw. “You never search your own name online?”

I bit down on the straw tip. “Why would I? The rumours are ridiculous. Reading them just ruins my mood.”

Xiao Chen tilted his head. “Then why don’t you search your rival’s name instead? That should make you feel better.”

I was rendered speechless by his suggestion.

 

11.

This kid was a damn genius.

12.
I had no personal animosity toward Gu Yiliang, really. But after just reading through all the fabricated dirt his fans threw at me, I couldn’t help but feel a little irritated.

An eye for an eye, right? Checking out his hate comments to balance my mood seemed fair.

It was practically a good deed.

Excitedly, I pulled out my phone, opened Weibo, and typed “Gu Yiliang” into the search bar.

 

13.

A moment later, I collapsed into my chair, like Ge You, clutching my chest as I tried to calm the turmoil in my heart after seeing the endless praise showered upon him.

I was fragile. I couldn’t take any more emotional blows today.

 (NT: "Ge You slouch" is a term derived from a famous scene in a Chinese sitcom where actor Ge You sits on a couch with a lazy, slouched posture, looking exhausted and unbothered.)

14.

Just as I closed the comment section, a red notification popped up—ten new comments had just arrived. Out of curiosity, I glanced at them. Most were generic love and admiration posts, but one particularly strange comment caught my eye:

@Pink_NiangziArmy: [heart][heart][heart][heart] OMG THEY’RE FEEDING US CONTENT! What a blessed day! PLEASE GET MARRIED ALREADY!!! REGISTER YOUR MARRIAGE NOW!!! [kneel][kneel][heart][heart]

Attached was an image with bold red text on a white background: “MARRY NOW”

 

15.

…Was this… an ad for a marriage agency?

Completely baffled, I clicked on this NiangziArmy’s Weibo account.

 

16.

Had I just opened a new door?

No.

I had just discovered an entirely new universe.

 

Translator : DarNan