HIM Chapter 13: Because I'm Popular
"Cut!" Director Wang’s gaze landed on Bo Qin, who was wearing a military uniform. He said, "Your emotions aren't right, Bo Qin."
The scene had been dragged out for quite a while. As soon as the director called "Cut," there was a collective sigh of relief from around the set. Bo Qin removed his military cap and apologized once again.
Director Wang thought for a moment and said, "Let's call it a day."
The atmosphere relaxed instantly as the lighting and camera crew began packing up. Bo Qin took the wet wipes handed over by Xiao Zhu, exhaling slowly. Before long, beads of sweat covered his forehead.
It was a hot and stuffy summer night. His costume — thick military fabric, a cotton undershirt, a jacket, long pants, and knee-high boots — was suffocating. As Bo Qin walked toward Director Wang, he began unfastening his military belt. Xiao Zhu helped him remove the jacket, revealing a large sweat-stained patch on the back of his white shirt.
Bo Qin undid two buttons on his shirt and leaned against the table, waiting for the director to speak.
Director Wang looked at the monitor, then at Bo Qin, and beckoned Cheng Ziye, who had already removed his makeup. "Ziye, come take a look."
Cheng Ziye came over and leaned down to see the screen.
Director Wang asked, "Qin, have you been under a lot of pressure lately?"
"About the usual," Bo Qin replied. "When am I not under a lot of pressure?"
Director Wang didn't say anything. Cheng Ziye glanced at him and sat back down.
Bo Qin said, "Director Wang, if something's wrong, just say it. If you need to scold me, go ahead. I'm used to it. It's making me a little uneasy seeing you this gentle."
Director Wang frowned. "Xiao Qin, being an actor isn't the same as being an idol. Acting isn't performing on stage. Do you get what I mean?"
Bo Qin: "I didn't act well."
Director Wang waved his hand. "Not that you acted badly. Your acting skills were honed in my hands — they won't be terrible. Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this."
Editor Xu brought his tea mug over, patted Bo Qin's shoulder.
Director Wang stared at Bo Qin. "You’re too tense these days."
He pointed at the monitor. "You were a perfect idol, flawless on stage — your makeup, your hair, your movements, even your ability to find the camera. You rehearsed everything countless times until it was perfect for the audience."
"You developed habits — like controlling yourself so you wouldn't sweat, managing your facial expressions. But acting isn’t like that. This character doesn't have to be perfect. He should sweat when it's hot, should laugh when he's happy. Everything should come naturally, not be pre-programmed. You need to be the character, not just act the character."
Director Wang pointed at a chair, signaling Bo Qin to sit down. "Honestly, not just in your acting — even at your concert, Xu and I noticed you were too tense. It only got better during the second half when you were too exhausted to control yourself anymore."
Bo Qin sipped the water Xiao Zhu handed him, swallowing slowly. He heard Editor Xu say, "You really need to loosen up a bit. Right now you're like a tight string. No one can survive being this tense all the time."
Cheng Ziye, who had been listening quietly, suddenly blurted out, "Wait, you can control yourself not to sweat?"
Editor Xu laughed, "Of course. Top-tier idols manage themselves to an extreme degree."
Director Wang lit a cigarette. "Forget just sweating — even if there was a needle under Bo Qin’s foot, he could still sing and dance with a straight face and perfect performance."
"Stars have more fans and more exposure than actors — but they also take on far more criticism and pain. I don’t know about others, but Bo Qin definitely earned it."
Director Wang stubbed out the cigarette. Seeing Bo Qin zoning out, he scolded, "I'm complimenting you! Can you at least look serious?"
Bo Qin was extremely sensitive to heat; after filming the night scenes he was half-delirious. Now he was sluggishly getting his makeup removed while Xiao Zhu fanned him.
Since his stylist Tony was still on vacation, Bo Qin had been using the crew's makeup artist. While removing his lip makeup, the artist suddenly asked, "Mr. Bo, what's 7 + 8?"
Xiao Zhu’s electric fan fell to the ground with a thud.
Bo Qin, extremely attuned to people’s moods, picked up the faint mocking and disdain in the makeup artist’s voice. He opened his eyes and calmly said, "15."
The makeup artist laughed. "Oh, I thought you looked a little heat-struck, so I figured I’d quiz you with some simple math to wake you up!"
Later, when Bo Qin got into the RV, he asked Xiao Zhu for his phone — only to see that Weibo had been uninstalled. Stretching out his hand, he said, "Give me your phone."
Xiao Zhu hesitated, but Bo Qin simply grabbed it.
Bo Qin opened the trending topics. No mention of his name — which made him feel vaguely uneasy. Then his gaze caught on a topic titled "The Greatest Failure of Nine Years of Compulsory Education."
He had a bad feeling and clicked on it.
A blogger — not a marketing account, just a regular movie commentator — had posted a compilation video of celebrities messing up: misspelling words, misreading idioms, failing to solve simple algebra questions, most clips from reality shows and interviews.
In the middle of the video, there it was: a clip of a reporter asking Bo Qin "What's 7 + 8?" — then a cut to Bo Qin answering "14."
Bo Qin closed the phone.
Xiao Zhu said, "Chen-jie said it’s hard to handle — better to just stay quiet, since we don’t have the full interview video."
Bo Qin nodded. He understood. It was from an early backstage interview during a rapid-fire Q&A, where he’d been asked things like "What's 2×7?", "Do you prefer bananas or watermelons?", "What's 7+8?" — quick, thoughtless answers were the norm.
The video had been maliciously edited to make him look like a fool.
It was a cheap shot — but effective.
Bo Qin had always been mocked for supposedly having a low level of education.
He reopened the phone and skimmed through the comments. Although the video included clips of more than ten celebrities, the top hate comments all targeted him.
...Fine, Bo Qin thought. After all, I'm the one who's popular.
The top comment read:
"I knew it! Bo Qin's lyrics must be written by Xiao Ran. How could 'Bo Three-Seconds' ever have the brains?"
—followed by a "dog head" emoji for sarcasm.
Bo Qin chuckled. He even wanted to personally ask how anyone could confuse Xiao Ran’s writing style with his own, when they had absolutely nothing in common.
He tossed the phone back to Xiao Zhu and said, "Buy a ticket back to A City."
Xiao Zhu carefully observed Bo Qin’s face — seeing him still smiling a little, he hurriedly texted Chen Jie: "He's fine, emotionally stable. Even smiled."
Chen Jie replied immediately:
"Great, he’s so mad he’s laughing."
Xiao Zhu:
"...Maybe. Or maybe he’s just laughing at their stupidity."
Before boarding the plane, Bo Qin received texts from Mama He and He Xizhou. Mama He had also sent several short videos.
Bo Qin opened Mama He’s first. It was a tour of a villa — she walked upstairs, narrating:
"Xiao Qin, your new house is finished! We even set up a professional composing studio and a dance studio for you. Do you like it?"
The second video showed a home theater.
"It's huge! We can watch your movies and shows here together!"
Bo Qin was infected by her excitement. He thought she sounded like a real estate agent trying to sell a house — and the thought made him laugh uncontrollably.
His hands trembling, he texted Mama He back: "I love it."
She instantly replied:
"Then come over tonight and take a look! I’m here too. Haven't seen you for half a month!"
Bo Qin kept typing and deleting replies, struggling to find the right words. His relationship with the He family was getting closer than he’d expected.
He switched to He Xizhou’s message — much simpler:
"The new house is ready. You can come anytime."
—followed by the villa’s address.
Bo Qin checked the address.
Yeah... properties in that neighborhood were so expensive he normally wouldn't even glance at them.
And even if he had the money, places there weren’t always available for sale.
Due to a flight delay, Bo Qin arrived in A City an hour late. He got into the car and immediately fell asleep. When he woke up, they still hadn't reached the studio.
Looking outside, he realized they weren’t taking the usual route.
Xiao Zhu said there were sasaengs (private stalker fans) chasing them, so they had to detour.
Bo Qin clicked his tongue impatiently.
Xiao Zhu said, "Chen-jie said there are stalkers even near your apartment at Bluewater Bay. The studio already issued a statement condemning them — it’s trending now. You’ll probably have to stay at a hotel tonight."
"Even at a hotel, they'll find me," Bo Qin sighed.
He tilted his head back, thought for a bit, and said, "Let's just go to the studio. I'll tough it out tonight."
Bo Qin’s mood sank again into familiar gloom. He put on his earphones and listened to his own songs on repeat, his face expressionless.
The phone vibrated constantly. Annoyed, he finally checked the messages — most were from Mama He.
Mama He:
"I saw your studio's post. How could people be so awful? Where are you staying tonight?"
Mama He:
"Come to Fengjiang Villa — it’s safe here."
Mama He:
"Tell me where you are. I’ll send someone to pick you up, okay?"
Mama He:
"You don't have to go back to S City for filming tomorrow, right? Just come straight to Fengjiang — it’s close to your studio."
Warmth bloomed in Bo Qin’s chest.
He switched to He Xizhou’s texts, much more concise:
"If you're coming, I'll send someone to get you."
Bo Qin massaged his temples, replied to Mama He to reassure her, and replied to He Xizhou:
"No need to send anyone. I'll drive over myself."
He Xizhou answered quickly:
"If I don't send someone, you won't even be able to get in."
...Alright. Guess he really had no clue about this level of wealth.
When He Xizhou’s people arrived — tall men in black suits and sunglasses, all towering over 1.9 meters — Xiao Zhu clutched Bo Qin’s arm and said, "Bro, are you sure you’re safe with them?"
Bo Qin: "...Probably?"
The night wind was cool and sharp. When Bo Qin got out at Fengjiang, he shivered. His hoodie and shorts offered little protection.
As they led him into the elevator, Bo Qin thought — maybe he should take back his casual offer to "split the house cost" with He Xizhou. His tiny studio and wallet couldn't even begin to compare.
The moment the door opened, Mama He hugged him tightly.
Bo Qin's heart softened completely. He gently patted her back, at a loss for words.
She looked him over and said, "You’ve gotten thinner again."
Bo Qin smiled, casually deflecting, answering her questions — no, he wasn’t hungry, no, he hadn’t lost weight, yes, everything was going well.
In the living room, he saw He Xizhou — lounging on the sofa in soft loungewear, silver-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, reading a book.
Good lighting flatters good looks — and He Xizhou was already breathtaking. The warm yellow reading light softened his sharp features. When he looked up from the book and met Bo Qin's gaze, he had a clean, gentle aura.
He Xizhou slipped in a bookmark, carefully closed the book, his long fingers tracing the spine. Standing up, he said to Bo Qin:
"Good evening."
Comments
Post a Comment