`Chapter 33

Chapter 33

The broadcasting phenomenon of Inverse Scale was far beyond what the term “hit show” could describe.

Within just a week of its premiere, the platform heat index on Watermelon Peach surged past 12,000, not only breaking historical records but also rocketing to the top of the overall rankings with a clear gap.

On social media, discussion continued to heat up: #BlackAndWhiteDuel#, #HighlightActing#, #PlotFastAccurateFierce# and other topics dominated Weibo’s trending searches, while lead actors Liu River and Liang Yicheng held their positions at the top of popularity charts, unshakable.

Although Doujia reviews hadn’t opened yet, the click-through numbers for Inverse Scale had already left all competition behind, and word-of-mouth was visibly “exploding.” Industry insiders widely agreed that as long as the subsequent plot didn’t collapse badly, Inverse Scale had already secured the crown of the year’s top hit drama in advance.

The commercial value of the drama also staged a “counterattack” miracle. Advertising deals went from initially being ignored to now being in extreme demand. From episode ten onward, pre-roll, mid-roll, and post-roll ads bloomed everywhere, with cooperating brands increasing to over twenty, and an average of 4.7 ads per episode. With full-time VIP locking, new member acquisition far exceeded the norm, leading netizens to jokingly say: “The Watermelon Peach CEO’s face must be smiling crookedly.”

Last year, Watermelon Peach’s performance was bleak, with several highly anticipated dramas failing miserably, truly “dragging to the bottom.” The sudden rise of Inverse Scale was like a “peerless hero,” not only reversing the platform’s decline but also driving the parent company’s stock price upward against the trend.

Truly explosive dramas have the alchemy of turning stone into gold, boosting the fame of all actors.

Inverse Scale was exactly such a case. Aside from the rising popularity of the two male leads and Ye Peiqian, who played “Xu Yaqing,” many supporting actors also successfully gained attention. One henchman, when jumping into a lake to chase the culprit, was mocked for exaggeratedly comical movements, “he could enter the Southeast Asia diving fish-smashing contest”; the actor playing the villain Wang Zhaoan caused a frenzy across the internet with a hypnotic, reckless hip-twisting dance at a nightclub, imitated by countless fans.

Of course, the highest topic remained the “Double Chen CP” of Chen Shouzhuo and Chen Xiang. This delicate relationship skirting the edge of taboo once dominated the trending list on Tremor Voice, with derivative videos easily surpassing hundreds of millions of views, attracting countless fans.

Whenever Shi Yin scrolled through those “ship to death” derivative edits on her phone, her vision went dark for a moment. She felt a whirlwind of emotions and could only console herself: “Maybe the audience now… just really likes a little thrill.”

On the morning of the first day of the Lunar New Year, Shi Yin was awakened by a barrage of urgent calls. Groggily reaching for her phone, she heard Wen Jinhe’s crisp command: “Open the door. I’m downstairs at your place.”

“Wen Jie, today’s the first day of the New Year…” Shi Yin buried her face in her pillow, her voice muffled and heavy, “aren’t you going to pay New Year greetings?”

“Already done, open the door.”

Shi Yin sighed, struggling to get up, wrapped herself in a blanket to open the door, then shivered back onto the sofa, folding herself tightly into a cocoon with only her head exposed, muttering continuously: “So cold, so cold!”

Wen Jinhe entered in a full-length black down coat, carrying hot soy milk and steamed buns. She scanned the sparse living room, frowning slightly: “Get an electric heater or an oil radiator. Never mind, I’ll bring you one tomorrow.”

She set down the breakfast, naturally pulled out a chair, and sat, eyes lingering on Shi Yin’s face for a moment: “Where are your parents? Didn’t you say your family’s from Ning City? They’re not coming to spend the New Year with you?”

Shi Yin buried half her face in the blanket: “They’re busy with work. I’m an adult now, I can manage.”

“Busy even during New Year? What do they do?”

“Teacher.” Shi Yin’s reply was as concise as a telegram.

Wen Jinhe glanced at her, noticing her clear unwillingness to elaborate, and smoothly changed the topic: “There’s a livestream tomorrow night at eight. A few supporting actors from Inverse Scale will join for promotion. It’s a platform requirement, get ready.”

“Okay.” Shi Yin poked her head out of the blanket and nodded cheerfully, “But I’ve never livestreamed. Anything I shouldn’t say?”

Wen Jinhe particularly liked this about her: quick to understand, highly cooperative, unlike some young artists who fuss over every schedule.

“No spoilers, no brand logos on you.”

“Someone asked me to shoot an ad?” Shi Yin immediately caught the key point.

“There’s a mid-roll for sparkling water,” Wen Jinhe said casually, “It was originally for the leads, but Ye Peiqian has a competing endorsement, Liu River and Liang Yicheng don’t take this kind of commercial, and you’re the hottest, so it’s you.”

“Yay!” Shi Yin cheered, wriggling happily in her cocoon.

“Also,” Wen Jinhe added slowly, “there’s a web mobile game looking for you to endorse…”

Shi Yin opened her mouth in anticipation.

“I refused it.” Wen Jinhe’s tone was firm.

Shi Yin immediately responded obediently: “Oh.” No trace of dissatisfaction on her face.

“Your commercial deals aren’t handled by me; this time I’m stepping in,” Wen Jinhe said calmly, looking at her, “But I must remind you—after Inverse Scale became popular, many minor actors have started livestreams, endorsements, making crazy money. I know everyone needs income, but you can’t recklessly make money, over-consume your own traffic—you’ll crash eventually.”

She leaned forward, gaze sharp: “Your path is long. This is just the start. You must stay steady.”

“I understand.” Shi Yin said softly. She didn’t yet feel the reality of being “famous.” Mist Walker was a high-quality drama with a limited audience; Inverse Scale was different, appealing to almost everyone watching TV. Combined with the short video derivative content, she indeed became an overnight sensation.

“One more thing.” Wen Jinhe took a document from her bag, “The co-production you asked me to inquire about has news.”

“Mr. Qu Zhiqiang was hospitalized recently, so the project was delayed. He was supposed to come to the mainland for casting personally, but his health doesn’t allow it now. Auditions will be held in Red Harbor, and local Red Harbor actors are already eyeing this project.”

Shi Yin sat up straighter, wrapping the blanket around herself.

Compared to mainland actors, Red Harbor actors generally offer higher cost-performance for pay and more stable professionalism. They mostly maintain a low-key, diligent attitude, treating acting as a craft to study. Although Hong Kong-style films have declined in recent years and more artists choose to develop in the mainland, it doesn’t mean the local talent is weak. On the contrary, in action films, Red Harbor has a complete stunt system, including the “X Family,” with abundant martial arts performer resources.

Wen Jinhe said: “The script isn’t available yet; I only heard it’s a film about thieves, registered under the name League of Master Thieves.”

Shi Yin’s eyes lit up: “Can I attend the audition?”

Wen Jinhe sized her up, shaking her head doubtfully: “If you want to audition, you’ll have to fly to Red Harbor and compete with local actors. And—” she paused, “they’re looking for an action actress. Do you think your three-trick skills are enough?”

“Wen Jie, I haven’t missed any martial arts classes. I’m actually good!” Shi Yin protested, immediately tossing off the blanket, dropping her shoulders and elbows, and performing a set of intermediate Wing Chun punches.

Wen Jinhe didn’t understand martial arts, but she could tell that Shi Yin’s moves weren’t just for show—they at least looked convincing. She thoughtfully rubbed her chin: “Action films are tough to shoot. Can you handle it? And you don’t even know where it will be filmed. It might be out of town or even overseas. What about school?”

Shi Yin pondered for a moment, her gaze firm: “I want to try. I can ask the instructor for leave, even make up exams. But this opportunity is rare; it would be too regrettable to miss it.”

According to the system gossip, Qu Zhiqiang’s movie was looking for a female lead. Although the role ranked third, considering the first and second spots were for internationally renowned actors, this would undoubtedly be a high-profile commercial film. If she landed it, it would be a significant achievement on her resume.

“Okay,” Wen Jinhe said, no longer debating, “I’ll find someone.”

Shi Yin eagerly approached, peeling an orange for her: “Will it be hard? I heard there’s a wall between the Hong Kong and mainland networks…”

Wen Jinhe chewed two bites, teeth chilled from the cold: “When Guan Xi was filming the cop movie, I met a few producers. Let’s try it first; if it doesn’t work, we’ll talk… Ugh, your place is freezing. I’m leaving.”

She stood up, tightened her coat, and jogged toward the door, reminding her again as she left: “Remember to prepare for the livestream, and—”

Wen Jinhe pointed to the corner: “The electric heater will arrive tomorrow.”

~

The next night’s livestream maintained over 100,000 viewers the entire time. Shi Yin appeared in front of the camera wearing a soft off-white sweater, waving with a smile: “Hello everyone, I’m Shi Yin, playing Chen Xiang in Inverse Scale.”

The comments immediately flooded in:

“The daughter is here! The only pure white jasmine~”

“Wife is so beautiful! So gentle-looking!”

“Wait… sis, did you turn on beauty mode? Why is your chin so pointy like a needle?”

“Turn off the beauty mode! Such a waste of natural beauty!”

Shi Yin, with no livestream experience, realized she was using the default settings and, flustered by the audience’s reminders, hurriedly turned off the beauty filter. In the real camera, her skin was delicate, features soft, and she looked even more stunning.

“Wow! Instant cinematic quality! Stars and internet celebrities really are different!”

“Does this level of beauty really exist? Beauty mode actually worsens it.”

“Chen Shouzhuo faces such a beautiful daughter every day, he’s truly patient! (dog head emoji)”

“I admire the boss’s self-control!”

For some of the more absurd comments, Shi Yin strategically chose to ignore them, pretending not to see.

The livestream was six-person split-screen, so she didn’t have to talk constantly. But since the leads were absent, most viewers were there for Shi Yin. The host kept directing topics to her: “What about Chen Xiang? Any special thoughts on working with Teacher Liang Yicheng this time?”

Shi Yin immediately switched to “business mode,” smiling politely, speaking flawlessly: “Teacher Liang’s acting is excellent and a senior I should learn from. In the drama, my father Chen Shouzhuo is a complex villain. He is thoughtful, and every action has a far-reaching purpose and plan…”

—She emphasized “father” and “thoughtful,” with the subtext: stop shipping weird CPs!

However, the audience’s reading comprehension always surpassed her imagination:

“Got it, purposeful actions → including adopting her. This is clearly premeditated!”

“She calls him dad… (nosebleed)”

“The daughter is so filial, even advertising for dad outside of the drama, love it, love it.”

Shi Yin accidentally saw these comments and immediately wanted to close her eyes: “…Love it, love it? More like die, die.”

The livestream ended smoothly, but Chen Xiang’s breakout index hovered at Lv2. In the following episodes, Chen Xiang was kidnapped, her heart grew more closed off, and under Chen Shouzhuo’s training, she fired the first shot of her transformation. Every point Shi Yin thought could “explode” failed to trigger a qualitative change, with the maximum index only reaching around 2.4.

Just as Shi Yin thought the main task was about to fail for the first time, episode seventeen of Inverse Scale aired.

~

Recently, Chen Shouzhuo had been swamped with trouble and had to pull in a new face to serve as Chen Xiang’s personal bodyguard.

Although Chen Xiang outwardly returned to normal, her psychological shadow had not fully lifted. She was like a rose with thorns, wary of any unfamiliar approach.

She curled up on the leather sofa in the living room, her champagne-colored slip dress slipping off one shoulder, revealing smooth, glowing skin. Her peach blossom eyes held no warmth, only icy scrutiny, like a seemingly lazy but actually twitching ragdoll cat, coldly assessing the man in front of her.

“Look up,” she commanded, her expression deliberately distant.

The bodyguard stood in the center of the room, his black suit outlining broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He obeyed, lifting his chin, the rolling Adam’s apple casting a shadow under his shirt collar.

“Your tie is crooked,” Chen Xiang suddenly smiled softly, trying to pierce his calm facade. “Didn’t my dad teach you to tie your tie properly when facing the master?”

The bodyguard’s deep eyes flickered, yet he remained silent, only raising his knuckled hand to swiftly adjust the tie.

“Go out.” Chen Xiang suddenly grew tired of this one-sided performance, turning her head away, refusing to look at him.

The bodyguard nodded lightly. As he turned, the muscles of his shoulders and back curved smoothly under the suit. Chen Xiang stared at his broad, upright back, narrowing her eyes slightly, like a cat whose territory was being invaded.

“Miss: don’t touch me.jpg”

“This bodyguard looks quite proper, heroic even, totally not like someone from the underworld.”

“Xiang Xiang is pure yet seductive, makes me want to be that slipping shoulder strap.”

“She’s so teasing, and he’s so patient.”

The incident occurred on the third night.

Chen Xiang was washing her hair in the bathroom, the dense foam stinging her eyes. The sound of hot water drowned out the faint noise at the door lock.

Chen Xiang paused suddenly, an instinctive alertness rising within her. Sensing something, she quickly grabbed a towel to wrap herself, stepping on the wet tiles, and pushed the shower door slightly open to peek outside.

“Don’t move.”

A low voice came from her side. The next second, a warm, dry hand pressed on the back of her neck, pushing her head back into the shower. Chen Xiang gasped, swallowing some foam-laden water, and through her blurred vision saw the bodyguard swing the bathroom door closed, isolating her from potential danger.

Through the frosted glass, Chen Xiang noticed him loosening his tie, the muscles in his neck tensed sharply, and then he tangled with the intruding shadows outside, with occasional muffled thuds and brief cries.

By the time she tied her bathrobe and opened the door, the bodyguard was wiping his knuckles, two unconscious men lying on the floor.

“They…” Chen Xiang’s voice trembled.

Chen Shouzhuo had too many enemies. She wasn’t sure if these two intended to kidnap her or take her life outright.

The bodyguard turned, his gaze lingering on her dripping hair for a moment, then lowered his eyes in controlled restraint: “Handled it.”

“Oh my god, who knew the act of him adjusting his tie could be so intoxicatingly restrained.”

“You say he didn’t look? He still knew how to close the door! You say he did look? Not a single wandering glance!”

“Miss appears calm on the surface, but her ears are bright red ah ah ah!”

“One pure and charming, one restrained and patient, isn’t this the perfect match?”

Since that night, certain things quietly began to change. He remained as silent as a shadow, yet after she fell asleep, he would quietly raise the air conditioning two degrees. Though she maintained distance, her gaze began to subtly follow his back, as if trying to sense the warmth hidden within him.

Until one stormy night, Chen Xiang encountered a gunfight on her way home. Though protected and unharmed, the tension and post-incident heartbeat lingered.

The black sedan moved steadily through the torrential rain, the air conditioner humming low. Rain hammered the windows, a subtle, dangerous emotion spreading silently.

Chen Xiang leaned against the wide backseat, staring unfocused out the window. The blurred curtain of rain blurred neon into dreamy light spots. Her gaze wandered aimlessly before slowly settling forward.

A mixture of rebellion, testing, and an unnoticed trace of dependence quietly grew in her heart.

Director Gu Jizhou employed a zooming shot here—

The frame remained fixed on the rearview mirror inside the car, the focus slowly shifting first to Chen Xiang’s face. Her delicate features revealed gentle stubbornness, her eyes like hooks, piercing the air, locking onto the figure ahead, as if swearing not to relent until his icy facade was broken.

Then the focus began to blur. Chen Xiang’s provocative expression softened gradually, while the driver became clear—in the rearview mirror, the bodyguard’s deep gaze secretly glanced at Chen Xiang through the tiny glass. A single restrained look, then his eyes lowered to avoid contact.

Chen Xiang lowered her head, diverting her gaze.

A few seconds of mutual glance was enough for countless CP fans to “wall-climb” without hesitation:

“The plot stretches to the limit, the love stretches to the limit, yet never crosses the line. This is adult love.”

“I know you can’t resist looking at me, just like I can’t resist falling… kill me to cheer them on!”

“Sorry Chen Shouzhuo, I’m climbing over to the bodyguard brother!”

“I’m dead from fangirling, the sexual tension is unreal, makes my legs go weak more than an actual kiss.”

“Cursing the bright moon for not shining only on me, resenting the gentle breeze for brushing past without kissing me alone…”

“This shot is god-tier! The director is amazing! The actors are incredible!”

“Bodyguard brother, why are you hiding! If you can, admit it! I’m dying here!”

The plot was stuck at the peak of teasing and tension, and because the platform had stopped updating for two days, CP fans were left tearing their hair out, unsatisfied, forced to survive on fan edits.

A skilled editor precisely captured the in-car eye contact, creating a video titled Don’t Avoid My Eyes, paired with a melancholic BGM, “I’m waiting for you, waiting for this rain to end…” Once released, it went viral, sweeping across major platforms, igniting a collective frenzy among CP fans.

Renowned film critic Riverside Film Talk commented:

“Two unknown newcomers contributed the most tension-filled ‘god-tier shot’ on screen this year. Lovers’ eye contact is an indirect kiss of the soul. Chen Xiang’s gaze combines innocent seduction with moth-to-flame provocation, unforgettable. After researching further, it’s even more impressive—actor Shi Yin is only nineteen, yet shows such layered expressiveness, with limitless potential. The bodyguard’s return gaze is subtle and restrained, brimming with intensity. Dramatic scenes are delicate, action scenes crisp, a rare all-round talent in the new generation. A good actor can build a complete emotional world with just their eyes.”

Another influential reviewer, Frost Film Watch, reposted the video with commentary:

“In just two episodes, the scenes conveyed hundreds of forms of love. No kisses, not a single explicit declaration, yet every glance, every silent protection fills the screen with affection. This is a long-lost, subtly Eastern beauty, capturing romance in the pauses. I must say, director Gu Jizhou is extraordinarily skilled, especially at capturing the complex and fragile beauty of female characters. I’m amazed that modern TV still manages to show true ‘love.’”

On the sixth day of the Lunar New Year, the Jianqiao crew officially resumed filming. Shi Yin appeared on set with two massive dark circles under her eyes, looking completely drained of energy.

Xu Qingsui walked over holding a thermos: “Yo, just after the New Year, your fame level doubled twice over, I really hit the jackpot.”

Shi Yin: “…”

Passing by, Yan Wen patted her shoulder earnestly: “Being popular is good, but you need to stay calm and focus on acting properly.”

Shi Yin: “…”

Zheng Bin and Su Feibai chatted as they came over, curious: “Miss, tell us, did you end up together with that bodyguard brother? Our whole family has been on edge watching!”

Shi Yin expressionlessly put on sunglasses: “No spoilers, watch for yourself.”

She almost fled into the lounge, staring numbly at the system screen. The mission progress indicator was glaring—Chen Xiang’s popularity had surpassed Lv3 and was still slowly rising. This should have been a happy moment, yet she only sighed.

It’s over… it’s really over now…

Tian Tian jumped in, eyes shining as she saw her: “Shi Xiaoyin, my treasure! I was scrolling short videos over the New Year, eight out of ten were you! The in-car eye contact with bodyguard brother was too perfect, how are you so good at acting?”

“Cannot fangirl,” Shi Yin said flatly.

“Ah?” Tian Tian froze. She had become an assistant later and hadn’t seen the early episodes of Reverse Scale: “I wasn’t fangirling over you and Chen Shouzhuo. I’ve already broken the filter for Liang Tian Cai, how could I fangirl over him? I fangirl over you and bodyguard brother!”

She shook Shi Yin’s hand: “Give me a spoiler, did you two get together? Anyway, it airs tonight, just tell me, I promise not to tell anyone.”

“This…” Shi Yin forced a voice out between her teeth, “…cannot fangirl either.”

“Why?” Tian Tian asked, confused.

Shi Yin covered her face in anguish, using all her strength to produce a faint, desperate voice: “Because… he’s Yan Lang.”

Bodyguard brother, Yan Lang.

The undercover cop who had been shadowing Chen Shouzhuo for three years, secretly passing messages, causing his plans to fail, and after being exposed, was forced to “die,” later fully turned dark and hacked off all limbs and executed with a gunshot to the head by Chen Xiang—undercover police.

The two-day broadcast hiatus was finally over. That evening, countless viewers teased by the “god-tier shot” eagerly flooded the Peach Video platform, ready to indulge in the “most thrilling” and “maximally ambiguous” romantic feast of the year.

And then…

Nothing happened.

That night, Reverse Scale’s ratings hit a new high, and the Peach Video servers even crashed for two minutes due to the sudden influx.

In sharp contrast—CP fans across the internet were wailing in despair.

Author’s Note: Did you forget the name of the main mission? [Let me check]

·

This chapter’s in-car eye contact scene was inspired by the movie □□ Bodyguard.