The set of Palace of Intrigue was buzzing with the usual chaos of a big-budget historical drama.
Extras in elaborate Qing Dynasty costumes milled about, crew members shouted adjustments, and the air smelled of artificial fog and cheap catering.
Ye Chen stood quietly in a corner, reviewing his lines for the hundredth time.
It was only a supporting role the loyal general who dies heroically in episode twelve but it was the biggest break he'd had in four years of grinding through walk-on parts and unpaid student films.
At twenty-four, he still believed that talent and hard work would eventually open the right doors.
"Ye Chen, come here a second." Director Wang Hai's voice cut through the noise.
The man was in his late fifties, famous for commercial hits and infamous for his temper and favoritism.
He waved Ye Chen over to a small circle: the lead actors, the producer, and Wang Hai's nephew, Wang Ming a twenty-year-old with sharp features, expensive clothes, and zero professional acting credits.
Ye Chen walked over, bowing politely. "Director Wang."
Wang Hai barely glanced up from his phone. "We're making some cast adjustments. The general role is going to Ming'er."
The words landed like a quiet punch. Ye Chen kept his expression steady. "May I ask why?"
Wang Hai shrugged. "He's got the right image. Fresher face, better for marketing. You'll stay on the production something smaller. We'll find you a spot."
Wang Ming leaned against a prop pillar, smirking faintly. "Nothing personal, man. Just how it works."
Ye Chen felt the heat rise, but he swallowed it. "Director, I've been preparing this character for months. I know I can deliver what the script needs."
Wang Hai finally looked at him, eyes cool. "I'm sure you can. But this is a commercial project. We need poster faces that move tickets and streaming numbers. Ming'er brings investor confidence." He turned to the producer.
"Update the cast list. Keep Ye Chen on payroll for now background general or something."
The producer nodded.
Ye Chen's gaze shifted to Liu Xiaoxiao, his girlfriend of two years, standing just behind Wang Ming. She was the female third lead, a role she'd been excited about for weeks. She avoided his eyes.
"Xiaoxiao?" he said quietly.
She met his gaze for a second, then looked away. "Ye Chen… don't make this awkward. It's just work."
The implication hung in the air. Over the past weeks, he'd noticed her spending more time with Wang Ming "rehearsing lines," she'd said.
Late-night texts she'd brush off. He hadn't wanted to believe it.
"You knew about this?" His voice stayed low.
Wang Ming chuckled, sliding an arm casually around Liu Xiaoxiao's shoulders. "Come on, babe. Let's go over that tea-house scene."
She didn't pull away.
Ye Chen stood frozen as the group turned, already talking about lunch plans. No one else in the circle spoke up. Crew members nearby kept their heads down.
He walked off set without another word, the rolled script tight in his fist.
That night, he sat alone in his tiny rented room on the outskirts of Hengdian Film City. One room, a hot plate, a second-hand laptop with a cracked screen.
The walls were covered in printed stills from classic films In the Mood for Love, The Godfather, Parasite. Reminders of why he'd come here.
His phone buzzed relentlessly. Industry WeChat groups lit up with messages:
"Ye Chen's role in Palace got cut given to Wang Hai's nephew."
"Apparently he pushed back a little too hard when they told him."
"Better not cast him for now Wang family's touchy."
Some added laughing emojis.
No one had seen him shout or cause a scene.
But in an industry built on connections, quietly questioning a director's nepotism decision was offense enough. Word spread fast: difficult, ungrateful, not worth the risk.
Blacklisted. Just like that.
He opened a bottle of cheap baijiu and drank straight from it. The burn felt honest at least something was real tonight.
By the third or fourth swig, the room blurred at the edges. He leaned back on the creaky bed, staring at the peeling ceiling.
And then the world went gold.
A soft, unnatural light blossomed in front of his eyes, like a projector in his brain. Golden characters floated in the air.
[Ding! Detecting host's unfulfilled potential and extreme emotional fluctuation…]
[Entertainment King Face-Slap System binding in progress… 10%… 50%… 100%]
[Binding successful!]
Ye Chen blinked hard. Once. Twice. The words were still there, replaced by a glowing blue panel straight out of a video game.
[Host: Ye Chen]
[Age: 24]
[Current Level: 1 (Rookie Actor)]
[Skills: Basic Acting (Intermediate), Script Analysis (Beginner)]
[Fame Points: 0]
[Available Rewards: None]
A calm voice spoke directly inside his skull.
[Welcome, host. This system exists to assist you in becoming the undisputed king of the entertainment world...]
Ye Chen sat up too fast, the room spinning. He rubbed his eyes until they hurt.
"Nope. Definitely drunk," he muttered, voice thick. "Cheap baijiu giving me VR hallucinations now. Great."
He waved his hand through the panel. His fingers passed straight through, but it didn't flicker.
"Okay, that's… new." He let out a short, hiccuping laugh that wasn't really laughter.
"Face-slap system? Really? What's next, truck shows up and isekais me?"
The panel waited patiently.
He flopped back onto the bed, staring at it upside-down. "Tomorrow I'm switching to beer. This stuff is messing with my head."
[New Mission Unlocked: First Step Back]
[Objective: Secure a new role within 30 days...]
"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, eyelids heavy. The golden glow pulsed gently, almost soothing.
"Tell me when I'm sober, system bro."
He reached for the bottle again, thought better of it, and let his arm drop.
The last thing he remembered before passing out was the faint blue light still hovering in his vision, like a phone screen he'd forgotten to turn off.
Probably just a dream.
Everything would be normal in the morning.