After Transmigrating into a Professional Bootlicker, I Messed Up - Chapter 70.1

Lin Luo lay in bed, her mind drifting between thoughts until she fell asleep without realizing it. When she woke up, her phone was filled with messages. She went through them with practiced ease, replying to the ones that needed responses. Then, out of habit, she tried to find Ji Chi’an’s contact in her chat list but noticed he wasn’t there.

Usually, after her naps, she’d find Ji Chi’an’s morning, afternoon, and evening messages waiting, complete with daily updates—even if they were sometimes bland recaps, she enjoyed them, finding them oddly reassuring. Only now, as she looked around and couldn’t find his messages, did she remember she had blocked him.

After a brief ten-second struggle, she bit her lip, hesitated, then added Ji Chi’an back.

The second she did, “Ding-dong!” A message popped up,

“Luo Luo, I’m home now. Remember to eat well and get plenty of rest.”

Startled, Lin Luo glanced around the room, half-expecting to spot a hidden camera, but after a quick search, she decided Ji Chi’an wouldn’t go that far. She looked back at her phone and saw another message from him:

“Are you still mad?”

“Hmph, no way,” she thought. Not only had he promised to stay by her side until filming was over, but he had also left without saying goodbye!

Annoyed, she jabbed a message back at him, “How did you know I unblocked you? Are you watching me?”

[Hubby]: “I was worried you’d stop being mad and that I’d miss my chance to reach you, so I’ve been messaging you every ten minutes.”

[Hubby]: “I went back home because you told me I couldn’t come near you for at least two weeks. I agree, I was in the wrong, so I’m respecting your wish and waiting for your forgiveness.”

[Hubby]: “I’ll still fulfill all the promises I made to you during the day.”

[Hubby]: “Be good, you can be mad, just don’t hurt yourself over it.”

Ji Chi’an continued sending a series of quick messages as if fearing she might block him again. Lin Luo couldn’t help but feel a tinge of sweetness, admiring how quickly he typed. How was he so patient, gentle, and always ready to soothe her, never once showing anger?

However, there was still a hint of frustration. This man could be so frustratingly straightforward! Did he really think her “stay away” order meant to leave her alone and go home? Didn’t he know a girl’s anger could be solved with a kiss? Ugh! Lin Luo, are you secretly hoping for one? What a naughty thought!

Embarrassed, she rubbed her nose. Truthfully, her anger had mostly faded. A little coaxing before bed, a good night’s sleep, and she’d be over it—especially if Ji Chi’an had been here to hold her. But, somehow, his carefulness only left her feeling emptier.

As they say, the more you care, the more you tend to mess up. Ji Chi’an, terrified of upsetting her, treated her anger like a disaster, handling it so delicately that his attempts to please her fell flat. And so, Lin Luo, feeling a bit abandoned, secretly added another tally mark against him.

Men could be so clueless.

Still, Lin Luo clung to her last bit of pride, keeping her “cool and detached” persona intact. She didn’t block Ji Chi’an again, but she went a full two weeks without sending him a single playful sticker.

After Ji Chi’an’s departure, the whole production crew seemed to breathe easier. With the pressure of having a “VIP backer” constantly around—especially one tied to Lin Luo, the second lead—the tension was palpable. Now, with Ji Chi’an gone, everyone relaxed, and filming progressed smoothly.

The director, Chen Ping, became less restrained, and with him and Lin Luo in high spirits, their scenes went by effortlessly. Not to mention, Fang Xi, thrilled to see Lin Luo finally gaining weight, proudly observed that her once-slimmed-down figure had regained some healthy curves. Fang Xi, like a proud mom, almost teared up seeing the scale finally move up.

Lin Luo’s acting also improved from her initial reliance on instinct. She was adding her own understanding, making her performances feel increasingly natural. The director, writers, and even other actors began to acknowledge her as a true talent with a promising future.

On the last day of filming, Director Li Sen called Lin Luo aside for a private conversation. Despite his age, he looked at her with an intensity tempered by years of experience. Clad in a faded T-shirt and shorts, his face wore the stern expression she had come to expect. Lin Luo stood before him, head slightly bowed, ready to accept his critique.

She knew, despite her rising status, it would be foolish to act arrogantly here. Li Sen had been the first to take a chance on her as a director. His talents and character qualified him as her mentor, and though her “borrowed” acting skills had propelled her, she understood there was still so much to learn.

Seeing her humility, Li Sen’s expression softened. When he initially cast her, it had been her vibrant beauty that convinced him she was perfect for her role. He figured, given her looks, that even a bit of acting coaching would produce decent results. Her screen test had already surprised him, but with her ensuing controversies, he almost reconsidered.

It was only after Ji Chi’an personally vouched for her character and genuine interest in acting that he allowed her to stay on. And Lin Luo had proven herself, showing a dedication to both her craft and the crew that earned her everyone’s respect.

🌟 Kliraz’s Insightful Corner 🌟

Ji Chi’an’s “hourly check-ins” fit right into Chinese relationship culture, where constant messaging shows affection and care. But for Lin Luo, it’s a classic meme situation—she’s mad but didn’t ask him to leave! (ノಠ ∩ಠ)ノ Ji’s overkill is hilarious and a lesson in the timeless art of “reading the room.”

Did you know? The “CEO boyfriend” character is a popular trope in Chinese dramas, embodying the disciplined yet doting type. Ji Chi’an’s regular messages are a form of psychological ritual, common for high-stress personalities who thrive on routine and predictability to manage anxiety (*≧▽≦).

With Ji gone, the set atmosphere shifts from tense to relaxed. This power shift is actually a quirky phenomenon on many Chinese film sets—when the main sponsor isn’t around, everyone breathes easier. Lin Luo finally gets to focus, and with Director Li’s guidance, she’s quickly making her mark!

So, what would you do? Block Ji Chi’an a little longer, or unblock him and let the messages keep coming? (｡•̀ᴗ-)