Demon Consort Runs into the Beijing Crown Prince - Chapter 20

After the opening ceremony, filming officially began.

Today’s set was a luxurious villa rented by the production crew, where several scenes featured Chu Muyun and Luo Yi in direct confrontation.

Following the morning’s “makeup precedence” incident, Luo Yi’s face remained dark, as if he were on the verge of quitting. However, when the assistant director shouted “Action!”, he managed to compose himself and slip into character. Apart from his somewhat wooden acting and frequent mispronunciation of lines, he caused no further trouble.

The makeup precedence incident had been a deliberate test. It’s 4202 now, the entertainment industry has long abandoned such practices. Since they’re not from the same company, why would anyone listen to him?

The production crew couldn’t possibly support such a demand. Their stance was clear, artists should rely on their own merits. Many dramas that didn’t initially become hits have seen characters gain popularity later, driving viewers to catch up.

If Chu Muyun were a small-time artist with no connections or backing, he might have been forced to concede. The production crew would likely have remained silent to avoid conflict. But now that the crew was firmly supporting Chu Muyun, Luo Yi had no choice but to drop the matter. He couldn’t force the issue.

Luo Yi had recently been trending negatively due to his fans’ online harassment. If he caused further trouble on the set of Misaligned and it leaked, public opinion would turn sharply against him.

In short, Luo Yi behaved himself, and today’s filming went relatively smoothly.

Chu Muyun certainly thought it went smoothly. Watching Luo Yi seethe inwardly while forced to hold his tongue brought him immense satisfaction.

The production team wasn’t filming scenes in chronological order. Today’s scenes focused on Bai Xiaoyang, the true young master, having just been brought back from the countryside. Coincidentally, it was also his birthday, and Father and Mother Gu were throwing him a birthday party at their mansion.

Before the party, Gu Minglun, the imposter young master, stopped Bai Xiaoyang. Smiling warmly, he feigned surprise, “Why are you still wearing those clothes? Didn’t Mom and Dad give you money to buy new ones?”

Bai Xiaoyang, dressed in a faded T-shirt with a peeling graphic, replied, “I didn’t buy any.”

His adoptive parents had been busy and couldn’t accompany him to the mall, so they sent him with the driver. Even the simplest thin shirt cost several thousand yuan, more than he could bear to spend. One shirt alone would cover his tuition for an entire semester.

Gu Minglun said, “You can’t possibly wear that to the birthday party. Mom and Dad would be upset. Let me grab some of my old clothes for you to change into.”

His expression and tone dripped with the condescending pity of a pampered young master, utterly detached from the realities of ordinary life.

At the birthday banquet, in the opulent dining hall, a massive cream cake sat at the center of the table as waiters presented course after course of exquisite dishes. Though Bai Xiaoyang, the male lead, was the birthday celebrant and should have been the center of attention, he wore Gu Minglun’s old clothes, looking awkward and out of place. The fit was passable, but Bai Xiaoyang’s slightly darker complexion and lack of refined bearing made it seem as if he were wearing stolen garments—ill-suited and inappropriate.

Meanwhile, the fake young master, seated beside Father and Mother Gu, shone like a radiant little prince, charming his adoptive parents as the family basked in harmonious warmth.

The male lead felt like an outsider.

After the family gathering, Gu Minglun approached Bai Xiaoyang in the corridor, seemingly offering a friendly reminder, “That bowl of tea during the meal was for rinsing your mouth, not for drinking.”

When Bai Xiaoyang nodded and murmured “Oh,” Gu Minglun chuckled, his voice light, soft, and melodious as music.

“Honestly, why did you even come back? This place isn’t for you. Wouldn’t you be more comfortable back in the countryside with some money?”

The cannon fodder male supporting character genuinely believed what he was saying at the time.

At this point, Gu Minglun hadn’t yet grown to hate the male lead enough to commit the cruel acts he would later. He was simply arrogant to the core, accustomed to looking down on the male lead from his privileged position.

Bai Xiaoyang declared, “This is my home. They’re my biological parents.”

Why shouldn’t I be allowed to return?

The camera then shifted to Chu Muyun, giving him a close-up. His face was strikingly beautiful, his eyes slightly widened, revealing a clear, innocent gaze that concealed the characteristic arrogance and cruelty of a pampered young master.

The original script had Chu Muyun saying, “I won’t let you steal my parents from me.”

Instead, Chu Muyun said, “You want our parents’ love, too? Fine, I can spare you a little. But just like the clothes you’re wearing, you’ll always be stuck with my hand-me-downs.”

At this stage, the male lead was beneath his notice, not even considered a threat.

“Great!” The director stood up and applauded enthusiastically.

The scene was a wrap.

Throughout the shoot, the director and assistant director exchanged subtle glances more than once.

Luo Yi was being overshadowed in every way.

The “makeup incident” already revealed his lack of confidence in his appearance. His character, Bai Xiaoyang, was a poor country boy with rough, slightly tanned skin and plain features—at best, conventionally decent-looking—and wore ill-fitting, outdated clothes. It was natural that he couldn’t compete with Chu Muyun, who played Gu Minglun, in terms of visual appeal, but Luo Yi refused to accept it.

He was being outshone. Luo Yi realized this, deeply resented it, and inadvertently amplified his discomfort on camera.

His posture was another issue. Luo Yi had always been criticized for his poor posture, while Chu Muyun’s was far superior to the average young actor’s—composed, elegant, and upright.

Every gesture, every expression of Chu Muyun’s, exuded the refined upbringing of a wealthy family. He truly embodied Gu Minglun, the fake young master.

Bai Xiaoyang, the true young master from the countryside, always felt inferior to the fake young master. Later, driven by a desire for his parents’ approval and a sudden infatuation with the male lead, he worked hard to improve himself and change.

This initial difference in appearance gradually extended to the overall strength of their auras.

During their scenes together, Luo Yi unconsciously found himself completely led by Chu Muyun’s performance—a phenomenon known as “being overshadowed.”

However, this dynamic perfectly suited their characters.

While less perceptive viewers might not notice the overshadowing, Luo Yi, who was acting opposite Chu Muyun, certainly felt it. As professionals, the directing team naturally sensed it too.

Apart from Luo Yi, everyone was satisfied.

As the director applauded, he thought, Chu Muyun’s performance is brilliant. Any discerning viewer will see it.

As for Luo Yi’s acting… well, it was stiff. A protagonist fresh from the countryside would naturally feel awkward at home, but this was excessive. Still, since he always performed this way, there was little point in demanding more. After all, no matter how he acted, his fans would dote on him.

After filming several scenes, it was lunchtime. Luo Yi’s team, acknowledging the crew’s hard work on the first day of shooting, brought a truckload of boxed meals for everyone.

The beautifully packaged boxes looked luxurious, complete with fruit and beverages.

Chu Muyun naturally declined Luo Yi’s offering, opting instead for a standard crew meal. It was decent enough—warm, with two meat dishes, one vegetable dish, and a large chicken leg.

He and Xiao Xing sat nearby to eat. Xiao Xing glanced at the truckload of fancy boxed meals.

“Do you want one?” Chu Muyun asked.

“Not really,” Xiao Xing replied. “I was just thinking, the RV has a fridge and a stove. I could cook something fresh for you myself—I’m actually a pretty good cook. You could rest in the RV after lunch.”

“Let’s skip it. It’s just the two of us, and firing up the stove would be too much trouble. We’re not in the middle of nowhere anyway, the crew meals are fine.”

Chu Muyun wasn’t particularly picky about food.

He remembered filming in a remote, impoverished area where conditions were truly harsh. By the time the crew meals arrived, they were stone cold. The fatty meat dishes became greasy and developed a strange, unpleasant taste. While the lead actors enjoyed specially packaged meals, minor supporting roles like his were stuck with cold leftovers.

As they chatted, Cheng Yu, the male lead, approached with his assistant, both carrying crew meals. They had also declined Luo Yi’s fancy takeout.

“You did great this morning,” Cheng Yu said with a smile.

“Thanks, you weren’t bad yourself,” Chu Muyun replied, not wanting to be rude to the friendly gesture. “Why didn’t you get any of the takeout over there?”

“Nah, the crew’s boxed lunches are pretty good,” Cheng Yu said, taking a bite of his meal. “Which company are you signed with? I heard it’s Tiansheng online?”

“I just switched companies, it hasn’t been officially announced yet. It’ll be announced soon,” Chu Muyun said.

“Oh,” Cheng Yu nodded thoughtfully. “A new company brings a fresh start. That’s good.”

Cheng Yu’s career had been thriving lately, and his popularity was soaring. Chu Muyun couldn’t figure out why he had come over. Was he curious about Chu Muyun’s background and trying to probe?

“I have a feeling you’ll blow up after this drama,” Cheng Yu said, half-jokingly. “Want to try stirring up some CP rumors between us?”

“Aren’t you already doing that with Luo Yi?” Chu Muyun glanced at Luo Yi.

“No way. His fans are terrifying—I wouldn’t dare mess with them.”

So you’re saying I’m an easy target?

Chu Muyun chuckled and flatly refused, “Brother, don’t mess with me. I just want to focus on acting.”

No way I’m stirring up any CP rumors. Not possible.

If I hadn’t met the Great King, I might have considered it. But now? Absolutely not.

“Hahaha, alright, I was just joking,” Cheng Yu said, dropping the topic.

That evening, after finishing his shoot, Chu Muyun rode back to the hotel in his van. Midway there, he sent a message to his pinned WeChat contact: [Boss, someone wanted to pair me up with them for a CP. I refused.]

The reply came swiftly: [Not allowed.]

Two minutes later, another message popped up: [I’ve already called Jin Ming. We’re adding a “no CP pairings” clause to your artist contract.]

Chu Muyun had previously signed a letter of intent. StarJoy was a new company formed after Huashi’s acquisition and restructuring, and the formal procedures were still underway. When the time came to sign the official contract and make the announcement, Lu Hanzhang’s last-minute addition of the clause wouldn’t pose any procedural issues.

As if trying to backtrack, the final message appeared: [Just focus on filming well. You don’t need these side-street CP tactics. I’ll ensure you have ample resources.]

Chu Muyun clutched his phone, chuckling endlessly.

The Great King, usually so sparing with his words, had suddenly launched into a self-explanatory monologue.

How transparently he’s trying to cover up his feelings.

[Alright, alright, I already said I refused! My official CP partner is reserved for you!]

Silence descended on the other end. He must have crashed again from another direct confession.