Demon Consort Runs into the Beijing Crown Prince - Chapter 21

The next day, Luo Yi’s team subtly altered his appearance. Bai Xiaoyang, the country bumpkin, was transformed into Luo Yi’s signature cool-guy image, shedding his “rustic” and “rough” look.

Whether the character fit or not, audience appeal didn’t matter, pleasing his fans was all that counted.

The production crew tacitly approved his makeover.

Chu Muyun couldn’t care less. After all, Luo Yi’s physical attributes paled in comparison to his own, and his charisma was far inferior. As long as Luo Yi kept his hands off his face, no matter how much “Bai Xiaoyang” tried to outshine him, “Gu Minglun” would always overshadow him with sheer presence.

After that, Luo Yi’s descent into laziness was even faster than Chu Muyun had anticipated.

For the first two days, he’d at least attempted to memorize his lines, albeit with numerous mistakes. But soon, he couldn’t even bother with that. Every time he opened his mouth, all that came out was “123123.”

This was possible because modern dramas rely on post-production dubbing to eliminate on-set noise, giving unprofessional actors ample room to slack off.

During their first scene together, Chu Muyun froze for a split second when he heard “123” for the first time, nearly forgetting his own lines.

“I’m having an art exhibition at the Arts Center this weekend. My parents are coming, will you stop by to show your support?”

“123123”

“Oh, I forgot you don’t understand art. People who don’t appreciate art must live such dull, monochrome lives.”

“123123”

“This is your ticket. You…”

“123123”

…This feels less engaging than acting opposite a humanoid robot.

Even though his co-star was less responsive than a machine, Chu Muyun diligently recited his lines. With his excellent memory, he could memorize them after just two readings. This skill not only ensured accurate lip-syncing for post-production dubbing but also allowed him to fully immerse himself in his character through nuanced delivery.

He loved acting and refused to slack off.

After filming wrapped for the day, Director Zhu Lei made a point of walking over and patting Chu Muyun on the shoulder, “Xiao Chu, I hope we can work together again in the future.”

Who wouldn’t want to collaborate with a talented and hardworking actor?

Zhu Lei had directed numerous TV dramas, including two major hits with impressive commercial success. This endorsement meant that Chu Muyun would now be at the top of Zhu Lei’s list for future projects.

“Absolutely. I look forward to our next collaboration as well,” Chu Muyun replied with a smile.

He removed his makeup and rode back to the hotel in his nanny van to rest.

Tonight, the official Weibo account for Misaligned released meticulously retouched promotional photos, building anticipation for the drama.

As always, Luo Yi’s fans dominated the comments, showering him with praise like “My husband is so handsome!” and “Our baby is absolutely stunning!” A few highly upvoted comments came from Cheng Yu’s fans, while one or two Cheng Yu-Luo Yi CP fans managed to squeeze in.

Chu Muyun retweeted the official post, chatted briefly with Lu Hanzhang, and went to bed. When he woke up, his Weibo notification showed 999+ messages.

Casually opening it, he was surprised to find that most weren’t from haters, but from casual fans leaving likes and comments:

[So beautiful!]

[A god has descended!]

[Can’t wait! #heart]

[Oh my god, this is exactly how I imagined Gu Minglun!]

Not long ago, there had been a fierce online battle, with Luo Yi’s fans making snide remarks that were promptly ridiculed by the crowd:

[Who asked for your opinion on other people’s taste? Do you live in the Pacific Ocean? Mind your own business!]

[At least he’s prettier than your idol. If you disagree, go hang yourself.]

In short, it was quite lively.

The tide was turning.

Chu Muyun scrolled through Weibo in a good mood, thinking, You haven’t seen the finished drama yet. Once it airs, the wind will completely change.

Filming for Misaligned continued smoothly.

Today’s scenes depicted the cannon fodder male supporting character, having sensed the male lead’s threat, fearing he would steal his parents’ affection, and resorting to underhanded “green tea” tactics to frame him.

In the Gu Family’s mansion, a brightly lit room had been converted into Gu Minglun’s art studio.

Suddenly, a loud crash erupted from the studio, followed by Gu Minglun’s anguished cry.

When Father Gu and Mother Gu rushed in, they found Gu Minglun sprawled beside his easel, while Bai Xiaoyang stood nearby, his face a mask of shock. The oil painting on the easel had fallen to the floor, its frame cracked at the corners.

Gu Minglun struggled to his feet, a distinct bruise marring his slender forearm. He hastily pulled down his rolled-up sleeve to conceal it.

He was dressed casually in a white T-shirt, work pants, and combat boots—an unrefined yet effortlessly artistic look. Splatters of colorful paint on his oversized clothes accentuated his frail figure, making him appear even more pitiful. His face was pale, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, and the corners of his eyes were reddened, yet he stubbornly held back his tears.

He evoked an instinctive protective urge, which, to a twisted mind, might manifest as a desire to inflict pain.

“Xiao Yang, what have you done to your brother again?!” Father Gu roared, storming toward Bai Xiaoyang. Mother Gu, her face etched with concern, helped Gu Minglun to his feet.

“Mom, Dad, I’m fine,” Gu Minglun said softly. “Someone smeared black paint all over the oil painting I finished last night. I just wanted to ask Xiao Yang about it. He probably felt wrongly accused and pushed me… I’m really okay.”

The fallen painting depicted a flower-strewn stream, now marred by a large, jarring patch of black.

“Bai Xiaoyang, what’s going on here?” Father Gu demanded sternly.

“Xiao Yang, if you did it, just admit it,” Gu Minglun added. “Mom and Dad won’t—”

“It wasn’t me!” Bai Xiaoyang’s chest heaved as he shouted angrily. “I didn’t do anything! I didn’t push him! He’s deliberately framing me!”

Perhaps the atmosphere was right, or perhaps Chu Muyun’s performance was simply too compelling. Or maybe it was because the lines were short. For once, Luo Yi didn’t resort to counting “1, 2, 3” but instead roared out the original dialogue.

It was arguably the best scene of his acting career.

But no matter what Bai Xiaoyang said, no one believed him.

Mother Gu sighed in disappointment, while Father Gu, enraged, raised his hand and slapped Bai Xiaoyang hard across the face!

Amidst the chaos, Gu Minglun emerged from behind his adoptive parents, a triumphant smile on his face. The beauty mark at the corner of his left eye still glistened with a hint of moisture, yet his smile radiated smugness, arrogance, and undeniable beauty—the smile of a victor.

So full of himself.

To those who loathed him, it was unbearably glaring.

“Fucking bastard.”

The curse, though not loud, rang out clearly across the set. It came from a female assistant standing near Luo Yi.

The moment the curse echoed, the entire set seemed to freeze. Even the hum of the filming equipment fell silent.