I Really Like the Male Supporting Character (Quick Transmigration) - Chapter 58
Recently, Ah Luo had been making time to play the game every evening. In the past, she’d played to improve her skills so that she could get close to Shen Xi using them. However, since the two had become closer in real life, she now played games purely for entertainment.
Although she was still extremely bad at it, she still managed to get some enjoyment out of playing. A large part of why she could do that was due to her in-game master, the random ID player.
The random ID player was so good at playing the game that, as long as Ah Luo was playing with them, she could taste the sweet delight of victory without even doing anything,
Ah Luo logged into the game today, as per usual. As expected, within a minute of her coming online, the random ID player also came online. Sometimes Ah Luo found it uncanny—he always seemed to log in right when she did, as if the two of them shared some kind of telepathic link.
The random ID player: [Disciple, come on, I’ll take you to pick stars.]
As usual, the random ID player sent her a team invite.
But this time, Ah Luo didn’t accept. Instead, she typed a line of text, [I won’t be playing this game anymore.]
The random ID player: [What happened? Why not? Didn’t you want to play with Lingshen?]
Ah Luo sent over a smiling emoji and said, [Well, it’s like this. I suddenly realised I don’t like him anymore, so I don’t want to play games with him either.]
The random ID player: [???]
The truth was, that was just an excuse. She simply felt that now that she and Shen Xi were officially together, the game no longer held the same importance. Even if she didn’t know how to play, Shen Xi wouldn’t mind. What mattered more was that she felt the random ID player treated her a little too specially. Though they were complete strangers in real life, they always looked after her in the game, following her wishes and indulging her in everything, without complaint.
Ah Luo had once read a comment about The Hero Returns, the game they played. It said that many of its players were young and didn’t yet understand romantic feelings. The prolonged companionship one experienced online could easily lead to the illusion of love.
In her opinion, the random ID player seemed to be heading in that direction. Even if she only treated the game as a way to pass time, she was worried they might take it seriously. If a kid got hurt because of her, it wouldn’t be right.
After she sent that message, the other side didn’t reply for a long time. She waited two more minutes without hearing anything and was about to log off.
Just as she thought that, someone knocked on the hotel room door.
So late at night—could it be the young man staying across the hall again?
Ah Luo walked to the door and peeked through the peephole. Sure enough, it was Shen Xi standing outside. He had his head lowered, as if deep in thought, and his expression looked a little downcast.
She opened the door, and before she could say anything, the young man suddenly lifted his head. His big, puppy-like eyes were glistening, his face looked like he was about to cry, and he stared at her with a pitiful expression.
“Sister, why don’t you like me anymore? What did I do wrong? Please tell me. Don’t stop liking me, okay?”
As he said this, he hesitantly reached out and tugged at the hem of Ah Luo’s shirt. His eyes were full of confusion and anxious vulnerability.
Ah Luo was completely baffled. Her mind drew a blank, and she said, “When did I say I didn’t like you? Lele, don’t overthink things. What’s going on?”
Shen Xi examined her carefully. Seeing that her expression was the same as always, and that her gaze remained as gentle and tolerant as ever, he finally calmed down a little.
He held up his phone. The screen clearly showed the message Ah Luo had just sent in-game. Shen Xi pursed his lips and said, “Then why did you say this?”
Ah Luo stared, dumbfounded, first at the phone, then at the young man. After a long pause, she finally found her voice.
“The person who’s been playing with me in the game all along… was you?”
Shen Xi nodded matter-of-factly, completely unaware of the gravity of what he’d just admitted to.
“Yeah.”
Ah Luo fell silent for a long time, then asked, “So that means… you’ve known all along that I liked you?”
Shen Xi touched the bridge of his nose, a little sheepishly, and smiled. His small tiger tooth peeked out adorably.
“Yeah. I’ve been waiting for you to confess…”
Ah Luo: ‘…’
She paused for a beat, then gently said his name.
“Lele.”
Realising that the thing in the game might’ve been a misunderstanding, and that she was still as kind to him as always, Shen Xi quickly and obediently replied, “What is it, Sister?”
Ah Luo smiled. “For the next week, don’t even think about coming into my room.”
Shen Xi blinked at her, dazed. His smile froze on his face like a mask, and the next moment, his face crumpled.
“Sister, whyyy!?”
Her only response was the bang of the door shutting in his face—and her low, cold chuckle from behind it.
That night, a post appeared on an anonymous forum titled.
[What do I do if my girlfriend’s angry?]
The content of the post described the incident in detail. The poster admitted he didn’t understand what he’d done wrong and asked netizens to help him figure it out.
[First reply: Mate, your emotional intelligence is running on empty. First relationship, right?]
[OP: Yeah. She’s my first love.]
[Second reply: Can’t you tell? It’s obvious your girlfriend’s angry because you lied to her.]
[OP: I thought it would be a surprise?]
[Third reply: Wow, even someone with EQ this low has a girlfriend?]
[OP: Not only do I have one—she’s absolutely crazy about me :)]
[Fourth reply: I see what this is. OP’s just here to show off. Don’t feed the troll!]
Although his plan had failed before it even began, Shen Xi still figured out why Xin Luo was angry, and that eased his mind. As far as he was concerned, so long as she didn’t dislike him, everything else was manageable.
Ah Luo meant what she said—she’d told him one week, and it was indeed a full week before Shen Xi was allowed into her room again. The young man had clearly taken it to heart too; after the first two days of mischief, he stopped acting out and returned to his obedient, puppy-like self.
From the third day onwards, Shen Xi began filming his scenes. His role wasn’t large—the director had originally scheduled it for later—but since Shen Xi had arrived early, the director figured they might as well get it done and save him the trouble of waiting around.
Had Shen Xi known the director’s reasoning, he might’ve asked him to delay instead. After all, Shen Xi had joined the production mainly for Ah Luo; the acting was just a bonus. Naturally, the longer he could stay, the better.
But since the director had already arranged the shoot, there was no backing out of it.
In the drama, Nan Zhi was a human boy picked up at random by the female lead, Liu Su, by the roadside. He was bright, cheerful, and willingly offered to protect Liu Su, who had lost her powers after descending to the mortal realm. He became her guardian and ultimately died saving her.
Nan Zhi was a simple and pure soul, utterly loyal to Liu Su. Though he harboured secret feelings for her, he felt too inferior to confess them. Only at the moment of his death did he finally earn a look of compassion from Liu Su.
Shen Xi fit the character perfectly. Dressed in period costume with a wig, he looked just like a genuine youth from ancient times. He was handsome, sunny, and full of vitality.
His scenes were few and mostly shared with Ah Luo, so the two had to act together.
Though it was his first time filming, Shen Xi picked it up quickly. Nan Zhi wasn’t a hard character for him to portray—it was 80% natural personality with just 20% technique. The only tricky bit for him was camera blocking, but once Ah Luo explained it to him, he grasped it in no time. As for the lines, with his high IQ, it posed no challenge whatsoever to him.
What was truly difficult, originally, was conveying Nan Zhi’s feelings for Liu Su. His love was silent—he never expressed it aloud—but it had to be so palpable that audiences could see that fierce, devoted love at a glance.
As the director put it, “Your eyes must tell the story. You need that look of yearning.”
Ironically, the hardest part ended up being the easiest. The moment Xin Luo stood in place, Shen Xi’s eyes lit up, and the emotion instantly surfaced. It was like the characters Liu Su and Nan Zhi had stepped straight off the page.
“Yes! That’s the look! Hold it—perfect, perfect!” the director shouted with delight.
The hardest part of acting was conveying emotion. If someone’s eyes could act, they could bring the character to life.
The director was thrilled. He felt like a talent scout discovering a rare gem. Shen Xi’s natural ability was the most impressive he’d seen in years.
So, after the day’s filming wrapped, he pulled Shen Xi aside and said, “Shen Xi, you were fantastic. With your talent, have you ever thought about a future in showbiz?”
Shen Xi looked puzzled. “Director, what made you think I’m talented at acting?”
The director replied, “Your eyes—they told the story. Even better than He Yu.”
He Yu was the male lead of the drama, a competent actor whose performance, while polished, was mostly surface-level technique. Shen Xi, though still a little raw, brought real emotional depth.
Hearing such praise, Shen Xi frowned instead and said, “Director, I think you’re mistaken. It’s not that I’m good at acting—I was showing genuine feelings.”
The director blinked, caught off guard. “Genuine feelings?”
Shen Xi smiled faintly. He spoke with offhand ease as he said, “I like Sister Xin Luo. For me to play someone who’s in love with her—that’s just honest emotion, isn’t it?”
He dropped that bomb and strolled back to Ah Luo, leaving the director frozen on the spot.
Ah Luo asked casually, “What did the director want?”
“He said I acted better than He Yu.” Shen Xi’s eyes curved like a crescent moon as he leaned toward his girlfriend, clearly fishing for praise.
Ah Luo reached out and poked his forehead. “Why are you still bringing up He Yu? I told you, we’re not close.”
He Yu was the male lead of the drama and had many scenes with Ah Luo, including two kiss scenes. This had made Shen Xi quite jealous. He didn’t interfere with her work or forbid her from acting, but he did frequently compare himself to He Yu—sometimes subtly, sometimes not—leaving Ah Luo both amused and exasperated.
“I didn’t lie. You just don’t believe me,” Shen Xi said, sulky.
Ah Luo tousled his hair like petting a large dog. “I believe you! Our Lele has the best acting skills!”
The two continued their playful bickering, oblivious to the looks they were receiving.
Shen Xi had been on set for several days by now, and throughout that time, the chatter surrounding them had never stopped. Quite a few people had already guessed that he and Xin Luo were really together.
There was something unmistakable about the atmosphere between a couple. Even without confirmation, anyone with eyes could see it.
Their interactions on variety shows could be explained away as performance. However, the fact that they were off-camera and still behaving exactly the same confirmed everyone’s suspicions: their fake romance had turned real.