What to Do When Pretending to Be an Alpha Gets Exhausting [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 3

When Ye Xingyuan returned home and opened the door, he was immediately met with a wall of Su Luoqing’s posters, merchandise, and various endorsement products.

Some items were still in their boxes. Because Su Luoqing’s face was printed on them, they were neatly stacked in the most visible spot in the living room.

Looking at it gave Ye Xingyuan a headache.

He walked inside and began tearing down the posters on the wall, then cleaned up the living room and bedroom.

The room was filled with photos of him and Su Luoqing.

Some were stills from dramas, others were from events they attended together. In all of them, everyone else had been edited out by the original owner—leaving only the two of them.

There was even a wedding photo edited at the bedside.

This obsessive, creepy behavior made it no surprise that even the always-gentle, forgiving Su Luoqing had publicly lashed out at him on Weibo.

Suddenly, Ye Xingyuan thought of something and opened his phone.

As expected—his wallpaper, lock screen, boot screen, and photo album were all filled with Su Luoqing’s pictures. Even the notes app contained Su Luoqing’s schedule.

He walked to the wardrobe and opened the top cabinet.

Inside were a variety of disturbing items.

Used tissues, hotel slippers, disposable toothbrushes, and even underwear…

It didn’t take much imagination to know they all belonged to Su Luoqing.

Ye Xingyuan put on gloves and began cleaning while holding his nose.

Inside, there was even a used coffee cup—the residue at the bottom had already grown green mold.

When he picked it up, he nearly gagged.

He cleaned until midnight before finally removing all traces of Su Luoqing.

He threw away torn posters and all used items in black garbage bags. Endorsement goods that were still usable were kept, as well as collectibles.

As for the “wedding photo,” which couldn’t be kept or thrown away easily, he shoved it into the storage room.

Late at night.

After taking a shower, Ye Xingyuan was exhausted and didn’t want to move.

But he was starving.

When he sat down, he felt a dull stomach pain.

He pressed his abdomen and drank some warm water, which slightly eased the pain.

The original owner neglected his body completely—smoking, drinking, staying up all night, eating junk food whenever he wanted, skipping meals whenever he had no work. Over time, his stomach developed problems.

Ye Xingyuan found some noodles in the fridge and cooked himself a bowl of plain noodle soup.

After eating, he found stomach medicine in the bedside cabinet and finally fell asleep when the sky was turning pale.

He slept from sunrise to sunset.

Then Zhao Lu called.

Ye Xingyuan yawned deeply, ran a hand through his hair, revealing a clean, handsome forehead.

“Boss Lu.”

His voice was thick with sleepiness.

“You have two options,” Zhao Lu said.

“Huh? Options?”

Instantly alert, Ye Xingyuan sat up, put on slippers, and walked to the living room.

“What options?”

“One is a movie—supporting role. Only two lines of dialogue, but about three minutes of action scenes. The other is a historical drama. The role is not likable, no ranking credit, but you’ll have scenes with the lead—and one bed scene with partial nudity.”

Zhao Lu almost choked saying the last part.

Ye Xingyuan thought for a moment. He already had a preference but still asked:

“Boss Lu, which one do you recommend?”

To his surprise, she gave a serious answer:

“The historical drama. The lead is Pei Yanchen. His dramas are all hits in recent years. Getting in is your luck.”

“Then I’ll take your advice.”

Her judgment matched his own.

Playing a villain might attract hate, but acting opposite the lead meant visibility. Even if people hated him, he could still gain attention.

And he was confident in his acting.

As long as he got the chance to perform, he could slowly change how audiences saw him.

He even deliberately acted obedient on the phone to leave a good impression.

Zhao Lu sounded pleased:

“I worked hard to get you this opportunity. The rest depends on you.”

“Got it. Thank you, Boss Lu.”

“Also—don’t offend Pei Yanchen. Offending others might still be salvageable, but if the Pei family wants to block you, you’re done in this industry.”

Basically: you’re finished.

Ye Xingyuan rubbed a pillow, face slightly red:

“I understand. I’ll be careful.”

After hanging up, he stood up to wash up.

Then suddenly ran back, bent over the sofa, grabbed his phone again, opened an online shopping app, and searched:

Pei Yanchen swimwear photoshoot.

He immediately placed an order.

Payment completed in one go.

Then he tossed the phone aside and went to wash up, ears red.

In this drama, he was playing a shameless, ungrateful “white lotus” servant.

Saved from traffickers by a princess, he was brought into the palace and treated kindly, even taught basic Omega knowledge.

But he repaid kindness with betrayal—trying to climb into the prince’s bed during heat season in order to stay in luxury.

The servant’s pheromones were similar to the princess’s. The prince had been drunk that night and stayed in the study after arguing with the princess, giving the servant an opportunity.

Of course, the scheme failed. The princess caught him, slapped him, whipped him, and had him thrown out.

The prince originally wanted to kill him, but the princess stopped him out of mercy, and he was thrown out of the city instead.

The prince and princess later reconciled.

“This servant is so annoying. The princess is too kind. He should’ve been killed or sent back to the brothel,” Xiaopang complained while reading the script.

Ye Xingyuan rolled the script and tapped his head.

“Are you insulting me?”

Xiaopang finally realized, rubbing his head:

“Brother Xing, are you really going to act this role? You’ll definitely get hated online.”

“So what? Am I not already hated enough?”

Xiaopang nodded:

“Fair point.”

Ye Xingyuan leaned back, eyes closed, strangely looking forward to it.

Acting a bed scene with Pei Yanchen meant he could openly… take liberties with him.

Eight-pack abs… firm or soft? That “alpha waist” rumored to be able to fight for seven days straight…

Ahem.

The book even said Pei Yanchen’s waist was his sensitive point.

If he stimulated it a little during filming, would he see a different expression on that always-cold face?

Damn. He was actually looking forward to it.

“How long until we reach the set?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

Xiaopang suddenly noticed his face.

“Brother Xing, why is your face so red? Do you have a fever?”

He reached out to check, but Ye Xingyuan slapped his hand away.

“No. Is the AC on?”

“It is.”

“Turn it colder.”

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived.

This drama had already been filming for over a month before he joined. He would only shoot a few scenes and leave after a few days.

Originally, the role belonged to another young actor, but he was removed due to misconduct and replaced by Ye Xingyuan.

It wasn’t unusual for Alphas to play Omega roles.

Society had advanced—pheromones could be controlled, and there were apps to track heat cycles. Suppressants, blockers, and patches were widely used.

Omegas were no longer restricted and could freely pursue careers.

Ye Xingyuan knew this opportunity was rare. He had memorized the script thoroughly.

He needed to use this role to break into the industry again and shift public perception—from “hated” to “controversial but popular.”

Zhao Lu was waiting at the studio entrance.

She kept checking her watch until he arrived.

When she saw him, she was surprised and pinched his face.

“You’ve been up to what lately? You actually look better than before.”

“I’ve been studying the script and practicing acting,” he replied vaguely.

Zhao Lu was satisfied.

“That’s more like it.”

They walked in.

On the way, Zhao Lu briefed him:

“Today you’ll probably film scenes with Pei Yanchen first. There’s a bed scene, but it’ll be toned down since it airs on TV. Just don’t offend him.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve prepared well.”

“Good.”

She went to speak with the director.

They were ignored immediately.

No one greeted them. Assistants moved back and forth as if they didn’t exist.

Once a top-tier star, Ye Xingyuan now stood among extras.

Nearby, someone suddenly shouted:

“You idiot, you pulled my hair!”

A commotion broke out.

A makeup artist was frantically apologizing to a seated actor:

“I’m sorry, Brother Chu, I didn’t mean to—”

“Sorry? You think that fixes it? Do you know how expensive my hair is?”

The actor, Ji Chuxi, snatched a milk tea from his assistant and splashed it at the makeup artist.

“Get lost. Don’t ever appear in front of me again.”

The makeup artist ran away crying.

And finally—

Ye Xingyuan saw the face of the person speaking those cliché drama lines.

Familiar.

Very familiar.