HOYSE CHAPTER 10

Chapter 10 – This Voice Sounds Like the Real Deal

The moment Rong Jing stepped into the small auditorium, the sheer heat of the crowd stunned him.

On the way over the campus had looked normal enough. A few student union kids selling things at charity booths, some stragglers hustling to class. He had expected a standard talk. Then the heavy curtain parted and it was just people. Wall to wall, a sea of heads to the horizon, with only the tiniest island labeled “Ji Leping and me” bobbing in the swell.

This was the Film Academy, the place legends said was paved with celebrities. Students and teachers here were usually jaded about stars. Yet the hall was packed to breathing-room only, and he could even spot a few fanlights with GU XI glowing from the front rows, waved by boys and girls of all six genders.

Rong Jing got a very direct refresher on Gu Xi’s pull, and on the other guest’s too. Three years without a single project, then bursting back to the top in no time. If this were a movie, that was what you called protagonist armor, kissed by the gods.

How were they supposed to squeeze through all this and reach the front?

“Come on, follow me,” said Ji Leping, and when Rong Jing lingered with that “maybe I should bail” look, he added, “real talk, how did someone this zen get into Acting? You’re more Literature Department coded.”

In his head, anyone who had fought through hundreds of thousands of candidates to get into the program had to be a hot-blooded Alpha. Somehow a different creature had slipped in.

“I’m better than you think,” Rong Jing said matter-of-factly. Who said a salted-fish type couldn’t enter showbiz?

“No need to be humble,” Ji Leping shot back. “There are very few people on campus who haven’t seen your performance.”

Right. That onstage meltdown. He kept forgetting he wasn’t the original anymore.

Ji Leping had never seen an Alpha so immune to Omegas. Had Qi Ying scrambled his brains that badly? Qi Ying’s charm couldn’t possibly be that strong. And put Qi Ying next to Gu Xi for comparison… no, not the same plane, the gap was a canyon.

“You must really love Qi Ying,” he muttered. “Blind enough to lose judgment.”

“I have nothing to do with him,” Rong Jing said, mystified why everything kept circling back to the ex. Break up or not, the original owner’s history was stamped deep in everyone’s mind. Sometimes Rong Jing wanted to drag him up by the collar and lecture him: you do not pick a spouse by face alone. Someone like me would never pick by face.

“Think about it. With this many people, if Gu Xi happens to notice you and makes you the male lead in his new drama, wouldn’t the squeeze be worth it?” Ji Leping tossed out bait to motivate his newly-friendly salted fish.

“…” Why would you think I’d believe that.

They apologized their way through, heading for the first few rows and drawing glances by default because they were late. The stage was empty of guests for now. Lighting was run by the Cinematography and Lighting students, precise and beautiful. The host stood at center with a mic, running through both stars’ past work while clips rolled on the LED behind her.

Near the third row, familiar faces popped up. Acting Department alumni who had clearly rushed back just for this and had come early to get seats. Ji Leping had said Gu Xi’s next film was holding open calls. This was the place to be seen.

Rong Jing knew ecosystems like this. You swam upstream toward every possible chance, and maybe you would be picked.

After a round of greetings, Ji Leping asked, “Why so many people?” It was absurd. You couldn’t pack more in with a crowbar. And in the middle of class hours too.

A girl pointed at the very first row. “Today they’re filming A Day in a Star’s Life with Gu Xi. You know…”

From their third row vantage he saw several camera operators. There would be shoulder cams shadowing Gu Xi as well.

“No wonder. Only a hot variety show can book him,” Ji Leping said. Compared to class, exposure like this was gold.

Only then did a few girls notice the way Rong Jing was deliberately shrinking his presence behind Ji Leping. “Oh. You came too,” one said, awkward.

“I heard you and Qi Ying broke up. True?”

“Qi Ying already signed a project. On the forum they said you sent over a hundred resumes and no crew took you?”

“No way. That tragic?” The girl winced, realizing she had gone too far, and clapped a hand over her mouth.

It was true. He did not argue.

The original had been persistent; he had done it. Not a hundred, but over three hundred. He’d worked hard to conquer his camera phobia. Years later the progress was tiny, so he’d tried to ease in as an extra or cannon fodder. But no crew wanted to give him that chance. Extras needed to vanish into the background. His face drew the eye. Add the reputation and the phobia that never fully left, and in a market flooded with actors… after a few tries, no one wanted to waste time.

Classmates offered everything from sympathy to disdain to annoyance, but most simply pretended he wasn’t there. He did not fit.

The guy holding seats for Ji Leping murmured, “Why’d you bring him?”

Ji Leping had been a detached onlooker like everyone else, but after teaming up with Rong Jing to catch a groper and spending time with him, he’d decided Rong Jing was actually decent. He bristled. “Why not? How many years ago was that? What unforgivable sin did he commit? Enough already.”

He raised his voice on purpose. A few nearby fell quiet.

Rong Jing often filtered the world out, but that didn’t mean he missed how unwelcome he was. If that was the case, there was no point forcing it. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Qi Ying. Which was rich, considering Qi Ying had never taken the initiative to call while they were together.

It worked as an excuse. “A lot of people are standing,” he told Ji Leping. “I should give this seat to someone who needs it.”

“Shh, Gu Xi is here. If you came, you stay.” Ji Leping pushed him back down.

The host finished her intro. Gu Xi walked out. Rong Jing looked up despite himself and blanked for a second.

He was one of those people whose mere presence made you believe in miracles. He crossed gender lines simply by existing. Even with the pickiest eye, Rong Jing could not find a flaw.

He shook it off quickly. The hall had snapped to silence and then thundered into applause. Leaving now would be rude.

He watched closely for a while and felt a little defeated. Seeing Gu Xi live changed nothing. There was still no tug of familiarity.

Hm? Why did it feel like he looked at me?

Their gazes brushed in midair, then flicked away as if shocked. The jolt fizzed out to fingers and toes.

When Rong Jing looked again, Gu Xi was already facing front, waving at a cluster of fanlights and whisking up a fresh wave of cheers.

Right. He’d imagined it.

He listened properly for a stretch and found Gu Xi spoke with substance about on-set anecdotes and thoughts on graduation.

Did he glance at me again? It had been brief, but there had been a strand of contact there.

He looked around. The hall was packed with beautiful faces, all six genders shoulder to shoulder, AO dominating as usual. If Gu Xi had casting say on the next film, then this was prime show-your-face time for everyone.

One of the three great illusions: he is looking at me.

Overthinking is a disease. Get it treated.

There was nothing special about him. In a hall this full, he would not catch Gu Xi’s eye.

He settled back down.

As Gu Xi’s talk wound toward the end, it shifted to audience questions. Rong Jing checked his phone, he had missed two calls from Qi Ying. Ha. Growth. The original’s dream Omega had been ignored multiple times today. Should he call back? No. They had broken up. Better to cut the tangles clean.

The first question was about Lota’s 365 Days, which had only recently left theaters. Rong Jing perked up.

“To be honest,” a girl said, “I didn’t expect much when I bought a ticket. I just wanted to support you at the box office.”

She sneaked a look at Gu Xi, worried bluntness would offend, and blushed when she met a gentle smile.

Everyone knew he’d debuted as a singer-dancer. Acting had been a question mark. Being passable would have been a pleasant surprise. She was clearly a fan, and her candor drew nods.

“But you surprised me so much. I left the theater crying and couldn’t shake it for days. I watched the behind-the-scenes and read about the shoot. A lot of those injuries were real, not makeup or post. You filmed in Harbin at minus thirty degrees. Your legs were purple. Later there were reports that both feet were badly frostbitten and you were hospitalized. What kept you going? Weren’t you afraid you might never act again?”

Not everyone looks into what it takes to make a movie. The room learned what it had cost him.

“Afterward, of course I was scared. You didn’t see me in the hospital, staring at my legs hung up and thinking maybe Director Liu had lured me in to fatten me up and then butcher me,” Gu Xi joked. He knew how to turn a room. When the laughter eased, his face steadied. “But while shooting, you don’t think. There’s a scene where I drag my little sister through the snow. Our prop master kept messing up, the bamboo basket slipped off the wheels again and again. The kid’s lips were blue and she never complained once. If a child can hold up like that, what right do I have to whine? All you can think is, finish the take as soon as possible.”

It was only a few lines, yet you could feel the resolve. Around them, several Alphas ramped up a percentage point.

Gu Xi was born with cool pride, and when he got serious there was a sharp brilliance that stoked an Alpha’s base urge to conquer.

Rong Jing heard what he wanted, then slid back into standby.

Next to him, Ji Leping finally felt his own nerves settle and shot his hand up. Gu Xi’s gaze flicked and he nodded to him.

Maybe because the last question had been heavy, Ji Leping asked what most of the room wanted to know. “I-if we want to work with you, would you reject student actors?”

“Of course not. The next film will have open auditions. I hope you all participate.” Gu Xi blinked and a thousand points of light flashed in his eyes. He was like walking pheromone without a single leak. Even Rong Jing found his gaze drawn to that glow before drifting off again.

That one line ignited the hall. His meaning was clear. Anyone had a shot. A seasoned star who knew how to control tempo.

“Next,” Gu Xi said, smiling as he pointed.

This time it was a tall, broad Alpha, not exactly friendly. “Gu Xi, do you fart?”

The hall erupted. Rude, yes, but some were honestly curious if someone so ethereal had human needs.

Gu Xi smiled and made a mock holding-it-in face. “When there are people around, I hold it.”

Which of course made everyone imagine that when there were no people, he let the self free. Such a straight arrow. Nothing like the gaudy, fake types outside.

He handled petty malice well, softening it with frank humor. He glanced toward Xun Jiarui and got a smug smile in return.

His fingers curled subtly.

“Alright, last one.” He scanned the waving hands and pointed. “Yes. You in the black T-shirt in the front row.”

Rong Jing was in idle mode. Ji Leping jabbed him and he realized the focus of the entire room had landed squarely on him.

He looked left, right, up, down. Huh? Me? I didn’t raise my hand.

Was it a mistake, or had his body betrayed his will? And maybe it was his imagination, but there was a thread of concentration in Gu Xi’s gaze.

Looking at Gu Xi’s too-pale face under the lights, Rong Jing blurted, “Are you hungry?”

He was still catching up after being called on.

Gu Xi blinked. “?”

“I mean, do you want to grab breakfast first?” Rong Jing said.

He had no burning question. The time was nearly up anyway, and if Gu Xi wasn’t well, why force it?

When Gu Xi had first entered, Rong Jing had noticed him bend slightly and straighten, more than once. During the talk he had pressed a hand to his stomach a few times, hidden by the podium. Either he had skipped breakfast or his stomach hurt. Actors’ hours were upside down half the time. Rong Jing picked one at random.

For a heartbeat the always-elegant Gu Xi froze.

He almost looked… startled. His expression control was usually flawless.

He recovered quickly.

His voice… Yes. This voice sounded like the real deal. And not just because he found Xun Jiarui a bit sleazy.

Gu Xi did not reply. The pause stretched. The school staff exchanged looks. He did look a little faint, like he might pass out from low blood sugar. They signaled to Xun Jiarui to step in. Xun had already come onstage, took the mic, and smiled toward Rong Jing. “Are you asking Gu Xi out to breakfast? He hasn’t even agreed to mine yet. You might have to get in line.”

Laughter warmed the air again as Gu Xi slipped backstage.

He did not rest. Staff asked if he had skipped breakfast and if they should fetch something. The show’s host apologized repeatedly. They had assumed he would have eaten by now.

Gu Xi smiled and said he usually skipped breakfast anyway, then suggested the school cafeteria. He hadn’t eaten there in ages and missed it.

Food arrived quickly. He was past hungry and a little hollowed out, yet he ate his egg pancake slowly. He glanced at the leather bracelet photo on his phone.

You probably don’t want me to find you. But the deeper you hide, the more I want to dig. I need to see what species you are.

Out front, the Q&A resumed. Another student stood and asked something random. It might have passed as a small hiccup, except Xun Jiarui added, “For the remaining questions, please ask about professional topics. It’s for your future.”

His mood had soured the moment Rong Jing spoke. He wasn’t the only one who’d noticed how similar their voices were. He had taken on massive risk for surgery, and the result sounded like a student from the Film Academy. Worse, the other boy’s voice had a thicker, warmer, more natural richness. The lab promised the most natural, most beautiful result, but built versus born was still a chasm.

That little barb lit the fuse among those who hadn’t been called. Murmurs pricked at Rong Jing’s ears.

“His voice is just like Senior Xun’s. Is he copying him?”

“He didn’t want to ask anything. Why raise his hand?”

“Just stirring the pot?”

“Trying to show off in front of Gu Xi and got ignored.”

“As if Gu Xi would look twice at trash like that.” That one from one of Qi Ying’s admirers.

Finished with his pancake, Gu Xi pressed a hand to a belly no longer cramping and returned to the floor. The room spiked again at his reappearance.

He waved to the students and glanced toward Rong Jing. The guy was utterly unbothered, unaware even of Gu Xi’s presence. Around him, people occasionally threw him daggered looks. Gu Xi motioned a staffer over and whispered.

The staffer walked to the third row and said near them, “Gu Xi asked me to tell you he did forget breakfast. Thank you.”

Only when the messenger reached his side did Rong Jing lift his head. Across the space, Gu Xi inclined his chin in acknowledgement.

“How did you know?” Ji Leping whispered.

“I guessed,” Rong Jing said.

The eavesdroppers around them: “…”

They wanted to “guess” too if guessing drew Gu Xi’s notice. Shameless, scheming boy.

Ji Leping looked at the Alphas who’d mocked Rong Jing earlier and cackled. “Look at their faces. That is one fine slap.”

Gu Xi looked at Xun Jiarui, then toward Rong Jing again, only to discover, with a touch of despair, that both were wearing black T-shirts today. The styles were ninety-percent alike.

Were you trying to kill me?

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