Chapter 23 – The Magical Immortal Wei Lai
by Salted FishWei Lai swung his car keys as he stepped out, laughing shamelessly without a shred of guilt. He said to the camera, “He must be furious. I’m not going to comfort him—if anyone’s doing the comforting, it’ll have to be him coming to me.”
Wei Lai first went to a pharmacy and pretended to buy some stomach-stimulating medicine, then called Chu Yin.
Chu Yin answered instantly, furious: “Madam Wei, what do you want?!”
Wei Lai chuckled. “Oh ho! Full of energy, I see. Did you manage to take a dump?”
Chu Yin: “…”
Chu Yin secretly suspected Wei Lai was a mole sent by Yao Chaowu to ruin his cool guy image. His male god reputation had suffered immense damage.
A cool guy would sneakily eat dried fish when he was hungry to keep his image—how could he possibly be shown constipated while taking a shit?!
Wei Lai: “Hello? Why aren’t you saying anything?”
Chu Yin: “…You damn mole.”
Chu Yin decisively hung up. Wei Lai thought for a moment and sent a WeChat message: “?”
After sending it, a bright red exclamation mark appeared next to the message—eye-searingly glaring.
Wei Lai froze for a second before realizing he’d been blacklisted by Chu Yin again!
Wei Lai was slick in handling interpersonal relationships and rarely ever had serious fallouts with anyone. This was only the second time he’d been blacklisted, and by the same person at that. Staring at the blooming chrysanthemum that served as Chu Yin’s profile picture, he found the whole thing strangely novel.
Tsk tsk tsk, what an idol’s temper!
Wei Lai put on his sunglasses, rolled his eyes slightly, and stepped on the gas. A battle of who would cave first had officially begun.
Though Wei Lai was annoyed, he wouldn’t let emotions interfere with work. After delaying for days, it was time to get back to pimping.
He first drove to a hot pot restaurant and, over the course of the meal, arranged his work schedule for the next week. Wei Lai trusted his team implicitly—solve problems, delegate tasks, and achieve maximum efficiency.
After finishing his meal, Wei Lai wiped his mouth and asked, “By the way, darling… that thing… did you get it?”
The assistant nodded and slid a small black box over to Wei Lai, whispering in a tone befitting a spy handoff: “All arranged.”
Wei Lai opened the box, took a quick glance, then shut it immediately, giving the assistant an approving look.
Off-camera, the production team murmured among themselves:
“What was that? Did we not catch it on film?”
“Probably something private. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have deliberately avoided showing it.”
Someone complained, “This footage is so scattered. Do they even have any awareness of variety show filming? How are we supposed to edit this?”
“Don’t rush,” the director shook his head. “This Wei Lai guy… he’s interesting.”
“?” What’s with that “you’ve successfully caught my attention” expression on this man’s face?
The director said slowly, “Out of the three guest pairs, let’s talk about Yao Chaowu first. His pair is designed as a clash between a positive-energy, red-hot idol and a cold-faced, controversial manager—the conflict lies in their careers. As for Qian Tianyi’s pair, well… how to put it? Lazy-go-lucky Qian Tianyi and gentle otaku Long Dongqiang—a pair of washed-up idols who, despite not being popular, still cling to their principles. It’s got its charm. The themes of popularity and obscurity are already taken by Yao Chaowu and Qian Tianyi. So how can Wei Lai make sure their pair stands out to the audience at first glance?”
After a long silence, someone hesitantly suggested, “Selling BL?”
The director: “…It’s not that simple. Think harder. That said, at first glance, the ‘ChuLai’ CP seems like a cracked ship, but the more you think about it, the more it kinda works.”
Everyone: “…We never knew you were this kind of director.”
The scene cut to Chu Yin’s home. After blacklisting Wei Lai on WeChat, he kept holding his phone, picking it up quickly whenever a call or message notification sounded—only to put it back down in disappointment when it wasn’t Wei Lai.
At first, he stayed in his room to sleep, but eventually, he dragged his blanket to the sofa, occasionally glancing out the window. But Wei Lai never showed up. In a fit of anger, he slapped Wei Lai’s thermos off the coffee table.
Unaware that Chu Yin had started wrecking his home in his absence, Wei Lai sat peacefully in his car, making calls.
Wei Lai had read the script. My Idol at Home had six episodes in total, divided into a work arc and a vacation arc. The first three episodes were filmed individually for each guest, while the latter three were the vacation arc—which meant there was a high chance Chu Yin would run into Chen Meixian, and Wei Lai would have to face Yao Chaowu.
It was shaping up to be an absolute bloodbath.
Wei Lai planned to first cozy up to Qian Tianyi’s manager to arrange a crossover in the second episode. Though it might look like factionalism, having someone to mediate if things got ugly later wouldn’t be a bad idea.
Qian Tianyi’s manager was named Long Dongqiang. When Wei Lai called him, Long Dongqiang sounded a little embarrassed, saying he was at a salon getting his hair dyed.
Long Dongqiang: “Sorry, that ancestor of mine is at home gaming. I finally got some time to get my hair done. It’ll take a while—maybe another day?”
Wei Lai, too, had only managed to get out and hustle because he’d kicked the crybaby aside while he was throwing a tantrum. He immediately felt a sense of camaraderie and asked, “Mind if I join you?”
Long Dongqiang thought for a moment. “I’m at Zero.”
Wei Lai: “Oh~ I know the place. I’ll be right there.”
Zero was legendary in the industry. Instead of being in a commercial district, it was located opposite a luxury villa area—a three-story Western-style house with a garden. The first floor was for styling, the second for haircuts, and the third was off-limits to non-members. The sign at the entrance didn’t even have flashy lights, exuding an air of “don’t come if you can’t afford it.” The staff were all top-tier stylists—legendary Tonys1Tony is a popular Chinese internet slang term and meme used to refer to a male hairstylist. The name became a generic stereotype for hairdressers who adopt common English names to appear fashionable and international.. Rumor had it the owner was named Wei Bulai2His name means “Wei doesn’t come”, and true to his name, he hadn’t shown his face since the salon opened.
Thus, when business director Yan Yunshui saw Wei Lai, he gasped in surprise and couldn’t help but applaud.
Wei Lai took off his sunglasses and smiled, pressing a hand to his chest. “Yun Yun, keep it low-key. What’s with the fuss~?”
Yan Yunshui had lost his iron rice bowl teaching job3The job that made him a steady living. after being reported by the parents for being gay. Switching careers to beauty and hairstyling, he’d flourished—his natural talent helping him double the salon’s quarterly revenue.
Yan Yunshui leaned in coquettishly. “Are you here to see me? Why didn’t you bring a gift?”
Wei Lai: “Next time. I’m here on business. Where’s Long Dongqiang?”
Despite his imposing name, Long Dongqiang was chubby—though in a good-looking way. He was tall, with delicate features and a fair face. His plump figure jiggled like jelly, making him adorably pudgy at first glance.
Wei Lai sat in the chair next to him. “Hello, I’m Wei Lai.”
Their reflections appeared side by side in the mirrors. The two exchanged glances through the glass, both finding the other agreeable, and exchanged smiles that were professional yet warm.
Noticing Long Dongqiang was bleaching his hair, Wei Lai asked, “What color are you going for?”
Long Dongqiang: “Gray-white.”
Wei Lai nodded. “Gray-white will suit you.”
Originally, Wei Lai had come to establish connections, but sitting in the plush swivel chair, breathing in the salon’s signature fragrance, he felt an itch in his heart.
Long Dongqiang had been waiting for Wei Lai to discuss business, but instead, Wei Lai said seriously, “Since we’re here,” and pointed at the color chart. “I’ll take this color.”
Yan Yunshui happened to come over with drinks and giggled. “BoBo, hurry up and get that Balala Fairy Purple on our Lai Lai!”
While dyeing his hair and getting a foot massage, Wei Lai let out a long, contented sigh. Yan Yunshui leaned against the chair and chatted with him. “Why didn’t you bring my male god with you?”
Wei Lai said flatly, “He’s constipated.”
Yan Yunshui: “…”
Long Dongqiang snorted, privately marveling at Wei Lai’s boldness.
A celebrity’s persona wasn’t something to be tampered with lightly. Chu Yin had originally been an aloof male god—arrogant yet talented, impossibly handsome. That kind of persona was easy to blow up with, but it was too ethereal, lacking authenticity. To the general public, they’d mostly remember his face, not the person. Yet Wei Lai, in just the first episode, had shattered Chu Yin’s persona bottleneck. One reversal after another, Chu Yin’s image grew fuller—as if they’d rehearsed a script beforehand.
In Long Dongqiang’s mind, Wei Lai was a devilishly cunning manager. He fidgeted, wondering if he’d already become part of Wei Lai’s grand scheme.
“Mr. Long,” Wei Lai opened his eyes and said softly.
Long Dongqiang tensed. “Hm?”
Wei Lai: “Do you want a foot soak? It’s really nice.”
Long Dongqiang: “I’ll… pass. You enjoy.”
Wei Lai seemed about to say something else when his WeChat pinged.
Crybaby Yin: “Where are you?”
“Where’s Big Orange’s cat food?”
“She’s hungry. Come back and feed her.”
Wei Lai thought about it. Orunju’s cat food was right next to the bowl—Chu Yin couldn’t possibly miss it.
So who was really hungry here?
Wei Lai smirked, looking even more scheming than ever.
However, both the production team and Long Dongqiang had misunderstood Wei Lai. He’d genuinely just come to dye his hair after fighting with Chu Yin.
Wei Lai replied: “Okay. I’ll be back soon.”
Yan Yunshui, who was clingy with Wei Lai, cracked sunflower seeds beside him. “Remember that homophobic butcher we ran into on the street?”
Wei Lai: “Hm? Found him?”
Yan Yunshui: “No. But that Ren Zha guy they kept saying they’d beat to death—I’ve had dinner with him before. He works as a civil servant in the education bureau.”
Yan Yunshui was a gossip fiend and spilled everything he’d heard to Wei Lai.
“Apparently, that butcher’s daughter looked like a pig—hideously ugly—and kept harassing Ren Zha. When she found out he was gay, she threatened to out him if he didn’t marry her.”
Zero Salon was packed with fabulous sisters who immediately perked up at this, crowding around to chime in.
“Ren Zha was spineless and married her. But you can’t force love! Ren Zha couldn’t get it up looking at that bitch’s pig face, so she cheated! The other man came knocking, and she couldn’t face the shame, so she tried to kill herself!”
“What does that have to do with Ren Zha? Getting tangled up with such a trashy family—what rotten luck.”
“And us! My male god’s hand got hurt. My heart aches just thinking about it.”
Wei Lai picked up bits and pieces of the gossip. Though he sensed something was off, the fact remained that they’d injured Chu Yin’s hand. This wasn’t something he could let slide.
Long Dongqiang watched as a group of colorful scene queens fluttered around Wei Lai, chattering away in high-pitched voices. The air was thick with the energy of “Nobility marches forth, leaving no blade of grass untouched. Ruin my hairstyle, and I’ll destroy your paradise.” This only reinforced his belief that Wei Lai was not to be trifled with, so he made a hasty exit without another word.
By the time Wei Lai finished dyeing his hair purple, it was almost midnight. Yan Yunshui tried to persuade him to stay: “Sleep is for losers—the night’s just getting started!”
Wei Lai: “NO~. Chu Yin’s still at home.”
Yan Yunshui scoffed: “Is he your son or your husband? Why the rush to get back?”
Wei Lai smiled. “I fought with him this morning. Gotta check if he’s asleep.”
Yan Yunshui: “You’ve reformed. You’re not the same man-essence-sucking slut you used to be.”
“If I can’t suck essence from men,” Wei Lai thought, swinging the small gift bag in his hand, “I can always suck it from a big cat.”
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