Top Dupe CH 089 Toasting Bai Ying And Yan Ye Part 2

Luckily, his agent noticed and quickly called for a break, pulling He Mu aside backstage, warning him not to lose his temper in front of the live audience. “Luo Yu is trending. Talking about his strengths will actually boost your visibility. You’ve been losing popularity lately, and your appearance fees are dropping. Can’t you feel the company’s shifting focus?”

He Mu felt a pang of shock and choked out, “Are you saying… Chairman Ou didn’t approve the additional marketing budget?”

“Exactly. Every idol has a lifecycle, and to those higher up, you may be in a decline phase. So seize any chance for exposure, rather than counting on the company to buy you trending topics or resources. Understand?”

His agent’s gaze was ice-cold, piercing He Mu’s pride. Tears welled in his eyes.

“Take out your acting skills. Think of how Luo Yu performed face-to-face with you in ‘Burn, Little Cosmos’, without showing a hint of resentment or hostility. He stayed calm and effortlessly overshadowed you.”

Despite his resentment and stubbornness, He Mu knew his options were dwindling.

He took a deep breath, returned to the show set with a smile, and praised Luo Yu’s qualities, like his athleticism, build, and horseback riding skills—skills evident in the show, but they still made a good impression when highlighted by He Mu. The audience and guests were all pleased.

After struggling through the recording, the impact of Bai Ying’s trending continued to resonate.

He Mu checked his fan group, hoping for some sympathy, but found them urging restraint, advising not to provoke Luo Yu’s fans. Luo Yu’s fanbase was incredibly disciplined: they avoided direct insults, rarely swore, and didn’t attack other celebrities. When Luo Yu was criticized, they responded with clear evidence, reasoning calmly. Even the rare heated comments were quickly managed by other fans.

This courteous approach endeared them to neutral viewers, leaving He Mu’s fans with no way to rally against Luo Yu and risked seeming envious. With no extra funds from the company, He Mu’s agent dared not buy trolls to attack Luo Yu, fearing backlash from a misstep.

Seeing his fans' excitement from his van window, He Mu regained some pride and decided to roll down the window to greet them.

Predictably, their cheers brought him a bit of long-lost joy.

But just then, someone shouted, “Look—is that Luo Yu?”

“Ahhh—Luo Yu? Where is he?”

“Did Luo Yu come?”

For a moment, He Mu was stunned. Luo Yu came? Where?

Then he realized—they’d mistaken him for Luo Yu because of his plastic surgery.

Feeling deeply humiliated, He Mu quickly rolled up the window, put on his sunglasses, and shouted, “Drive! Drive!”

He truly couldn’t bear hearing Luo Yu’s name anymore.

The gossip pages quickly picked up #HeMuMistakenForLuoYu#, fueling widespread interest. Because these two looked alike, after years of Luo Yu quietly carrying the “He Mu dupe” label, it was time to set things straight.

Cui Zhuxin, having borne this frustration for years, felt it was only fair to stand up for Luo Yu. Rather than hiring marketers, she simply posted a nine-picture collage on Luo Yu’s Weibo, showing photos from his childhood, junior high, high school, university, and early career, all of which proved his natural features. Her caption read: [Grateful for everyone who’s been by my side through the years.]

Luo Yu’s fans understood immediately: he was naturally handsome, handsome since childhood.

Digging into He Mu’s pre-idol competition show photos, netizens saw that while he had always been cute, his current refined look came after altering his eyes, nose, and chin to resemble Luo Yu. He had the look but not the spirit.

Previously, trolls claiming Luo Yu was a “dupe” of He Mu were shut down quickly; even casual fans called them out.

He Mu, panicked at the sight of these comparison posts, urgently contacted his agent to file complaints to quash the narrative.

That night, Luo Yu, hugging his knees, watched the latest episode side by side with Gu Xiaowei. He glanced at Gu Xiaowei and noticed something different about him.

In the past, Gu Xiaowei would always comment on each other’s acting, but tonight, his silence felt uncharacteristic to Luo Yu.

Gu Xiaowei sat with one leg crossed, the other knee bent, holding it with one arm, his chin resting on his knee. His whole demeanor was gloomy, his gaze on the screen, but his mind seemed elsewhere.

“Aren’t you going to say how I did in these two episodes?” Luo Yu stretched out his arm, gently poking Gu Xiaowei on the shoulder.

Gu Xiaowei didn’t answer directly but thought for a moment before speaking. “Do you know what I was thinking in that last scene, when I was sent to buy candy at the convenience store?”

“What were you thinking?”

“I thought that when I returned with the candy, you’d be smiling at me under the bright streetlights. But deep down, as I read the script, I knew that once I walked out of that store, I’d realize there would be no more Bai Ying in my life.”

Gu Xiaowei’s voice was calm throughout, yet it made Luo Yu’s heart ache.

“I was watching you from the car too. Watching you walk out from hell to the world of mortals, with all that human warmth around you. When I was a kid, I’d see this phrase in dramas and novels, that the protagonist is someone’s light—it always felt exaggerated and funny. But as I watched you from the car, I thought—there’s Gu Xiaowei; he’s really so bright.” Luo Yu tilted his face, his gaze falling on Gu Xiaowei.

I’m not talking about Yan Ye, I’m talking about Gu Xiaowei. Just Gu Xiaowei, do you understand?

“You’re not going to exit the stage early like Bai Ying, right?” Gu Xiaowei asked.

Luo Yu sensed a kind of attachment, rare for Gu Xiaowei to so openly show reluctance to part towards anyone or anything.

This special feeling gave Luo Yu an unparalleled sense of satisfaction.

He wanted Gu Xiaowei to long for him more, to depend on him more, so much that no one else could replace him.

“Absolutely not,” Luo Yu said.

“Tomorrow night, Bai Ying’s character will be saying goodbye to the audience. Have you thought about what you’ll say on Weibo?” Gu Xiaowei asked.

“I have. Have you prepared yourself to say goodbye to Bai Ying?” Luo Yu lifted his chin and asked with a smile.

“Yeah.” Gu Xiaowei nodded.

“So what are you planning to say?” Luo Yu moved a little closer to him.

“You’ll know when the time comes.” Gu Xiaowei lowered his eyes; his eyelashes were long, casting a gentle atmosphere.

“Still keeping secrets from me?”

“I’m going to sleep. We have scenes to shoot tomorrow.”

With that, Gu Xiaowei lifted the duvet and lay down.

Luo Yu glanced over at him. Gu Xiaowei had his back to him, only the back of his head visible, with soft black hair spilling onto the pillow.

This guy, after watching this episode, his mood was clearly back to the farewell scene between Bai Ying and Yan Ye.

Luo Yu reached out, initially wanting to touch his hair to comfort him, but some emotions must be walked through on one’s own. He lifted the duvet on the other side, turned off the bedside lamp with a click, and lay down.

After a few seconds, Gu Xiaowei turned his head and asked, “Aren’t you going back to your own room?”

Luo Yu closed his eyes; unless Gu Xiaowei explicitly kicked him out, he planned to sleep here, and he could find plenty of reasons to justify it.

“Did you forget? I had a nightmare last night. After watching the scene of myself gravely injured tonight, who knows if I’ll be haunted again. If you hear me, you can wake me up.”

Luo Yu waited a few seconds, and Gu Xiaowei didn’t react—he must have agreed.

As long as he wasn’t troubled, he was someone who fell asleep quickly. As he was drifting off, he felt Gu Xiaowei turn and gently pull up his duvet.

“Gu Xiaowei.”

“What?”

“That painting you put by the window—haven’t you finished it yet?” Luo Yu asked.

“Not yet.”

“What are you painting?”

“You’ll know when it’s done.”

Luo Yu felt a bit miffed. “Why do you have so many secrets?”

“You don’t have secrets?” Gu Xiaowei countered.

“I do.”

“What secrets?”

“It’s a secret, so why would I tell you?”

With that, Luo Yu turned away, hugging the duvet.

I like you, and I want to be with you in this life—is that a secret?

There might be an even bigger secret, like the fact that I was reborn. But maybe you wouldn’t care.

The next morning, because Luo Yu had slept with Gu Xiaowei, he hadn’t set an alarm.

After Gu Xiaowei finished washing up, he sat on the bed and patted Luo Yu’s shoulder. “Senior Brother, time to get up.”

“En…” Luo Yu waved off Gu Xiaowei’s hand. He was actually awake but wanted to see how Gu Xiaowei would handle getting a lazy person up.

“Senior Brother, if you’re late for the shoot, Director Sheng will give you a big latecomer’s ‘gift’ package.” Gu Xiaowei patted Luo Yu’s head gently.

That was gentler than a shoulder pat, and Luo Yu couldn’t resist that.

“What kind of ‘gift package’…” Luo Yu’s voice was nasally.

Gu Xiaowei leaned a little lower, his other hand propped on Luo Yu’s pillow. “He’ll put your name on the latecomers’ chalkboard for the whole crew to see, shout through a megaphone how many minutes you were late, and make you sit next to him in silence so you worry about what you did wrong, for the rest of the day.”

The first two weren’t too bad—Luo Yu had thick skin. But the last one… sitting on a stool all day would lead to back pain, and Director Sheng’s psychological torment wasn’t something everyone could endure; anyone with a shred of conscience would feel guilty. Luo Yu kept asking himself, am I a person with conscience?

In the few seconds Luo Yu hesitated, Gu Xiaowei suddenly pinched his nose. When Luo Yu opened his eyes, he saw the smile in Gu Xiaowei’s gaze. Seeing that this early in the morning was slightly too seductive.

Luo Yu thought, not good! Mornings are the most dangerous time!

He quickly pushed Gu Xiaowei away, threw off the duvet to avoid giving him a clearer look, and bolted back to his room.

Gu Xiaowei still sat on the bed, his arm suspended mid-air, reaching out to someone who wasn’t there. He looked down, picked up Luo Yu’s slippers, and went to his door.

“You’re not even wearing your slippers?” Gu Xiaowei knocked on the door, calling out.

Inside, Luo Yu was leaning against the door, feeling a surge of embarrassment, his face practically turning beet red.

“Are you planning to wash up without slippers?” Gu Xiaowei asked again.

With each knock, Luo Yu’s heart would skip a beat. “Just… just leave them outside! I’ll be out soon.”

Bro, stop torturing me!

Gu Xiaowei furrowed his brows, lifted his hand halfway, then stopped.

He bent down and placed the slippers outside.

Hearing silence outside, Luo Yu tilted his head back and exhaled a long breath.

“Senior Brother, hurry up with it, or else Ye Shengyi will finish off all the breakfast.”

Gu Xiaowei’s voice suddenly came through again, and Luo Yu felt as if he’d reached his limit.

So, this guy figured it out!

It wasn’t surprising he did. Back in the dorm days, waking up to see each other like this wasn’t unusual; it was always, “Haha, buddy’s in good health, huh?” It’s just that in front of Gu Xiaowei, he felt more self-conscious.

“Keep your observations to yourself if you have character!” Luo Yu said indignantly.

“Oh, I’ll remember that.”

As Gu Xiaowei turned away, there was a thump from the other side of the door—a protest from Luo Yu.

Smiling slightly, Gu Xiaowei returned to his room.

As he straightened the bed, his hand touched the spot where Luo Yu had slept. It was warm, still holding traces of that person’s warmth.

Gu Xiaowei gently rested his forehead on the pillow’s indentation.

Luo Yu wolfed down his breakfast and made it to the set just in time to avoid Director Sheng Yunlan’s “latecomer’s gift package.”

Ye Shengyi skillfully applied makeup for Luo Yu, and several staff members passing by gave him extra glances, some even chatting about the storyline.

“A lot of people in the crew are following ‘Counterattack’. Your fan base is also skyrocketing.” Ye Shengyi lowered his head, brushing Luo Yu’s eyebrows.

“That’s the halo of Bai Ying’s character bringing fans my way. If the next project isn’t stellar, this popularity will quickly fade.”

Popularity is fleeting, and tastes shift every year or two. Ultimately, it’s the roles that matter.

“Well, um… Ai Cheng added me on WeChat last night.”