Chapter 20 – I Have Regrets Too
The video began to play, and music started to flow.
Shi Cha watched the characters’ lip movements on screen and fluently delivered all their lines.
One moment he was a handsome prince, the next an elderly servant, then a group of beautiful princesses, and finally a few small animals watching the ball unfold.
Each character’s voice and emotion were distinctly different.
Though Shi Cha’s expression remained cold, the emotions in his lines matched each character with striking accuracy. Even the opera parts were sung using classical bel canto technique.
The reactions of those present at the scene were one thing—but in the livestream chat, question marks flooded the entire screen.
[“？？？？？？”]
[“？？？？？？”]
[“Is he even human? How can a person make so many different voices?”]
[“Although… in ancient China, there was a performance art called kouji (vocal mimicry), so I guess it’s not that unbelievable for Shi Cha to be this skilled.”]
[“Emmm… I get all that. I’m not jealous of his voice tricks or anything. I just want to know—where can I get that photographic memory? Exams are coming up, and I desperately need that skill!”]
[“Sure, he can match the voices and lip movements—but how can you be sure his French is legit? That huge chunk of French dialogue could be totally made up!”]
[“I’m a French major who just passed the TEM-8 (Test for English Majors, Band 8), and I can say with confidence that Shi Cha’s French is extremely accurate—at least at the C1 level.”]
[“Pfft, is C1 even that impressive? Why not say he’s got an A1 level while you’re at it?”]
[“The scary thing about haters isn’t that they exist—it’s that some of them are completely uneducated. You think it’s like a driver’s license where A is hard and C is easy? In language proficiency, A1 is the lowest level and C2 is the highest. C1 is equivalent to advanced professional fluency.”]
This bit of online knowledge-sharing shut up many of the haters who were attacking just for the sake of it.
Among the people on site, aside from Lin Ran and Lu Lecheng, everyone looked shocked, repeatedly exclaiming in surprise.
Lin Ran’s face was full of pride, like a parent watching their child win an award after performing on stage.
Lu Lecheng, on the other hand, could barely maintain his fake smile. He knew Shi Cha was talented—but not this talented.
Back when they were in school, Shi Cha had always kept a low profile. He never seemed to enjoy the spotlight this much.
His face pale, Lu Lecheng turned to Lin Ran, who looked like he was basking in reflected glory.
If not for Lin Ran’s suggestion, Shi Cha never would’ve asked to redub the film.
And without Shi Cha, Lu Lecheng would have undoubtedly been the star of the day. The company had already bought press releases in advance, but now Shi Cha had swooped in and ruined everything!
When he saw Shi Cha walking over, a surge of anger rushed through Lu Lecheng, and he blurted out:
“Shi Cha, I heard the school only allowed you to live off-campus because you used to self-harm due to autism. I didn’t expect your autistic condition to have improved this much.”
Shi Cha’s past self-harming behavior due to autism was something Lü Lecheng had overheard once, in a conversation between the student advisor and a teacher.
He had never imagined that one day he’d expose this information—especially not during a live variety show. But in that moment, driven by the ugliest parts of human nature, he simply couldn’t bear being overshadowed by Shi Cha anymore, always playing second fiddle, never getting his moment in the sun.
He wanted to destroy Shi Cha—he wanted a future where this person no longer existed in his world.
As soon as Lu Lecheng spoke, everyone’s expression changed.
Zhong Jiarong and the others quickly turned to look at Shi Cha.
Although Shi Cha hadn’t officially entered the entertainment industry yet, just being a graduate of A University—and with that face alone—meant that if he wanted to, he could easily establish himself in the industry.
But now, with Lu Lecheng suddenly exposing his past involving autism and self-harm, it was like planting a landmine right before Shi Cha could take his first step into showbiz.
Lin Ran immediately stepped forward, shielding Shi Cha and blocking the camera from filming his face any further.
Zhong Jiarong quickly tried to steer the conversation away. “Rumors, you know—they always get more ridiculous the more they spread. Maybe he just cut his finger while peeling fruit. One time when I was chopping vegetables, I had a nosebleed from the heat, got blood all over my face and hands. My wife saw me holding a knife and bleeding, thought I’d slit my wrists or something!”
But Lu Lecheng had no intention of letting it go. At this point, he had already played the villain. If he didn’t deal a real blow to Shi Cha, then all his earlier cruelty would’ve been for nothing.
He looked toward Shi Cha, who was now hiding behind Lin Ran with only the back of his head visible, and put on an expression of false concern.
“Shi Cha, seeing how far you’ve come really makes me happy. I hope you’ll be able to enter the entertainment world someday—not live in fear whenever you’re around people.”
“That’s enough!”
Lin Ran, who had previously maintained a calm and gentle demeanor, now turned ice-cold, his entire presence sharp and unrelenting. His gaze sliced across Lu Lecheng like a blade.
“His life is none of your business. Just worry about your own.”
Lu Lecheng looked full of grievance.
“Brother Lin Ran, I’m sorry, I misspoke—please don’t be angry.”
Then he turned to face the livestream camera.
“I’m sorry, everyone. I wasn’t thinking and said something inappropriate. I truly apologize.”
As he spoke, he bowed a full ninety degrees to the camera, appearing deeply sincere.
Qi Jing’s expression wasn’t looking good either—she hadn’t expected Lu Lecheng to suddenly pull something like this. The livestream was about to end, so she couldn’t just shut it off abruptly.
She looked at Lin Ran, silently asking with her eyes how Shi Cha was doing.
If possible, she still hoped Shi Cha could step forward and clarify a few things, so they wouldn’t be flooded with a wave of negative headlines tomorrow.
Lin Ran turned around to face Shi Cha, slightly adjusting his coat to shield him from view.
From everyone else’s angle, it looked like Lin Ran had wrapped Shi Cha entirely in his embrace.
“Are you okay?”
Shi Cha, who had just moments ago seemed lost and abandoned by the whole world, lifted his head slightly when he heard the voice.
His gaze slowly came into focus, and the confusion and helplessness in his eyes began to fade.
[I…]
He was just about to say I’m fine, when he realized his throat felt blocked—he couldn’t get a single word out.
Trying to force himself to speak, he started coughing—but the more he coughed, the worse it got, until he was doubled over and dry heaving.
Qi Jing quickly signaled the camera crew to shift to another part of the set to film the remaining shots.
Lin Ran brought over a bottle of water, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to Shi Cha.
Shi Cha drank several gulps before he could breathe properly again.
“Don’t worry, I’m fine.”
His voice, unlike the cool and aloof tone he had intentionally used earlier, now sounded soft, sweet, and weak.
Lin Ran looked at Shi Cha, whose face was still pale, and suggested gently, “Why don’t we go back to the room and rest for a bit?”
But to his surprise, Shi Cha shook his head and asked a different question.
“Do you think my brother and parents will watch this show?”
He didn’t wait for Lin Ran to answer. Instead, he started talking to himself, analyzing the situation.
“Qi Jing was my mom’s student. She probably told her I’d be on this show. So… they might watch it. I shouldn’t have let them see me like this.”
As he spoke, he began nervously biting his thumb—a habit he had whenever he was anxious.
“I promised them I could live well on my own.”
With that, he straightened up and began walking toward the next filming location.
After taking a dozen or so steps, he suddenly stopped, turned to look at Lin Ran, who was following closely behind—and in that moment, it was as if he’d become someone else entirely.
Gentle, composed, with a calm and confident smile.
Lin Ran was slightly taken aback—this version of Shi Cha didn’t feel like the same person.
Shi Cha smiled faintly and looked at Lin Ran.
“Come on, the show should be ending soon. I’m still waiting to collect my paycheck.”
At the time, Zhong Jiarong and the others were chatting casually.
Well—“casually”—some were trying to build rapport, while others were taking the chance to promote their latest works or upcoming schedules.
For example, Zhou Caizhe was sharing some behind-the-scenes stories from a drama he’d filmed, which had already been scheduled to air in half a month on three major platforms.
Lu Lecheng also used the opportunity to announce that his group was about to hold a concert.
As the conversation continued, Shi Cha and Lin Ran walked over.
Zhong Jiarong glanced at Lin Ran first. Seeing no particular expression on his face, he figured Shi Cha was probably fine.
He quickly waved them over to sit down, and Wu Heze cooperatively made space for them.
“Just now, Heze was telling us your ‘Summit’ All-Star match is about to start. Lin Ran, you’re still ranked first. Looks like even after retirement, the audience hasn’t forgotten you.”
Not knowing how to bring up Shi Cha right away, he steered the topic toward Lin Ran instead.
Lin Ran responded openly, “Voting was supposed to end this morning. I haven’t had a chance to check the results yet.”
Wu Heze laughed. “I just secretly checked on my phone—you’ve made it in. And you had the highest support rate among all the players.”
Lin Ran took the opportunity to thank the fans watching the livestream.
Meanwhile, Shi Cha—no longer putting on the aloof “wallpaper” persona—actually joined in to tease Lin Ran a little.
Seeing that he seemed perfectly normal, Wu Heze and the others finally relaxed.
Only Lu Lecheng shot Shi Cha a strange look before speaking in a worried tone, “Shi Cha, you were throwing up just now. Are you really okay? Do you want to rest a bit longer?”
Though his words sounded caring, everyone present couldn’t help frowning.
Did he really think they couldn’t hear the passive-aggressiveness behind it? This was textbook green tea behavior.
Shi Cha replied with a calm smile, showing no sign of irritation.
“Thanks for your concern, I’m fine. I probably just overate this morning and felt a bit stuffed.”
Then he casually brought up the earlier incident.
“By the way, about what you mentioned earlier—I’ll admit, I was a little withdrawn as a kid. But that was all before I was seven or eight. Otherwise, how could I have skipped two grades and still gotten into A University as the top-ranked student? I even found time to study painting, music, calligraphy, astronomy—and learned ten foreign languages on the side.”
Everyone: “…”
Where did this sudden humblebrag come from?
“As for the self-harm you mentioned—it was probably this.”
As Shi Cha spoke, he rolled up his sleeve and revealed a five-centimeter-long scar on his forearm, near the wrist. But it ran along the length of the arm—not across it.
When Lin Ran saw the scar on Shi Cha’s arm, he froze.
He hadn’t realized this scar might be mistaken by others as a sign of self-harm.
“This scar is from when I accidentally cut myself as a kid. Maybe someone saw it and just misunderstood.”
Shi Cha smoothly explained the self-harm rumors. His tone was open and candid—nothing about it felt like a lie.
Zhong Jiarong chuckled, half-joking, half-serious: “I knew it had to be a misunderstanding. Xiao Lu, you really can’t believe everything you hear, you know? Haha.”
He hadn’t thought much of Lu Lecheng before, but after today’s behavior, he found him rather off-putting.
Being called out by an industry senior, Lu Lecheng’s face flushed red and then pale. Still, he didn’t believe Shi Cha’s explanation one bit.
Shi Cha had always been withdrawn and socially anxious at school, barely interacting with classmates. There was no way, in his mind, that Shi Cha’s condition had magically improved.
Just as he was about to speak again, Shi Cha cut him off.
“Lecheng, remember when Professor Wu recommended me to interview at Huashi? I had something going on at the time, so I declined. Didn’t you volunteer to go in my place after that?”
Lu Lecheng blinked, caught off guard by the sudden topic change.
“Huashi only recruits two students from our school each year. Did you not pass the interview?”
Lu Lecheng: “…” I…
Shi Cha gave him a sympathetic look. “That’s really a shame.”
Before Lu Lecheng could react, Shi Cha continued: “But it’s fine! You’re now the captain of… uh… ‘TOP0’, right? That’s great too. Idol groups these days can stay popular for two whole years.”
“…”
Lu Lecheng’s lips twitched. He wanted to curse. What’s that supposed to mean? Are you cursing me to flop?
Zhou Caizhe couldn’t hold back and gently corrected him from the side, “It’s ‘TOPONE.’”
Shi Cha immediately apologized, sounding completely sincere.
“Sorry, I didn’t watch the show and got the name wrong. I thought your group aimed to be better than first place! But ‘TOPONE’ is a great name too. I hope that in places where I’m not around, you can keep rising—and finally stop finishing second.”
“After all, back in school, you never did get first place, right? I imagine that must still sting a little.”
It took every ounce of Lu Lecheng’s willpower not to storm off right then and there.
But Shi Cha wasn’t done. He sighed dramatically.
“Speaking of regrets—I’ve got one too. I’ve never gotten second place in anything all these years.”
Lu Lecheng: “!!!” What the actual hell—
Everyone else: “???” Did he just reach enlightenment or something!?
!!!! 💀💀💀