Chapter 393

Chapter 393

◎Gaining at Others’ Expense◎

He Wan returned home with a stormy expression. He lived in a sprawling penthouse in the heart of the city. Though he had only debuted a few years ago and was currently riding a wave of popularity, he couldn’t afford to buy such a multimillion-dollar property. The apartment was rented—and the rent wasn’t cheap.

He had gone all out for two reasons: first, because he had become famous and wanted to enjoy the finer things in life; second, because Ji Nanxing lived in this area.

He had done his research—Ji Nanxing owned property here, with several floors of one building occupied by the Ji family brothers. He had hoped that by moving in, he’d eventually run into him.

But as it turned out, Ji Nanxing didn’t even live there. Still, this kind of luxurious penthouse lifestyle was what the elite deserved, and He Wan couldn’t bring himself to leave, so he stayed put.

His manager had been waiting inside for some time. Seeing his face upon returning, she immediately knew things hadn’t gone well. “Still no contact?”

He Wan: “I reached out, but those people acted clueless.”

The manager chuckled. “I told you—the best approach is to go straight for Ji Nanxing. Trying to get close to his circle might just backfire.”

He Wan poured himself a drink. Of course he knew the best course of action, but he couldn’t help feeling resentful. He was green with envy—maddeningly jealous.

He had debuted as a K-pop-style idol, rising through a singing and dancing competition. His good looks earned him a sizable fanbase. Though his stage skills weren’t top-tier, his face alone got him onto the podium.

After debuting, he balanced group promotions with acting roles in a few dramas. Though they were minor supporting parts, the characters were well-written, and his looks stood out. When the shows became hits, his popularity blew up overnight, surpassing even the competition’s winners.

His agency had mapped out a steady career path for him—singing, acting, variety shows—as long as there was screen time, he took it. Young and TV-ready, his acting wasn’t terrible either. Since the roles suited his personality, his performances came across as natural, even earning him praise for his acting chops.

If he had continued at this pace, even without explosive fame, he could have carved out a stable place in the industry. His early success had made him a little arrogant, but not delusional—until he gained a wealthy “mom fan.”

He had plenty of fans, but beyond a few dedicated big spenders and active supporters, he didn’t have the time or capacity to keep track of them all. So, he had no idea one of them was obscenely wealthy—far beyond the so-called “rich fans” he was used to.

It all started when he auditioned for a background role. Given his current fame, he wasn’t aiming for second or third lead—just a small part with a few lines. He had already signed the contract when someone else replaced him at the last minute.

Though he received a penalty fee, the payout for such a minor role was negligible. Worse, he had cleared his schedule for filming, turning down other jobs in the process.

He couldn’t exactly complain publicly—this was just how the industry worked. If you weren’t irreplaceable, you had to accept being replaced. But after a smooth run, this sudden setback stung more than he cared to admit.

His fans, who tracked his every move, found out anyway and rallied behind him in outrage.

Just when he thought the matter was over, his manager suddenly received an invitation to an A-list fashion event—far beyond what a rising star like him should’ve had access to. After triple-checking the legitimacy of the invite, He Wan felt like he’d hit the jackpot.

On the day of the event, gossip columns planted hit pieces about him shamelessly crashing the red carpet. But when photos of him at the event surfaced, the narrative flipped into a Cinderella moment, giving him a satisfying underdog high.

And that wasn’t all. At the event, an elegant, glamorous socialite smiled at him and even had him model an exorbitantly expensive piece of jewelry.

He had deep-pocketed fans before—ones who splurged on billboards and ads, buying up prime advertising slots in half-hour loops. But none of them had the clout to get him into an event like this, let alone deck him out in priceless gems.

After the event, the woman even took him to a private dinner. Soon after, he landed a third-lead role in a drama—one that, by sheer luck, became a massive hit, propelling the entire cast to new heights of fame.

His smooth debut had already inflated his ego, and without much real industry grind, he quickly rose to prominence. The higher he climbed, the more he saw—and the more he wanted.

Before, at events, idols like him were nobodies, pushed around like props and scolded by staff for being clueless. But after the drama’s success, he was treated like royalty everywhere—addressed as “teacher,” with dedicated makeup artists and handlers at his beck and call.

Everyone bent over backwards for him. Everyone smiled.

The difference was night and day.

Later he learned that the wealthy lady took a liking to him, brought him to the fashion gala, and even secured him a role in a drama—all because he bore an uncanny resemblance to her son. Seeing his original work opportunity snatched away made her think of whether her own son might suffer similar injustices out in the world. Out of sympathy, she showered him with resources.

Jealousy slowly sprouted from envy, especially when he discovered who she was and who her son was. The resemblance only deepened his resentment.

Some people are born with everything handed to them. The apartment he drained his savings to rent was left empty by others, not even worth occupying.

Resources he had to grovel for might never come his way, yet they fell into his lap simply because he resembled someone else—handouts born of association.

The wealthy lady’s fondness for him was only because he carried the shadow of another.

How could he swallow that? How could he not be jealous? Why were some people’s lives so blessed? If such people stayed far away, it wouldn’t matter—but they were right there, close enough to cast their shadow over him, warping his perspective.

He wanted to replace them, to seize everything they had that he coveted. The master had told him that a person’s fortune and energy field could influence one another.

Spending time around those with positive energy could gradually shift one’s own aura. If influence was possible, did that not also mean plundering was possible?

He trusted that master deeply. His smooth debut was all thanks to the master’s divination, guiding him to avoid misfortune and fend off industry rivals. Without that, he never would’ve placed third—his spot would’ve been taken by industry plants.

To succeed, to possess lasting fortune, unconventional methods were necessary.

The master told him there were two ways to replace someone: soul swapping, but this method was only mentioned in an incomplete manuscript, and beyond the master’s power—or the transfer of fortune.

"Completely replacing someone is impossible, but diverting their fortune isn’t out of reach. Luck and energy can build up or cancel out—when those around them begin to favor you, their fortune will shift toward you. Those born into great wealth are inherently blessed. Even a slight influence would be a game-changer for you. But remember, greed is dangerous. Human fate has limits. Overreach invites backlash."

He understood the master’s meaning: he needed to befriend Ji Nanxing. Their resemblance was a natural advantage. The more acceptance he gained from Ji Nanxing’s circle, the more he could siphon off some of Ji Nanxing’s fortune.

His manager had analyzed it—Ji Nanxing’s mother liked him, and he shared some resemblance with Ji Nanxing. That was already an advantage. Ideally, he’d become friends with Ji Nanxing, sharing more red-carpet moments, gradually integrating into his life. More interactions would only benefit him.

But he couldn’t accept it. He was jealous. He refused to play the counterfeit, fawning over the genuine article. Instead, he wanted to steal away those around Ji Nanxing. If they could come to favor him—even if it started as secondhand affection—one day, he might fully replace him.

Completely unaware of He Wan's thoughts, Ji Nanxing continued his normal routine of attending school and returning home afterward. He hadn’t joined any clubs and had deliberately chosen relatively easy courses, giving him plenty of free time. With nothing better to do, he occasionally took on cases from the Management Bureau. Fortunately, he hadn’t encountered any particularly dangerous ghosts—mostly just minor domestic disturbances.

There was an elderly spirit upset with how their descendants handled their funeral, causing trouble during the seventh-day mourning rites. Others were wandering spirits accidentally picked up by people who walked alone at night too often. He even dealt with one case involving an animal spirit.

A girl had raised a tabby cat since it was a kitten, keeping it for eighteen years until it passed away peacefully in old age. The cat lived half-indoor, half-outdoor—returning home every night to sleep and going out during the day to play. This arrangement lasted nearly two decades without incident, and the cat died naturally.

However, after its death, strange occurrences began happening at night—cups being knocked over, food dispensed by the automatic feeder at the old feeding times despite having its schedule changed, and blurry images of a running cat captured on camera.

The girl wasn’t frightened, but she couldn’t understand why the cat’s spirit wouldn’t move on. Wondering if it had unfinished business, she searched online—and that’s when the Management Bureau’s big data monitoring system flagged her activity, generating a new case.

When Ji Nanxing arrived, he immediately saw the lingering cat spirit. After some interspecies communication between human and cat, he learned the truth: knowing it was nearing death, the old cat had caught many small animals as gifts for the family before passing. It had hidden them outside but never got the chance to bring them home.

Once Ji Nanxing pulled out a pile of dead mice and birds from the cat hole, the girl finally understood what her beloved pet had left behind. Seeing that its secret stash had been found, the old cat’s spirit finally felt at peace and moved on.

Hearing about the case, Xiao Ye laughed. “Next time, let me go instead. You shouldn’t be doing all the dirty work.”

Imagining his fair-skinned, sweet-smelling Naonao expressionlessly digging through a cat hole and pulling out a pile of dead mice made Xiao Ye laugh even harder. “Let me check—do you smell like rats now?”

Ji Nanxing slapped a hand over his face and shoved him away. “Go bother someone else.”

After the teasing, Xiao Ye remembered something and pulled out his phone. “Did you see today’s trending news? This morning, someone claimed your mom was dating a young celebrity. By noon, it was debunked—it turned out the guy looks a little like you, so she loved him for your sake. Some troublemakers even posted side-by-side photos of you two, though they were taken down quickly.”

Ji Nanxing glanced at the screen. “Didn’t see it. Was it a big deal?”

Xiao Ye: “Not really. The rumor spread fast, but the rebuttal was faster. The actor even posted a video explaining how lucky he felt to gain a ‘mom’-type fan because his eyes and eyebrows resemble yours. He said he wished he could meet you someday—maybe even become good friends.”

Xiao Ye rolled his eyes. “That’s the guy we met at dinner the other day. What’s his angle? Was this rumor started by his rivals, or did he orchestrate it himself?”

Ji Nanxing: “Who cares? No matter what he’s planning, eventually his tail will show.”

Ji Nanxing never feared schemes. If it was an overt scheme, his family certainly wasn’t vegetarian—they’d handle it. And if it was a covert plot? Then it was just asking to be crushed by him.