What Should I Do if My Best Friend Is a Green Tea? [Transmigrated Into a Book]

The system's eyes widened in shock, staring blankly for a long moment before reluctantly muttering: "No wonder I'm just a side character system..."

"You people are practically made of solid cunning—eight hundred schemes packed into one!"

Yan Xi sighed helplessly. "That’s because your mind is too busy fawning over handsome guys. If you paid closer attention, you’d notice the clues too."

The system huffed indignantly: "What’s wrong with fawning over handsome guys?"

"A system’s life needs some shallow happiness! What’s so bad about that?"

Then, abruptly changing the subject, it pulled out a handful of sunflower seeds and leaned in mischievously. "Host, what other juicy gossip—ahem, clues—have you uncovered? Spill the details!"

Yan ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‍Xi: "..."

"Didn’t you notice the plot did something similar to Zhou Yanci too?"

The system gasped. "It did?!"

"You’re the one who told me Zhou Yanci is Ye Luoyi’s white moonlight."

"Even though they have such an important dynamic, Ye Luoyi and Zhou Yanci barely interact. For someone like Zhou Yanci, it’s strange he wasn’t turned into one of Ye Luoyi’s 'fish'."

The system pondered. "Oh right! I remember they never shared a scene in the novel. Only at Zhou Yanci’s funeral did Ye Luoyi cry so bitterly that the plot finally mentioned her feelings for him."

Yan Xi smiled knowingly. "Because the 'white moonlight' trope elevated Zhou Yanci from 'the female supporting character’s brother' to 'the female lead’s unattainable love,' increasing his narrative importance."

"The same goes for the Lu family’s youngest daughter. Ye Luoyi is essentially her stand-in, tied to her through the 'switched at birth' trope. So if I become the Lu family’s daughter, my role’s significance also rises."

"This direct connection to the female lead is what allows the plot to manipulate us."

Just like how the plot could force Zhou Qingyu into being lovestruck—because she and Ye Luoyi are foils, the supporting female versus the protagonist. But it couldn’t stop Xia Momo from waking up, since her ties to Ye Luoyi were distant.

The closer a character is to the story’s core, the more entangled they become in the plot’s web of fate.

The system gritted its teeth, successfully splitting a sunflower seed in half. "The plot is so sneaky! I never noticed before!"

Yan Xi sighed. "That’s why we need to hurry and gather more fortune points, so Qingyu can break free completely."

"Oh, host! The tension earlier made me forget to mention!"

The system’s eyes sparkled as it stuffed a seed into its mouth. "We just got two more fortune point alerts!"

Ding! Zhou Yanci’s health index improved. Zhou Qingyu gains +5 fortune points.

Zhou family relations have eased. Zhou Qingyu gains +1 fortune point. Current total: 66.2 points.

---

The next morning, Zhou Qingyu slept in as usual.

As the third female lead, her scenes were limited. Producer Xu knew better than to provoke the spoiled young miss and scheduled most of her shoots for the afternoon.

Yan Xi woke early, had breakfast, then packed extra meals for Zhou Yanci and Aunt Zhang.

The hospital at dawn reeked of antiseptic and alcohol, filled with pale-faced patients shuffling slowly with their families’ support. It was a place haunted by death—yet also brimming with hope.

When she reached Zhou Yanci’s VIP ward, the door was slightly ajar. Someone had arrived even earlier. Inside, Zhou Yanci sat upright in his hospital gown, a modified tray table holding his laptop as he worked. Assistant Sun stood beside him, delivering reports.

Yan Xi: "..."

So competitive! She hadn’t even had coffee yet!

She set the breakfast on the tray. "Didn’t the doctor say you need rest? You already worked two hours yesterday. What time is it now? Eat first, then work!"

Assistant Sun’s eyes bulged. Was Yan Xi insane? Boss Zhou never tolerated orders!

"Yan Xi, this is a critical project for the group—"

"Alright," Zhou Yanci set the documents aside and pulled the breakfast toward him. "We’ll eat first."

Assistant Sun: ?

Yan Xi unpacked the chef’s meal: a sandwich, lactose-free soy milk (since Zhou Yanci was intolerant), and a side of greens.

Assistant Sun scoffed. "The boss never eats vegeta—"

"That’s unacceptable!" Yan Xi cut in. "Patients need balanced nutrition. The doctor said more vitamins."

Assistant Sun smirked inwardly. Yeah right. Asking a carnivore to eat greens was like converting a tiger to vegetarianism. Not happening.

Then he watched Zhou Yanci pick up a fork and obediently stab a carrot. "You’re right. A bit of everything."

Assistant Sun: ???

Boss! Blink twice if you’ve been body-snatched!

---

After supervising Zhou Yanci’s meal, Yan Xi left for Star Glory Entertainment.

She had work there—and more importantly, needed to scrounge up the remaining fortune points. She couldn’t hover around Zhou Yanci forever.

Assistant Sun, still dazed, pinched his cheeks to reboot.

Zhou Yanci watched Yan Xi’s retreating figure, his expression softening.

Maybe hospitalization changed people? Assistant Sun had heard some cold personalities mellowed after near-death experiences, realizing nothing mattered except life and death.

Was that it?

Heartened, Assistant Sun seized the moment.

"Boss, we’ve worked together so long—I’ll be blunt. I want a month’s paid leave..."

Zhou Yanci: ?

He turned, icy. "Assistant Sun, are you resigning?"

Assistant Sun: T^T

---

That morning, Yan Xi holed up in Star Glory’s VP office.

The CEO, Qu Yan (Zhou Qingyu’s aunt), showed up once a year for the annual meeting and otherwise stayed hands-off. Daily operations fell to Lin Zhi, with major projects overseen by Yu Xiao.

Initially, Yu Xiao assumed Yan Xi would replace him with Lin Zhi as her deputy. But Yan Xi knew better—she’d likely emulate Qu Yan’s absenteeism. She was here for fortune points, not a corporate career.

Managing Star Glory might earn Zhou Qingyu a trickle of points, but Yan Xi needed jackpots like Shen Xinghe or Han Shu.

So she delegated routine tasks to Lin Zhi and buried herself in project files, hunting for dark horses.

System: "Host, how many hidden gems can there be? Last time you scoured for 30 points and found nothing."

"No, I remember one project I dismissed earlier. Now I think it’s promising!"

Flipping through the stacks, she finally unearthed the overlooked proposal.

This project proposal was submitted to Xingyao two months ago. The project department reviewed it but didn't approve it. The evaluation report stated: "This project has some investment potential, but the risks are too high. There are no precedents in the domestic market, so we do not recommend investment."

The person who submitted the project was a female director named Chu Tingbai. She wanted to produce an idol-training reality show.

The idol market in China wasn't thriving, and Chu Tingbai's proposal had been rejected by numerous companies, including streaming platforms and TV stations—without exception.

Yan Xi quickly flipped through the proposal and found Chu Tingbai’s contact information on the last page.

---

Ancient trees towered into the sky, their dense foliage blotting out the sunlight. A babbling stream wound through the landscape, its pebbled bed clearly visible beneath the crystal-clear water.

The MV filming crew had already set up their cameras, positioning them to capture the young man standing in the stream. He wore a white silk shirt, paired with loose black linen pants, barefoot as he stood in the cool water, the hem of his pants soaked.

The young female director stood by the monitor on the shore, her seaweed-like hair tied into a low bun, loosely secured with a pencil. She held a megaphone and directed the stylist, "Don’t just stand there! Splash some water on Mr. Shen’s chest—and wet his hair a little too!"

The boy had initially just been a lost youth in the stream, but once his shirt was drenched, clinging to his skin, the contours of his chest and abs became faintly visible beneath the semi-transparent fabric—just enough to tease the imagination.

His hair was now wet as well, droplets sliding down his dark blue curls like a stranded mermaid with nowhere to go, exuding an air of lonely beauty.

The crew members, who had been indifferent before, were now staring in awe—

"Ji Xingzhou’s abs are no joke!"

"With that face, Mr. Shen looks like an untouchable ice prince—this contrast is insane!"

"Director Chu knows exactly what she’s doing! The sexual tension is off the charts, no wonder everyone wants her to shoot their MVs!"

Chu Tingbai’s reputation in the industry for shooting MVs was impeccable. She had a gift for capturing atmosphere, and her lens always framed celebrities at their most stunning.

But Chu Tingbai wasn’t content with just being an MV director. She didn’t have grand ambitions of winning film awards—she considered herself shallow, admitting she loved shallow pleasures, like admiring beautiful people. That was why she wanted to create an idol-training show, to capture the energy of young idols performing on stage. Wasn’t that a kind of beauty too?

But the domestic entertainment industry was cowardly. Without any successful precedents, no one had faith in her project. Half a year had passed since she first submitted her proposal, and not a single company had responded.

Stupid humans!

They were missing out on the chance to appreciate true beauty—did they even realize it?

So, Chu Tingbai had no choice but to keep hauling her camera around, shooting MVs as usual.

Amid the mountains and forests, the only sounds were the flowing water, birdsong, and the rustling of leaves in the wind—everything pure and untouched, much like Chu Tingbai’s lens, which captured the most primal human desires.

Then, a phone rang.

Chu Tingbai frowned impatiently. "Working hours—everyone’s phones should be on silent!"

The crew fell into terrified silence. No one dared to speak.

But after a pause, the ringing started again.

Chu Tingbai was furious. She had just captured the perfect shot—Ji Xingzhou’s icy exterior melting into something wild—only for the moment to be ruined by that damn ringtone!

"Whose phone is that? Did I not make myself clear?"

No one answered. Ji Xingzhou hesitantly pointed at Chu Tingbai’s canvas bag.

"Director Chu… I think it’s yours."

Chu Tingbai: "…"

She wasn’t known for her patience. Snatching her phone, she snapped, "Hello—?"

A bright, girlish voice answered, "Director Chu, hello! I’m the executive vice president of Xingyao, and I’d like to invest in your project."

Chu Tingbai froze for two seconds before her expression darkened. "Executive vice president of Xingyao? Kid, you’re too young to be pulling scams. I may not be good at much, but my hearing is sharp—are you even eighteen yet?"

Yan Xi: "…"

Yan Xi was stunned. Sure, she wasn’t the mature, sultry type, but being mistaken for a minor?

Lin Zhi, standing nearby, whispered, "President Yan, when you’re being polite, your voice sounds too soft—it makes you seem younger. Plus, phone calls distort voices a little."

Yan Xi huffed and shoved the phone at Lin Zhi. "You handle it!"

With her professional efficiency, Lin Zhi resolved the matter in five minutes, convincing Chu Tingbai that Xingyao genuinely wanted to invest.

Now, it was Chu Tingbai’s turn to be stunned.

She remembered submitting her proposal to Xingyao two months ago—why was the response only coming now? Had her proposal taken a world tour before reaching Xingyao’s executives?

But since this was about investment, Chu Tingbai became more cautious and dropped her earlier rudeness.

She announced a ten-minute break for the crew, then found a spot with better reception to call back.

This time, Yan Xi answered again.

Cutting straight to the point, Yan Xi said, "Director Chu, I’ve reviewed your proposal. If you’re available, we can discuss the details at Xingyao."

Chu Tingbai was baffled. After half a year of rejections, someone actually wanted to invest? The sudden possibility made her nervous, and she instinctively repeated all the reasons others had given for turning her down—

"Are you sure you want to invest? The domestic idol market isn’t doing well…"

"And in a training show like this, aside from the mentors, all the contestants are unknowns—no fanbase, no popularity… The mentors bring their own fans, but they won’t get much screen time…"

Yan Xi chuckled. "Director Chu, this is your project. Why are you less confident than I am?"

Chu Tingbai paused, then smacked her own forehead in self-mockery. "I used to be confident. Half a year of rejections wore me down."

Yan Xi: "I reviewed your project a week ago and wasn’t convinced either. But you must have heard about Zhou Qingyu’s recent concert in H Country, right?"

Chu Tingbai straightened. That incident had been huge—it even launched a talented new singer, Han Shu. Later, when K Entertainment collapsed and multiple agencies in H Country were investigated, as someone in the industry, Chu Tingbai couldn’t have missed it.

"From that concert alone, we recouped the production costs just through livestream donations. Plus, I’ve analyzed H Country’s top idol groups over the years—without exception, they all targeted the Chinese market. That proves there’s a huge demand here. The problem isn’t the lack of a market—it’s the lack of a stage for idols to shine."

Chu Tingbai listened quietly as Yan Xi laid out the rationale for an idol-training show.

With every point Yan Xi made, Chu Tingbai felt a surge of familiarity—even excitement. It was as if someone had finally put into words what she’d always believed.

The once chilled heart began to pound violently again, as Chu Tingbai could already picture how the variety show would turn out in the future.

Wrapping up, Yan Xi concluded, "I think this project has potential. Director Chu, would you like to give it a try together?"

Without hesitation, Chu Tingbai replied, "I still have an MV to finish shooting, but I can wrap it up today. Once I’m done, I’ll head straight to Hai City to meet you!"

With Chu Tingbai’s agreement secured, Yan Xi felt as if a massive weight had been lifted from her chest.

She had always relied on identifying future hit projects from novels, but such hidden gems were limited. Having grown familiar with the entertainment industry, Yan Xi wanted to try spotting the next big trend herself.

It was a bold move, but her foresight had never failed her before.

"Oh, how’s Han Shu doing?" Yan Xi asked Lin Zhi.

Han Shu was one of her most valuable assets at the moment. Though her popularity was rising, she still had a long way to go before becoming a diva—which meant there was plenty of "luck value" left to harvest from her.

Compared to Shen Xinghe, whose fame required slow accumulation through lengthy film projects, Han Shu, as a singer, could perform on variety shows without hindering her career. It was the perfect way to boost exposure.

Lin Zhi replied, "Qiao Yan has reached out to several music producers to tailor an album for Han Shu. There are also a few production teams interested in having her sing OSTs."

Yan Xi nodded. Han Shu couldn’t just keep singing other people’s songs—she needed her own.

"If possible, have Qiao Yan scout some suitable music variety shows for Han Shu. Building her fanbase wouldn’t hurt."

"Got it."

---

That afternoon, Yan Xi visited the set of Madness to check in on the production.

Madness was a big-budget film with a 500-million investment, starring seasoned actors and A-listers. In such a high-caliber crew, Zhou Qingyu’s rudimentary acting skills were glaringly inadequate.

Fortunately, Yan Xi had turned down other offers for Zhou Qingyu—roles that didn’t suit her would only waste time. She even hired an acting coach to drill Zhou Qingyu intensively, rehearsing every scene of her supporting role repeatedly.

Hard work paid off—that saying held true.

With relentless practice and the natural fit between Zhou Qingyu and her character, Lihua, her performance ended up shining.

Especially during the cello scenes, when Zhou Qingyu immersed herself in the role, Director Wei was moved to tears, almost believing the real Lihua had come to life.

Director Wei and Producer Xu had initially resisted Yan Xi’s casting change—not because Ye Luoyi was perfect for the role, but because they feared Zhou Qingyu’s acting would ruin the film.

But now, Director Wei felt the industry rumors were completely off the mark. Zhou Qingyu’s acting wasn’t bad at all! She held her own even against veteran actors.

The slander against her was utterly unfounded!

With her stunning looks, decent acting skills, and personal investment, Miss Zhou was an actress worth collaborating with again in the future.

During a break, Yan Xi handed Zhou Qingyu a cup of herbal tea.

Since Lihua’s character required a striking appearance, Zhou Qingyu had to maintain her figure—no more milk tea for now.

"You’re not drinking milk tea yourself, and you won’t let me treat the crew to snacks either. Isn’t that a bit unfair?" Yan Xi teased, remembering how Zhou Qingyu had once brought an entire food truck to the Bottom Line set.

"I have money now! Treating everyone to afternoon tea wouldn’t even make a dent!"

Zhou Qingyu waved her off. "It’s not that I won’t treat them—just not you."

As soon as she finished speaking, a food truck rolled onto the set.

It was from a five-star hotel, and even the plates holding the pastries screamed luxury.

A banner on the truck read: "Tianhui and Zhou Qingyu wish the 'Mad Summer and Winter' crew a smooth shoot!"

Tianhui? Pei Yubai?

A Ferrari followed the food truck, and Pei Yubai stepped out.

"I’m here to visit Qingyu on set. This afternoon tea is from both of us—please enjoy!" Pei Yubai smiled warmly, playing the generous host.

Though inwardly, he winced at the cost. Tianhui’s finances weren’t great lately, and he’d hoped to save where he could. When he visited Ye Luoyi’s set before, he hadn’t spent even a tenth of this amount!

Unaware of his internal struggle, the crew happily accepted the treats, thanking Pei Yubai profusely.

Carrying a slice of cake and a cup of black tea, Pei Yubai approached Zhou Qingyu.

That phone call with her had been a wake-up call—he was determined to win her back. Since she was giving him a chance, he figured she was just playing hard to get. A little persistence, and she’d come around.

Pei Yubai gazed at her tenderly. "Qingyu, I got your favorite afternoon tea."

"Just leave it there."

Zhou Qingyu barely glanced at it, cradling her herbal tea instead. "I’m on a diet. Can’t have sugary stuff right now."

Pei Yubai’s smile twitched.

Couldn’t you have mentioned that earlier?!

But he swallowed the words, keeping his pleasant facade intact.

Meanwhile, Yan Xi happily dug into the cake and iced coffee Pei Yubai had provided. The cake was fluffy and perfectly sweet, while the coffee’s creamy ice cream balanced its bitterness—five-star treats indeed!

And watching Pei Yubai’s face shift between pale and green made the cake taste even sweeter.

Noticing Pei Yubai’s visit, Director Wei called for a half-hour break.

Zhou Qingyu stretched her limbs, stiff from sitting in one position while pretending to play the cello all afternoon.

"Pei Yubai," she called out, loud enough for nearby ears to perk up. "Come here and massage my calves."

Pei Yubai’s face darkened. He was the CEO of Tianhui, not her personal servant! And with everyone watching… how humiliating!

But for the sake of his future in the Pei family, he gritted his teeth and knelt beside her.

The curious stares and whispers burned, but he endured.

His fingers trembled slightly as they brushed against Zhou Qingyu’s smooth, slender legs—pale as porcelain. A flicker of distraction crossed his mind.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a familiar figure.

—Pei Hanli.

Pei Hanli was one of the investors in Crazy. Shortly after Xingyao invested in the project, Pei Hanli also joined in, filling the financial gap for Crazy, which allowed the film to start production so quickly.

However, the money came from Pei Hanli’s personal account, counting as his individual investment, so Pei Yubai couldn’t claim any credit.

Now, seeing Pei Hanli, Pei Yubai felt even more humiliated by the act of massaging a woman, wishing he could vanish into the ground.

Zhou Qingyu frowned and kicked Pei Yubai hard in the face!

"Pei Yubai, focus! You’re hurting me!"

Pei Yubai lost his balance and fell flat on his face, looking utterly disheveled.

He scrambled to his feet, terrified that Pei Hanli might glance his way. He could grovel before Zhou Qingyu or shamelessly try to win her back, but doing so in front of Pei Hanli was too degrading.

"I have work to attend to—I’ll take my leave!"

Pei Yubai turned and fled in a panic.

Halfway out, he glanced back and saw Pei Hanli standing beside Zhou Qingyu, who was still rubbing her calf, clearly in discomfort.

"Honestly, he can’t even massage properly. How useless is he? Yan Xi, call the masseuse from yesterday—my legs are killing me."

Yan Xi pulled out her phone to contact the masseuse when suddenly, Pei Hanli knelt before Zhou Qingyu.

Pei Hanli was tall, and this position forced him to look up at Zhou Qingyu seated in her chair. Yet he showed no shame—only calm composure.

"Miss," he said gently and politely, "why not let me try?"

Pei Yubai’s breath hitched.

Zhou Qingyu met Pei Hanli’s sharp, narrow eyes and didn’t refuse.

"Alright."