Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 79

When he clicked on the video, it was quiet, with only a past version of himself holding a green frog plushie, motionless. If it weren’t for the progress bar moving forward, one might think someone had pressed the pause button.

“Bell!”

The sudden shout from the speakers startled Ran Lin.

He didn’t remember being so heart-wrenchingly loud at the time!

In the video, Ran Lin wasn’t disturbed by the outside world; he was like frozen in a moment belonging only to “Xiao Shitou”—no past or future, no distinction between in-character and out-of-character—only the present, only the “Bell” in his arms…

“Don’t leave me.”

His fair and handsome face slowly lifted with his choked words, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Initially, there was only one drop.

Then gradually, they flowed like a spring.

In the video, Ran Lin suddenly hugged the “green frog” tightly, crying intensely yet silently, the sorrow nearly spilling out of the screen.

The real Ran Lin, holding his phone, was moved by the performance, feeling bitter and sour, his eyes becoming hot again; he almost fell in love with that version of himself, completely immersed in the role.

Long after the video had ended, the warmth in Ran Lin’s eyes slowly subsided, and then he clicked on the video comments with great anticipation—

[Beishan’s Blue Cloud: Hahahahahahahahahahaha]

[Eggie18748: Hahahahahahahahahahaha]

[Shepherd Pointing to Putian Village: Hahahahahahahahahahaha]

[Aessle: Hahahahahahahahahahaha]

Holding the knife in his chest, Ran Lin bravely scrolled down, finally seeing a warm comment—

[First Nine Night Sleepless: How can you all laugh at such a touching scene! Doesn’t your conscience hurt? Have you considered Bell’s feelings… No, I can’t hold it in anymore hahahaha…]

Ran Lin felt like he was about to cough up blood.

This lesson taught him to read all comments before getting moved.

However, although every visitor or fan started with a dozen laughs, after the laughter, they still gave positive feedback, even many with surprise and admiration—

[Deputy Commissioner Yabe Kenzo: This is acting. I didn’t even laugh, and I felt a hint of sadness?]

[Yulin Bell: Why did the poster only give full marks? I want to give one hundred and one, the extra point is not for my idol to get proud! Lalala ❤️]

[NanaNANA: Am I the only one scared throughout that the plushie might be revived by ‘true love’s tears’? This acting is simply witchcraft!! 😨]

[Yaozhi Not Snow: I think it’s already difficult not to break character laughing, yet he managed to cry, and the crying was incredibly moving. I’d choose Ran Lin as a director too, no doubt. 👍]

[Lin’s Family Burning Noodles: At the first and second watch, I was laughing, but after the third and fourth watch, I was moved, my heart felt heavy 😔. I liked my idol from the variety show, fell deeply in love because of Fallen Flowers, and now I’m utterly addicted to his acting. Do you understand the feeling of thinking you’re picking up a silver ingot, but inside is gold, diamonds, jade, and emerald 😆. Finally, super looking forward to the movie’s release! Wishing it a blockbuster success!! 🧸 🧸]

[Love Yao For Life: Feelings too complex, don’t know what to say, just sneakily leave a like… 🏃‍♀️]

Nothing is more pleasing than having one’s skills affirmed, and by the end, Ran Lin was already full of energy and fighting spirit, inside and out. Looking back at those laughs, he couldn’t help but grin.

There were passersby enjoying the spectacle, fans spamming support, and analysts seeing through the phenomena—

[This Is a Water Army* User: Am I the only one who thinks releasing Ran Lin’s audition clip at this time is to slap Han Ze’s face? 🐶]

*It refers to a group of internet users who are paid to manipulate public opinion on social media platforms. This manipulation can include positing positive comments to boost the image of a product or person, creating artificial hype or buzz, or posting negative or defamatory content against a competitor.

[Don’t Make Pancakes Spicy: The drama version can hype itself. Why pull the movie version to take the fall, now getting counterblasted all around.]

[Chujiu Month Like Frost: This is Han Ze stirring up his own mess. The drama version’s official Weibo has been silent from the beginning and initially didn’t drag in <Chronicles of Winter> movie. It was all about Han Ze changing agents, then it escalated to the movie vs drama version, Han Ze’s fans claiming Ran Lin got the movie because of agent favoritism, and if not, Han Ze would have been the movie lead, resulting in the movie side being displeased. They first issued a statement, then leaked the audition clip, obviously countering Han Ze’s claims.]

[Iceberg’s White Lotus*: Agree with the analysis in the hot comments. If it was drama version hyping, only a fool would hype “Han Ze missing out on Chronicles of Winter movie”. That would imply the drama version is inferior, right? So, from beginning to end, it was Han Ze’s own doing. Drama version Chronicles of Winter took the hit, and Ran Lin was even more unlucky, stabbed in the back by a fellow company artist. The comments under his Weibo the past few days are unwatchable, all insults.]

*Refers to a person who appears innocent and pure but is actually deceitful and manipulative. This comes from the way the white lotus (on the surface) looks beautiful but is contrasted by the murky environment where its roots lie.

[Han Meimei_Childhood Memory: I just want to ask who is still looking forward to the drama version. I’m ready to wait directly for the movie version. Not to mention the hype, just for Ran Lin’s acting, it’s worth looking forward to. 😎]

[Domestic 001: The drama version’s investors must be crying at home. Out of all the people, they had to pick such a drama queen… 😥]

Exiting the hot searches and returning to his homepage, his private messages were overflowing again.

Although there were still many malicious messages from Han Ze’s fans, encouragement, confessions, and even apologies made up a significant portion.

The internet is the most direct and uninhibited platform. Typing a long message is just a few keystrokes, so people can express freely, whether they hate or praise. People’s emotions always fluctuate with the ever-changing events.

Just as he was about to log off Weibo, Ran Lin inadvertently saw a repost from Gu Jie—

[Instantly became a film emperor 🤣 //@Lu Yiyao: Tang Jingyu doesn’t want to talk and throws a flying knife at you 👋 //@Tang Xiaoyu: You all are late to know. I’ve already experienced the fear of being dominated by his crying scenes in Fallen Flowers. Once he cries, everyone cries 😓 //@Xia Xinran: Hahahahaha //@Xiaogua Watching Movies: <Chronicles of Winter> audition footage leaked. Ran Lin VS Bell, showcasing what true acting is! This crying scene is definitely top-notch, but all I want to do is 🤣 🤣 🤣 🤣 🤣 🤣 🤣 🤣 [Video link]]

Ran Lin watched the whole thing twice, from beginning to end, and felt that he wasn’t looking at a Weibo post but a sweet potato vine. A few digs into the soil, and he pulled out a string of sweet potatoes.

With such a clear direction pointed out, Ran Lin simply browsed the comments under the Weibo posts of these few friends.

Under Xia Xinran and Gu Jie’s posts, the theme was pretty much the same—laughing so unrestrainedly, they must be true friends!

Under Tang Xiaoyu and Lu Yiyao’s posts, the style was more diverse: some expressed admiration for their respective idols, some praised the drama “Falling Flowers”, others envied their friendship, and of course, there were those who were seeing the video for the first time due to their idols’ repost and were praising Ran Lin’s acting.

All in all, it was filled with positive and uplifting energy.

After hesitating for a moment, Ran Lin logged out of his main Weibo account and switched to his alternate account. In the vast sea of comments under Lu Yiyao’s post, he left a heart.

Suddenly, his phone dinged with a drop sound.

Ran Lin jumped, thinking he had been caught snooping with his alternate account, but it turned out to be a message from Lu Yiyao asking if he had finished work for the day.

It was already past eight in the evening.

Today was one of the rare days he had finished early; Ran Lin remembered it was just past six when he returned, and he was surprised that just a few scrolls on Weibo had passed two hours.

He replied, “Finished work. At the hotel,” and immediately, a video call invitation from his lover came through. Ran Lin, thinking he hadn’t eaten dinner yet, answered the call, and to Lu Yiyao, it appeared as if his lover was deep in thought with a serious expression.

“What’s wrong?” Lu Yiyao instinctively worried.

Ran Lin couldn’t very well say he was thinking about what to eat, so he simply said, “I was scrolling through Weibo just now.”

Lu Yiyao, a bit disappointed that he couldn’t be the bearer of good news, was more puzzled. “And you look like that after scrolling?”

“I was thinking…” Ran Lin drew out the word until he saw the curiosity in his lover’s eyes peak, then he let out the rest, “about how good my acting is.”

“…” Lu Yiyao felt incredibly naive for getting his hopes up.

Seeing Lu Yiyao’s exasperated expression, Ran Lin couldn’t help but laugh, finally composing himself to say, “I told you Xi Jie would have a way. I didn’t lie to you.”

“Mm,” Lu Yiyao responded softly.

Although he seemed a bit absent-minded, he was actually quite surprised at how quickly and impressively Wang Xi had turned the situation around.

It wasn’t just about silencing those questioning Ran Lin’s opportunity to star in the movie version; it also managed to boost Ran Lin’s acting credibility and likability, all the while dragging Han Ze into a murky mess. The drama version was set to air on June 3^rd, meaning it would start broadcasting in a little over a week. According to usual practice, widespread promotion was expected, and it was foreseeable how much ridicule Han Ze would face. His botched attempt at hype didn’t just affect him but implicated the entire drama crew. As for the movie version, releasing the audition clip showed a firm stance against Han Ze, and if the movie investors were the vindictive type, Han Ze might as well forget about working with them ever again.

It was killing three birds with one stone—not something every agent could pull off.

Lu Yiyao was mulling over this when he heard the voice from the screen say, “I also saw the Weibo you reposted.”

Lu Yiyao felt embarrassed. “You really did a thorough scroll.”

“Actually, I saw Gu Jie’s first,” Ran Lin confessed, “and then I saw the whole string of your reposts.”

“Yeah, once the video came out, we all helped to repost,” Lu Yiyao said with a hint of jealousy. “You’re quite the heartthrob.”

Ran Lin chuckled. “Are you jealous of friendship too?”

Lu Yiyao shrugged. “Who knows if it’s pure friendship between you guys.”

“The others are thousands of miles away from me. The only one I see every day is Gu Jie.” Ran Lin leaned closer to the screen. “Are you sure you want to question my friendship with Gu Jie?”

“…” Lu Yiyao let his imagination run wild for a moment, then realized it was still all blue skies and fresh air. “Okay, I apologize to him.”

Ran Lin, amused, eventually remembered to ask about his lover’s recent work. “Is filming going smoothly?”

“Pretty smooth,” Lu Yiyao said. “The actors are reliable, and the atmosphere in the crew is good.”

Ran Lin sighed faintly, barely audible. “That’s good.”

Although the sigh was soft, Lu Yiyao still caught it. “What’s wrong? Are things not going smoothly on your end?”

“It’s not exactly rough.” Ran Lin, sitting cross-legged on the bed, placed his phone aside, grabbed a bottle of mineral water from the bedside table, took a big gulp, and then said, “But you know, a new actress joined the crew a few days ago, right? She can’t seem to get a grip on her character, so whenever she’s in a scene, we end up shooting several takes. The director has to explain the scene over and over, and it barely passes, so the filming schedule has slowed down these past few days, and the director is quite anxious.”

Lu Yiyao hadn’t worked with He Guan but had heard of his high demands for actors, so he understood what Ran Lin was saying. Not getting the right feel for a scene meant multiple takes, not just settling for mediocrity like some directors might. But because it was He Guan, Lu Yiyao was puzzled. “How did such an actor join the crew? Didn’t she audition?”

“She did,” Ran Lin said. “But the audition was a bit rushed. The director wasn’t completely satisfied but didn’t find it terrible either, and it was a recommendation from someone they knew, so they probably thought it’d be fine. Plus, she was kind of a last-minute addition; the character was supposed to join at the beginning of the month.”

“I bet He Guan is regretting it now.” Lu Yiyao sighed. “That’s not saving the day, that’s adding chaos.”

“You can’t say that.” Ran Lin, putting aside the acting part, had a relatively positive impression of Qi Luoluo. “She’s not deliberately acting poorly. She’s also anxious with each NG, and her attitude has always been very good, almost apologetic from start to finish, which is quite pitiful.”

“It’s a job.” Lu Yiyao, not knowing Qi Luoluo or even what she looked like, could only look at the matter very calmly and objectively. “A good attitude doesn’t compensate for the loss caused by low work efficiency. If it were me, I’d rather choose an actor who’s difficult and temperamental but gets it right after the clapperboard hits once.”

Ran Lin immediately thought of a former co-star who fit the description. “Xi Ruohan, for instance?”

Lu Yiyao raised an eyebrow. “I mentioned actors, not actresses, so the fact that you immediately mentioned her name makes me think we need to discuss the deeper reasons.”

Ran Lin: “……”

Why are you jealous of a female actress in front of a gay guy!

The “lovers’ video time” that evening didn’t last too long because Ran Lin accidentally let slip that he hadn’t eaten dinner yet. As a result, the strict Teacher Lu ordered him to go eat immediately and ruthlessly ended the video call.

Ran Lin pouted at his suddenly blank phone screen, glanced at the time, and sadly realized it wasn’t even nine o’clock yet.

That meant they had only talked for just over half an hour!

Feeling unsatisfied but helpless, Ran Lin could only pocket his phone, get up, and put on his shoes. Fortunately, he hadn’t changed out of his clothes since he returned to the hotel and started browsing Weibo, so now he just put on his shoes, pulled out his room card, and went out to find something to eat.

……

While Ran Lin went out for dinner, Lu Yiyao picked up the script for tomorrow’s filming, and in the Dream Without Limits office building in Beijing, all areas were dark except for two still brightly lit—the publicity department and the president’s office.

Since the movie version of <Chronicles of Winter> crew’s announcement hit the hot searches at noon, Deng Minru had plunged into the publicity director’s office, discussing PR strategies. By evening, when the audition video was leaked, Wang Xi, who had been preparing to leave work, was summoned into the president’s office.

In fact, when the rumors about Han Ze missing out on the movie version started yesterday, Deng Minru and Wang Xi had both been “invited” for a “heart-to-heart” in the president’s office.

Wang Xi didn’t know what was discussed with Deng Minru, but according to the president, the “heart-to-heart” with Deng Minru involved her being heavily criticized.

While the president’s words might have been exaggerated, the criticism was definite. Regardless of how things had developed, the instigators were Deng Minru and Han Ze. The company might turn a blind eye to some extent, but there’s a limit to what’s acceptable. After all, both Han Ze and Ran Lin are the company’s artists, and they don’t want to lose any of them.

Yesterday, the president’s “heart-to-heart” with Wang Xi mainly focused on “soothing” and repeatedly emphasized taking care of Ran Lin’s emotions, not to let him openly tear into his fellow artists.

After the initial “dissatisfaction,” “injustice,” and “resentment,” Wang Xi was gradually “convinced” by the boss, so the latter half was all about being sensible with “yes, yes, yes” and “okay, okay, okay,” a model employee, to the president’s satisfaction. After letting her go, he focused on crisis PR in the publicity department, hoping to control the direction of public opinion as much as possible and prevent the subtle insinuation about Han Ze missing out on the movie from fermenting.

The effect was naturally limited.

But nothing could compare to today’s double whammy—announcement + audition video.

While Deng Minru was already frazzled in the publicity department, Wang Xi, who had just tidied up her desk to leave, was pulled into the president’s office for the second time.

When she saw the announcement at noon, Wang Xi was surprised by the speed of Shi Jiuting’s action. But when the audition video came out just now, she was genuinely impressed by his tactics.

Only directors typically have actors’ audition videos, and usually, once auditioned, it’s done; no one looks back. Wang Xi had never thought of using the release of the video to quell doubts about Ran Lin’s acting. Shi Jiuting not only thought of it but also managed to boost Ran Lin’s popularity and garner him more fans after successfully vindicating him.

She was impressed by this move. But amidst her surprise, she also anticipated that the president would want to speak with her.

Until yesterday, the development of the situation followed the pattern of “Han Ze hypes—public opinion ferments—fans concentrate their sympathy on the movie vs. drama version casting—viciously attack and slander Ran Lin—public opinion nearly uncontrollable.” So, apart from Deng Minru, who might suspect her involvement without proof, everyone else would see her and Ran Lin as victims.

The president thought the same, hence the talk about already having criticized Deng Minru and the directive to soothe Ran Lin’s feelings.

But with today’s double strike, the president might need to rethink. Suspicion was almost inevitable.

Because when Wang Xi walked into the office, her face was perfectly clueless and flawless.

The president’s expression was grim. As soon as the office door closed, he began accusatorily, “Didn’t I tell you yesterday that this matter should end here, and I’ve already spoken to Minru about it? What’s the meaning of releasing an announcement and a video today?”

Wang Xi looked genuinely bewildered and almost blurted out, “What announcement and video?”

“Don’t play dumb with me…” The president had already decided it was Wang Xi’s doing, as she was known for her resourcefulness. But upon seeing the woman’s genuinely puzzled face, he was slightly taken aback, and even though his words still carried force, they had lost some conviction.

Wang Xi sat down across the president’s desk, looking directly at him without evasion. “What’s going on? Can you please not speak in riddles?”

Dominance in a confrontation is like a game of tug-of-war; once one side gains the upper hand, it’s hard to reverse it.

“The movie version of <Chronicles of Winter> crew released an announcement at noon, stating that the casting was fair and considered, and just now, they released a video of Ran Lin’s audition, clearly targeting Han Ze.” The certainty in the president’s eyes turned to doubt. “You didn’t do it?”

Wang Xi blinked a few times, then, with an innocent sigh, said, “How could I have such influence to command an official production crew? You’re flattering me.” Then, as if realizing something, she mused aloud, “Could it be the movie side got angry because the public opinion wasn’t suppressed and made all these moves?”

The president narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing every slight expression on his employee’s face.

Wang Xi let him look, occasionally showing a flicker of hurt at not being trusted.

After a long while, the president leaned back in his chair and sighed with a headache. “Now that it’s become such a mess, how do we wrap it up?”

“Is it… very serious?” Wang Xi earnestly asked while pulling her phone from her pocket. “Since you instructed me yesterday to leave everything to the publicity department, I haven’t really scrolled through Weibo much. Otherwise, seeing those slandering Ran Lin would make me upset…”

Ultimately, for Ran Lin, this was an unwarranted disaster, so the president momentarily set aside her suspicions and waited patiently for Wang Xi to check for herself. Wang Xi browsed very conscientiously, searching almost every key term related to the issue.

The president observed carefully, gradually easing his doubts. Like Wang Xi said, Dream Without Limits and Ran Lin didn’t have such influence, and it seemed more likely that the movie version had lashed out today because it was dragged into the negative event and wanted to clarify things immediately.

Finally, Wang Xi put down her phone and looked up, but remained silent. The president had to break the silence. “Saw everything?”

Wang Xi sighed and nodded.

It seemed sighs were contagious; the president also sighed lightly and took a sip of her now lukewarm tea.

After pondering for a while, when Wang Xi finally spoke, her eyes were full of a complex mixture of emotions. “I might be speaking after the fact now, but if I were Deng Minru, I wouldn’t have used Ran Lin to stir things up from the start. Both Ran Lin and Han Ze are Dream Without Limits artists—hurting either doesn’t benefit the company. Stirring me up is one thing. I can’t take Han Ze away. It’s his freedom to change agents but involving Ran Lin—that’s just too much. Ran Lin has been diligently working for the company these past years—you know that. He never made any demands on the company, even after ‘Fallen Flowers’ made him popular. He might have been a bit whimsical in choosing scripts, but he still took <The Legend of Lantern Blossoms> because he knows the company made him what he is. He’s grateful…”

Perhaps the president was also tired from worrying over the past few days; he tiredly set down his cup and rarely agreed. “Ran Lin is indeed one of the more worry-free ones.”

“Sometimes I really feel sorry for him.” Wang Xi continued, “Take the instance of Han Ze’s set visit, for example. Ran Lin could have refused it. The movie version had such a big investment, and there was bound to be enough publicity, so there was no need for the actors to create stunts for hype. To put it bluntly, Han Ze’s visit was just to create a topic, to drag him along for the hype, but when I mentioned it, Ran Lin agreed right away because he saw Han Ze as one of his own, and of course, you help your own. But look at what Minru did with the drama version about to air. She brought up the change of agents for Han Ze and even claimed it was because of my partiality in allocating resources. You know my past relationship with Han Ze. Even if I were partial, whom do you think I would favor…”

“The release of the change of agents was explained to me by Minru already. Indeed, it wasn’t related to them,” the president interrupted Wang Xi. “But as the issue heated up, Minru thought instead of being passively hyped, better take charge themselves, even use the opportunity to promote the new drama. No one expected it to develop into this.”

“So, who has Ran Lin offended?” Wang Xi didn’t argue with the president about the origin of the issue; at this point, playing the victim was more effective than arguing over right and wrong. “He was just acting in the drama, and this came out of nowhere.”

Wang Xi’s words made the president feel sorry for Ran Lin as well, so he reiterated his command for Wang Xi to take good care of Ran Lin’s feelings.

It was supposed to be a reprimand, yet it turned into a session filled with guilt and comfort; the president himself couldn’t understand how it happened but felt it was natural. He rubbed his temples, ended the “lecture,” and allowed Wang Xi to leave work.

……

Ran Lin’s audition video circulated on Weibo for about two days, gradually cooling off, and as attention waned, the saga that started with “Han Ze changes agents” finally came to a widely welcomed conclusion after several reversals and face-slappings.

Han Ze’s post “Grateful for the past, looking forward to the unknown future” still hung on Weibo. It was now a sightseeing spot for “face-slapping tours”, with a mix of widespread mockery in the comments alongside those who still declared support and love for him, creating a somewhat absurd scene.

However, Han Ze ultimately couldn’t delete the post; doing so would be an admission of defeat, so he had no choice but to tough it out.

Fortunately, the uproar subsided on May 28^th. The drama version of <Chronicles of Winter> officially released posters and behind-the-scenes footage, sparking the actual pre-broadcast promotion.

Han Ze quickly reposted it, and within a couple of days, his homepage was almost entirely filled with promotional messages for the drama version of <Chronicles of Winter> with the previous implicating post now rarely seen.

With limited investment in the drama version, there wasn’t a grand premiere ceremony, just a launch press conference.

The press conference was in Beijing, but Deng Minru still went to Han Ze’s apartment, picked him up after the stylist had finished his makeup, and then rushed together to the press conference venue.

This was the first meeting between the two since Deng Minru returned to the company to handle the PR crisis with the publicity department.

Without having time to establish any rapport, they were thrown into this mess. Deng Minru was frustrated, especially seeing Han Ze dressed smartly and looking unaffected, which made her even more depressed.

Deng Minru and Wang Xi were quite different. If Wang Xi was openly assertive, then Deng Minru was like a needle hidden in cotton. At first glance, she seemed gentle as water but was actually meticulous and not necessarily easier to deal with than Wang Xi; her methods of showing anger were just different.

“You look good.” Deng Minru smiled at him, but a closer look would reveal that the smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Han Ze wasn’t overly sharp but wasn’t foolish either; a glance was enough to understand the implied meaning, so he returned it with a bitter smile. “For the first airing press conference, I can’t exactly show up looking gloomy.”

“Since you’ve learned your lesson this time, be obedient in the future,” Deng Minru said lightly. “I am your agent and won’t harm you.”

Han Ze lowered his eyes, pondered for a moment, then softly said, “Thank you, Minru Jie.”

Artists being this compliant was a relief for Deng Minru, but she still said, “It would’ve been better if it was like this from the start. The set visit was a good opportunity for publicity. It could’ve been hyped again these days, but now it’s no longer usable. I told you, risky publicity is prone to problems.”

“I’m sorry.” Han Ze wasn’t stingy with apologies.

Deng Minru sighed. “Let it be.”

She also made mistakes in this matter. She didn’t like Wang Xi’s arrogant demeanor, so even though Han Ze’s proposal was risky, she impulsively agreed, thinking it would be good for Wang Xi to face some hardship, but it ended up backfiring on her. Honestly, Wang Xi indeed had some skills.

But Deng Minru couldn’t think highly of an agent who was foolish enough to get romantically involved with their own artist. Moreover, this artist was an ingrate who turned around and told everything to her, implying that it was Wang Xi who pursued him aggressively, and he agreed out of helplessness. Then, once Ran Lin came along, Wang Xi shifted her attention to the new handsome guy.

Deng Minru really wanted to open up Wang Xi’s head to see if it was filled with tofu. However, as much of a scumbag Han Ze might be as a man, as an artist, he was pretty good—good-looking, ambitious, and, in some ways, quite gullible, making him relatively easy to manage.

While Deng Minru was pondering over Han Ze, he was also thinking about her. It wasn’t hard to guess Deng Minru’s feelings towards Wang Xi. His new agent clearly didn’t like Wang Xi, not because of personal or character issues but simply because there isn’t room for two tigers on one mountain. Deng Minru obviously wanted to be the head of the brokerage department, so even if Wang Xi were the embodiment of truth, goodness, and beauty, she wouldn’t like her.

He exploited this fact, so he brought up the publicity stunt proposal. Sabotaging Wang Xi was secondary; he wanted to sabotage Ran Lin. Just as Deng Minru disliked Wang Xi, he also disliked Ran Lin. A company can’t have two heads of the brokerage department, nor two top male stars.

The first airing press conference went smoothly. In the gaps of waiting for Han Ze, Deng Minru already had several whitewashing plans in mind, intending to minimize the negative impact of the previous publicity as quickly as possible.

Whitewashing essentially involves creating a likable public persona and works. This persona can be a warm man, quirky, a foodie, or a fashionista. With the right approach, they can subtly erase much of the previous negative impression, especially with the bonus of good works, doubling the effectiveness.

Creating a persona has many methods and isn’t hard; the challenge lies in finding good works. Without works to back up the persona, whitewashing can never be complete. Only excellent roles are the true foundation for an actor to gain a good reputation.

Deng Minru only hoped that the drama version of <Chronicles of Winter> could bring such a positive effect for Han Ze.

In the backstage lounge, while waiting for the press conference to end, Deng Minru thought about various things, occasionally scrolling through her phone to pass the time. Then, twenty minutes before the press conference was to end, she suddenly saw a combination of Han Ze and another female artist’s name—Han Ze + Cui Yanyan—in the real-time scrolling hot search keywords on Weibo!

Deng Minru’s first reaction wasn’t good. When she clicked directly into the search, her screen was filled with marketing accounts’ posts with exploded comments and share reposts—

[99 Entertainment: Han Ze’s late-night rendezvous with Cui Yanyan! Continuous passionate kissing in the underground parking lot! <Chronicles of Winter> hasn’t aired, but the lead actors have already put on a passionate drama! There are many fairy-tale couples in the entertainment industry that fell in love on set, but before sending blessings, netizens want to ask for the opinion of Cui Yanyan’s official boyfriend, Xiao Tianyu… [Video link] [Read full article]]

Deng Minru was initially petrified in front of her phone, then exploded in anger…

Han Ze had never mentioned such a thing to her. Fine, an artist’s private life is their own, but he should have the brains to know what to do and what not to do, or at least where to do it safely!!!

……

Wang Xi had just come out of the shower and cut up a bowl of cucumber slices for a bit of natural beauty treatment when her phone rang. It was Wu Xia.

“Xi Jie, there’s trouble!” As soon as the call connected, the young girl was frantic.

Wang Xi’s heart sank, and she carelessly put the bowl on the table. “Calm down, tell me slowly, what’s happened?”

Wu Xia: “Han Ze and Cui Yanyan were caught kissing passionately in a parking lot. It’s already trending!”

“…” Wang Xi thought something had happened to Ran Lin, but before she could breathe a sigh of relief, the mention of Cui Yanyan tensed her up again.

She was all too familiar with this female artist, so familiar that just hearing her name brought up the words “old hag” she had once seen in Han Ze’s WeChat. Among the women Han Ze had ambiguous relationships with, Cui Yanyan was the least courteous towards her.

“Xi Jie?” Wu Xia said, puzzled by the silence.

Wang Xi snapped back to reality. “What exactly happened?”

Wu Xia explained, “The video is spreading like wildfire, full of people condemning the dog and the bitch. Xiao Tianyu hasn’t responded yet, but he’s definitely wearing the green hat* now. But…”

*Idiom referring to a man has been cheated on by his wife or girlfriend (basically, he’s been cuckold).

Wang Xi: “But what?”

Wu Xia: “The timing of this video’s release is too coincidental. Today is the premiere press conference for the drama version of <Chronicles of Winter>. With the male and female leads caught in a cheating scandal, will anyone still watch this show?”

Wang Xi was silent for a moment, then asked, “Is there any mention of when the video was taken?”

Wu Xia: “The initial whistleblower’s Weibo post said it was two days ago. Xi Jie, do you think someone’s out to get him?”

“I’ll check Weibo to see what’s happening.” Wang Xi didn’t directly answer, only saying, “Since it’s unrelated to Ran Lin, we don’t have to do anything.”

Wu Xia: “Okay.”

Hanging up the phone, Wang Xi looked down at the bowl of fresh cucumber slices, lost in thought.

Many pieces of information jumbled in her mind, and after a lengthy process of recollection and selection, she recalled a sentence once said by Shi Jiuting—

[But now, foreseeing that the drama version will flop, there’s a strategy for flops just as there is for hits. I would rather it tank completely, making it easier for the movie version to shine by comparison and win acclaim.]

It had been just a week since he said that.

Those words were still ringing in her ears.

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