Chapter 075: Anticipation

Previously, several top-tier celebrities had been vying for the role of spokesperson for the Haohan luxury brand. Though it hadn't escalated to the point where everyone knew about it, at least the fans of these celebrities were well aware and generated considerable buzz over the matter.

However, to everyone’s surprise, when the Haohan luxury brand announced its new spokesperson today on its official website and Weibo account, it turned out to be someone no one had predicted.

Her name was Song Wan. Despite her recent rise in popularity and significant public attention, this couldn’t obscure one simple fact—

Song Wan was still a newcomer, barely emerging on the scene. Thanks to some fortunate opportunities, she had squeezed her way into the ranks of second-tier celebrities, and with the airing of “Upward, Stars!,” she even had a shot at making it to the top tier.

Yet, for now, she remained just a second-tier artist.

In other words, Song Wan’s status was hardly enough to justify representing a luxury brand like Haohan.

The online fandoms erupted instantly, especially the fans of those celebrities who had been confident their idols would snag the Haohan endorsement.

—

“So, they say you’ve got powerful backing—didn’t believe it before, but well, who could doubt it now?”

“How did a second-tier artist like you manage to land this endorsement from Haohan luxury? Oh, silly me—I forgot, you’re known for being a ‘seductive schemer’!”

“So the scandalous persona is never going to crack, is it?”

“As a newcomer, couldn’t you just act honestly and climb up step by step? Barely out the gate, and you’re already snatching up resources everywhere—isn’t your greed a bit too obvious? Second-tier snatching first-tier opportunities, anyone can see what’s going on. It’s laughable, honestly.”

“Agreed, the way she’s grabbing at things is just shameless.”

“Go to hell, you homewrecker!”

“I used to quite like Song Wan, but I can’t stand this anymore... I’m just tired.”

...

Song Wan’s Weibo exploded. Her most recent post—promoting “Upward, Stars!”—saw its comment count skyrocket by hundreds of thousands within half an hour of Haohan’s endorsement announcement.

Despite the apparent public outrage, with Song Wan seemingly walking a tightrope and one misstep threatening to send her whole promising future crashing down, it only took a few minutes for her own fans to snap into action, rolling up their sleeves and joining the fray.

Because Miao Yu, the role that brought Song Wan her recent fame, was somewhat villainous, most of her fans—adults who understood that the world wasn’t simply black and white—were well aware that celebrities often pay for their fans’ behavior. Many had suffered similar situations while following other stars and had learned to be cautious.

Even the younger fans drawn in by variety shows and magazine features were a minority and were quickly soothed by the more experienced adult fans, preventing rash online outbursts.

Her fans didn’t blindly follow the crowd, but instead, confronted every snide commenter head-on—

“So what if our Song Ye really has connections? If you’re so sure, then say who’s behind her! Or are you afraid President Jin will teach you a lesson in ‘tough love’?”

“Ha! So what if our Song Ye is still only second-tier? Did she eat your rice or spend your money? She’s got the ability to land the endorsement, and your idol didn’t—jealous much?”

“How do you know Song Ye isn’t climbing the ranks honestly? With the biggest backer in all of Jiuzhou, why would she need to cozy up to anyone else? Isn’t that a joke? With President Jin supporting her, what’s so impossible about getting first-tier resources? Even if she told me tomorrow she’d landed something even bigger, I wouldn’t be surprised. When you’ve got backing, you can be this willful!”

“You see the world as you are—so, hello there, homewrecker, and goodbye!”

“Ha! Song Ye doesn’t need your approval. If you want to leave, just go. No need to act like your attention is some kind of gift.”

“Yes, please leave quietly!”

...

Thus began an all-out online war: Song Wan’s fans, the fans of other celebrities, the opportunists, and the paid internet trolls all clashed in a cacophony of arguments.

Yet Song Wan herself was completely unaware.

Because of the previous uproar during “Upward, Stars!” promotion, Zhao Qing had “forbidden” her from using the internet.

To be extra cautious and ensure a quiet filming environment, Zhao Qing had gone so far as to sequester the entire cast and crew at a closed-off location—no news from the outside world could get in, not even to the other crew members.

Song Wan blinked. Classic Zhao Qing!

She recalled that during a past film shoot with Zhao Qing, she’d only played a minor role, but when a major actor had an accident, the entire cast had been cut off from the internet as well—back then, she was just dragged along by circumstance; now, she was the cause of it.

She had to admit, the reversal was rather novel.

Zhao Meng had just finished a scene. After countless retakes under Zhao Qing’s relentless perfectionism, she collapsed, exhausted, into a chair.

Hearing Song Wan chuckle, Zhao Meng glanced over, curious. “Did you see something funny?”

Song Wan looked briefly surprised, then shook her head with a smile. “No, I was just thinking of something from the past.”

Their interactions were awkward—they only forced themselves to maintain the “best girlfriends” image in front of Zhao Qing, suppressing their mutual aversion for the sake of appearances.

But there was no need for excessive conversation. After exchanging a few polite words, they both fell silent.

Zhao Meng closed her eyes to rest, while Song Wan picked up her script.

The next scene involved Zhao Ke taking Qin Yao to a fashion show to “broaden her horizons.” Though Qin Yao had transformed her appearance, her deeply ingrained “rustic” manner still provoked the disdain of some of Zhao Ke’s rivals.

Qin Yao was accustomed to such treatment, but this time, her “lack of class” brought humiliation upon Zhao Ke, who had always been the golden child. Zhao Ke herself wasn’t bothered, but Qin Yao perceived it as a stain on Zhao Ke’s otherwise stellar reputation—feeling that her presence was an indelible blemish if she shamelessly continued as Zhao Ke’s friend.

These were words voiced by jealous classmates at school—Zhao Ke didn’t care, and Qin Yao pretended not to, but in moments like these, she realized she truly, deeply cared.

Her inferiority complex and concern for Zhao Ke drove her to leave the show early.

When Zhao Ke returned from the runway and couldn’t find Qin Yao, she nearly panicked, searching the entire venue and arguing fiercely with models who’d been unkind to Qin Yao. If not for her manager’s skill, she might have been blacklisted by the brand on the spot.

Only when she finally thought to call Qin Yao’s boyfriend at school did she learn that Qin Yao had already returned.

They had a heated argument.

Eventually, Qin Yao confessed her feelings of inadequacy, and Zhao Ke reassured her, even beginning to train Qin Yao’s posture and presence, helping her transform from the inside out.

Both realized that unless Qin Yao truly let go of her insecurities, she would soon be left behind.

Friendship requires mutual growth—if one moves forward and the other stands still or retreats, the bond cannot last.

Yet both cherished the friendship and refused to let go. One taught with all her heart, the other learned with all her might.

The following scene would be set on the runway.

Sun Xia, script in hand, sat down beside Song Wan. “Ready for the next scene?”

Song Wan smiled back. “Of course. And you?”

Sun Xia raised an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

They both burst out laughing at the same moment.

Nearby, Zhao Meng gripped her script tightly, forcing a smile as she endured the palpable camaraderie between the two—so natural that no one else could intrude.

These two were the true “best friends,” both on and off the set.

The initial awkwardness of being co-leads had long since faded, replaced by mutual admiration for each other’s acting skills and a genuine friendship.

All Zhao Meng could do was watch, envious. Jealous as she was, there was nothing she could do to change it—

From the start, Sun Xia had shown clear disinterest in her, and her history with Song Wan was already fraught. She had no way to improve matters, unless her acting suddenly improved by leaps and bounds.

She knew that was impossible.

“Sun Xia, Song Wan, ready for the next take!”

—

While Song Wan filmed quietly, oblivious to the storm outside, others monitored the situation online, some nearly jumping in themselves.

Fortunately, Wu Yi stopped them. “President Jin, Gao Xiang has already stepped in. Song Wan’s situation is improving. If you post on Weibo now, you’ll only stir things up again.”

Wu Yi wiped cold sweat from his brow. If Gao Xiang hadn’t warned him in advance to keep President Jin out of the fray, heaven knows how many posts President Jin would have fired off by now.

President Jin stared at Wu Yi in silence, his gaze intense and unyielding.

Wu Yi felt the pressure mount. “President Jin, could you not look at me like that? I’m timid,” he pleaded inwardly, feeling as though a shadow had swept over his heart.

Jin Youqian was unmoved. “You seem very bold to me—daring to meddle in your superior’s affairs, even giving him commands. Not timid at all.”

Wu Yi: “…QAQ Please, President Jin, have mercy!”

“But President Jin, before, you posted on Weibo to lure Miss Song to you,” Wu Yi ventured cautiously, glancing at Jin Youqian. “But Miss Song has already agreed to marry you. If you cause trouble now, won’t she blame you when she finishes filming?”

Jin Youqian paused, eyes narrowing. “Are you threatening me?”

“Absolutely not, President Jin! I wouldn’t dare!” Wu Yi’s knees nearly buckled in fear.

Threatening his boss? Did he have a death wish?

Luckily, Jin Youqian let the matter drop, turning his gaze away without further comment.

“Was it Gao Xiang who told you to stop me from posting?” Jin Youqian asked, his tone cool as he looked at his phone.

Wu Yi’s scalp prickled. He realized that if his answer displeased President Jin, life would be difficult. Determined to protect himself, he nodded vigorously. “Yes, Gao Xiang said she’d handle this minor issue quickly. There’s no need for you to muddy the waters and make things harder to resolve.”

Jin Youqian’s gaze was icy. “Tell Gao Xiang that if she doesn’t achieve the outcome I expect, she can forget about her year-end bonus.”

Gao Xiang had been poached from Imperial Capital Entertainment at great cost, and she owned a significant share of the company’s stock. Her annual bonus was a staggering sum.

If it were withheld, even someone as composed and shrewd as Gao Xiang would surely be left in tears.

Why did he find that prospect oddly satisfying? Wu Yi swallowed hard.

—

Gao Xiang’s face darkened as she listened to Wu Yi’s businesslike tone over the phone. “So after all that, what exactly is President Jin’s expected outcome? What do I need to achieve to meet his expectations?”

Wu Yi was at a loss. “I have no idea.”

“Could you at least relay messages clearly? Are you trying to mess with me?”

“You’re not my dad!”

“….” Gao Xiang was silent for a moment before abruptly hanging up.

Damn it!