Chapter Nineteen: The Director Who Shipped the Wrong Couple

The matter was resolved, yet not truly resolved. Watching the director’s expression from afar, Bai Chenxi’s nerves were frayed. Her own scandal had dominated the headlines for a whole day; the one with Lan Tian was forgivable—it had at least boosted the drama’s popularity. But now another rumor had surfaced, this time with someone else, and reporters were already waiting outside the set for interviews. It was no wonder the director looked so displeased.

In the distance, Xiaoyu was distributing drinks to the crew. Bai Chenxi took a cup and handed it to the director. “Director, I’m sorry for all the trouble,” she said, bowing deeply.

The director was clearly surprised by Bai Chenxi’s gesture. He took the drink and waved his hand dismissively. “Alright, alright, don’t make such a fuss. Anyone watching might think I scolded you!”

He wasn’t truly angry. Those reporters were annoying, but it wasn’t anything serious. Still, he felt a pang of disappointment: the pairing he’d been rooting for was apparently doomed.

He’d thought he had a discerning eye, having spotted what seemed to be a secret romance between two young actors. Their interactions always appeared affectionate, and now, seeing them, he felt a lump in his throat, as if the sweetness he’d witnessed was nothing but shards of glass.

The assistant director, meanwhile, couldn’t stop chattering beside him. “That girl has dominated the trending topics today—she’s all over the headlines. Who would’ve thought she was the one dining with Chu Muyun? We searched for ages and never found her.”

“Hasn’t it all been clarified?” the director asked.

The assistant director, ever the gossip, didn’t notice the director’s sour mood and continued, “Who believes clarifications nowadays? Chu Muyun hasn’t said a word. If you ask me, there’s definitely more to their relationship.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do? Go do your work and stop gossiping,” the director snapped.

The assistant director was baffled; he’d often gossiped with the director before. Maybe the heat was making tempers flare.

The director’s irritation only grew as he glanced at Lan Tian, who was laughing carelessly in the distance. Still laughing! Why couldn’t he show some backbone? Filming together every day, yet someone else managed to steal the show.

Lan Tian, feeling the director’s fierce gaze, shivered and glanced around, finding nothing amiss.

The impact of the rumors wasn’t limited to just a few people. Lin Yue, fresh off a scene, felt many eyes focus on him. This film was a major production; he played the fourth male lead, with A-list actors and director. He’d come to learn, quietly blending into the background, never expecting to attract so much attention.

His assistant quickly solved the mystery. Hesitantly, the assistant approached with a phone. “Brother, have you seen today’s news?”

“What’s happened?” Lin Yue asked.

The assistant handed him the phone. “Better you see for yourself.”

The assistant wasn’t sure about the nature of the relationship; though Lin Yue claimed not to be romantically involved with Bai Chenxi, their closeness was undeniable—there was probably something going on. With this news, the assistant feared Lin Yue might storm off in anger and resolved to keep an eye on him.

He watched Lin Yue’s expression carefully: the tightly furrowed brows spelled trouble. Poor Lin Yue must be terribly upset; he’d have to pay more attention to him in the coming days.

“Xiao Wen, I’m going to rest. Call me when it’s time to shoot,” Lin Yue said, walking off hurriedly with his phone.

“Got it, brother. Rest well!” The assistant called after him. Poor guy—he must be going off to nurse his wounds alone.

“Oh! Isn’t this our young master Lin? Why are you calling in the middle of the day? Aren’t you supposed to be filming?” Bai Chenxi was surprised to see Lin Yue’s call.

“My rumored girlfriend has run off with someone else. Don’t I deserve a phone call?” Lin Yue teased, his tone laced with barely contained delight.

Bai Chenxi was unfazed. “Even you know about it? The power of gossip is truly formidable.”

“Oho, listen to that tone. Impressive! The iron tree that hadn’t bloomed for ages suddenly sprouted two flowers.”

“As if you can talk!” She didn’t expect anything good to come from Lin Yue’s mouth.

Lin Yue didn’t mind; he’d called just to gossip. “How did you meet Chu Muyun? He’s a flower on a distant peak. How far have you two gotten?”

“Why don’t you ask about Lan Tian?”

“Oh, please. Anyone can see you two are like buddies. No spark there.”

“So you think something’s going on with Chu Muyun?”

“Absolutely,” Lin Yue replied readily. “That video of you two was electric—sparks flying everywhere.”

Bai Chenxi nearly rolled her eyes. “Brother, I was bundled up so tightly. How could you see any sparks?”

“That’s where you don’t understand. It’s a mystical art,” Lin Yue said, clearing his throat with mock seriousness. “There’s a saying: ‘When you like someone, even if you cover your mouth, it leaks out through your eyes.’ Haven’t you noticed your tone changes every time you mention him?”

Bai Chenxi was quick to retort, “Where? If there’s a difference, it’s probably annoyance.”

“Hard-headed as ever!” Lin Yue thought, having known her so long, he understood her well.

“I’m not talking to you anymore. Time for my scene. Hanging up,” Bai Chenxi said, quickly ending the call and letting out a quiet sigh.

Honestly, what nonsense! How could I possibly like him? Sure, he fits my aesthetic type, but every encounter is so unpleasant—how could I like him? It’s laughable.

“Chenxi, Chenxi,” Xiaoyu called several times before Bai Chenxi snapped out of her thoughts.

“Huh? What is it, Xiaoyu?”

“I’ve handed out all the drinks.”

“Thank you for your hard work. I don’t have anything else for you—go rest for a bit.”

But Xiaoyu didn’t leave; instead, she reached out to feel Bai Chenxi’s forehead.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re not running a fever.”

“Of course I’m not…” Bai Chenxi was about to say she’d know if she were feverish.

Then Xiaoyu added, “But your face is really red right now.” She especially emphasized the word “really.”

After a busy day, Bai Chenxi returned to the hotel, with Xiaoyu following her in.

“Xiaoyu, go home and rest!”

“No way. Sister Wang told me to keep an eye on you so you don’t sneak off again.”

Bai Chenxi slapped her forehead; she’d forgotten all about that. Today had been truly surreal.

No matter how much Bai Chenxi tried to persuade her, promising again and again not to go out, Xiaoyu wouldn’t budge. Besides being quiet, Xiaoyu’s greatest trait was stubbornness. Wang Ling had said she admired that resilience in Xiaoyu.

Back in her room, Bai Chenxi decided to use her alternate account to check Weibo, only to find it flooded with posts about herself. Despite the clarifications, heated arguments continued in the comments.

The more she scrolled, the more annoyed she became, and was about to log out when she saw Chu Muyun had posted.

Chu Muyun V: Come back, everyone! Stop arguing.

Bai Chenxi kept refreshing to verify the authenticity of the post. Was he speaking up for her? She recalled Lin Yue’s words, and her cheeks grew warm.

Feeling her face flush, Bai Chenxi patted it to clear her head. What am I thinking? How could I like him? Impossible. Lin Yue must have brainwashed me.

“Yes! That must be it. All Lin Yue’s fault,” she muttered, convincing herself.

[Oh my God! Look what I just saw—my idol posted on Weibo.]
[Alright, listening to hubby. Back to being a good little fairy.]
[Is this for bcx?]
[Can I say kdl?]
[Some fans upstairs—stop self-indulging, you’re everywhere.]

Just as the fans were about to start arguing, they all stopped, remembering their idol had just asked them not to fight. It would look bad to be quarreling under his post.

[Sisters, focus on our own fandom. Our idol never likes us to argue with others. He didn’t mean anything else.]
[Listen to our idol, focus on ourselves, no fighting.]
[Listen to hubby, focus on ourselves, no fighting.]
[Listen to big brother, focus on ourselves, no fighting.]
[Since you all say so, I’ll just say: listen to son, focus on ourselves, no fighting. Go, son, mom loves you.]

In no time, Chu Muyun’s comment section was harmonious. Bai Chenxi couldn’t help but marvel at the fans’ ability to switch faces—fierce debaters elsewhere, gentle fairies under their idol’s posts.

Bai Chenxi shook her head. I could never manage that!

The fans had stopped making trouble, but the marketing accounts that thrived on gossip didn’t rest. That night, they spun all sorts of theories and spammed the feeds, sending the two back up the trending list. However, since both fandoms deliberately ignored the commotion, the topic slowly fell off the charts as the night wore on.