After Being Marked by the Top Celebrity Childhood Friend [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 9

I Found You

“Has Que Man married today: Day 1460, No.”

Lin Que tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and pointed to her own chest. “‘Que’ should be me. May I ask who ‘Man’ is?”

“One thousand four hundred and sixty days,” Lin Que paused.

Lu Ling, being extremely “considerate,” handed over the answer: “Counting from the day you debuted. Four years—exactly four years.”

Lin Que nodded in sudden realization, then asked with a cold expression, “So, who is my bride whom I’ve never actually met?”

Lu Ling’s eyes sparkled as she answered obediently, “Chu Man.”

Lin Que narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms and tapping her right hand. “Her, huh.”

“An unholy CP.”

Chu Man had debuted as a child star. At eight years old, her performance in the movie The Orphan made her the youngest Best Actress winner. By the time she returned from sweeping awards ceremonies home and abroad, she was only twenty-five.

However, she hadn’t appeared in a film or television drama for nearly five years. The reason given was: “When bad movies, bad scripts, and bad actors are rampant, what good could possibly be produced?”

“Bad movies, bad scripts, bad actors”—it was almost a precise summary of Lin Que’s acting career.

When Chu Man made that statement, it coincided perfectly with the release of Lin Que’s new drama—adding yet another meaningless, low-rated flop to Lin Que’s messy career.

Naturally, those words were interpreted as a “highly respected veteran artist” mocking a “representative figure of the entertainment industry’s chaos.”

Chu Man herself had never issued any response.

Aside from that, the two had no intersection whatsoever.

Lin Que and Chu Man truly had never met; their connection relied entirely on netizens pulling strings—one black string of hate, one red string of fate.

“Why?” Lin Que looked at this “red string,” feeling for the first time that she couldn’t keep up with the world’s pace.

“Shipping a CP is about a feeling,” Lu Ling said, pushing her glasses up her nose like an old professor. “It’s best if the real people interact, but if they don’t, it doesn’t matter. Not knowing each other is actually even better—humanity’s infinite imagination for love stems from the unknown.”

“Ah…”

Lin Que still didn’t quite understand, but she didn’t lose anything by it. If anyone should feel disgusted, it would likely be Chu Man.

Respect, understanding, love, and peace.

However, as she glanced at Lu Ling’s excited eyes and thought for a moment, realizing what she meant by “turning things around,” Lin Que’s eyes couldn’t help but darken.

“Since it’s a misunderstanding, we can just clear it up.”

Lu Ling said, “I read through all the posts from this bot. At first, the comments were like mine, thinking this account was bizarre. But as the dates get closer to the present, there are actually people sincerely shipping it and even creating fan content—despite the fact you’ve never met, and Chu Man seemingly has a misunderstanding about you.”

“Even though a lot of time has passed, if you and Chu Man can clear up the misunderstanding and she can post a clarification saying the person she was criticizing back then wasn’t you, your reputation will definitely recover. That way, the company will have more leverage when talking to production crews—”

Before Lu Ling could finish, Lin Que interrupted directly: “And then, my suspended work can resume, and all my negative news can vanish into thin air?”

“I can’t guarantee it, but if it actually happens, there’s a possibility,” Lu Ling observed Lin Que’s expression, her voice becoming increasingly uncertain. “Right?”

Lin Que narrowed her eyes, then looked away, letting out a soft, downcast laugh. “How could that be possible.”

Lu Ling froze, her mouth moving faster than her brain. “Why?”

“Because I am Lin Que.”

Lin Que pointed at herself, looking at Lu Ling with indifferent eyes. “I am the woman with ‘influence that reaches the heavens,’ with an ‘unspeakable sugar daddy’ behind me. Among the people associated with me, if anyone says a good word, they’ve either been paid or forced into it. Even if we step back ten thousand paces and say Chu Man helps me, the only result will be her own reputation taking a hit. Does she not know that? Why would she bother?”

“Back then, that post stayed on the trending searches for a long time. She could see it, her staff could see it, but they never communicated with me or my manager. That means her post was indeed about me, though I don’t know when I ever offended this senior.”

“On that basis, how am I supposed to go ‘clear up the misunderstanding’ with her?”

Prejudice already existed.

“If I go to her to resolve this so-called misunderstanding, wouldn’t that just be admitting to those things?”

“How is that admitting to it?” Lu Ling didn’t understand, her volume rising involuntarily.

Silence.

Lin Que stopped talking.

Lu Ling realized— “I didn’t say you were a bad actor…”

“Does that matter?”

Lin Que exhaled and shook her head, her voice very soft. “That doesn’t matter at all, Youyou.”

Lu Ling’s shoulders shrunk for a moment, then slumped completely.

In the rented apartment, the sun was absent for half the day. Tiny dust motes drifted cautiously through the air.

Lin Que’s biggest controversy happened when she first debuted and won the Newcomer Award for a film. The day after the awards ceremony, a video from backstage was leaked.

In the video, there were two people wearing black jackets. One was sitting with her legs crossed, while the other was kneeling humiliatingly in front of her.

In the three-minute video, the faces of the two leads were never captured. The evidence identifying the bully as Lin Que was: the bully’s black jacket and earrings were nearly identical to Lin Que’s airport photos from that day.

Afterward, someone posted a work ID, claiming to have witnessed the entirety of Lin Que’s bullying.

Lin Que refused to apologize. After releasing a clarification statement, she never responded again.

This attitude earned her the label of “arrogant.”

Lu Ling couldn’t judge this.

She wasn’t the person involved, nor was she a bystander.

She didn’t know the truth.

But she knew the truth about the current situation.

She knew clearly that Lin Que was innocent.

But all the negative words had become bound to Lin Que, so much so that most people had forgotten that in this matter, Lin Que’s identity was that of the victim.

Discussing the facts had become a paradox.

A few people holding the megaphone used fabricated stains to mold a “perfect sinner,” allowing those outside the wall to vent their “evil” without any burden of conscience.

“—You’re thinking too simplistically, Youyou.”

Lu Ling’s shoulders swayed, her ears ringing. The “string” supporting her suddenly snapped.

Lin Que noticed something was wrong and straightened up. Before she could touch Lu Ling—Bang!

“I think this is unfair.”

Inside the training camp, the moon hung high in the night sky, sliced into small pieces by the lush branches of the sycamore trees. It peered curiously through the small window at everything happening inside:

Lu Ling held her guitar, standing in front of everyone, staring straight at the program director.

At that time, she didn’t know she was burying the world she believed in: “If you’ve already decided who the winner is, then what is the point of holding this competition? Did you trick us into coming here just to be a free audience?”

Silence. The director looked at her with a complex gaze.

Lu Ling thought then that the other person was speechless with shame because she had exposed the truth. Looking back now, that look was actually how one looks at a fool.

“—Do you think you’re the only one who knows about this?”

Lu Ling looked at the person who broke the ice and was momentarily stunned.

Chu Xiao. The genius diva who debuted at sixteen and was still the most powerful female soloist in the music industry.

Tracing back to when she was fifteen, she and Lu Ling were in an empty classroom at school, writing the final note of the debut song for ROSE & GUN together, clicking the mouse and pressing the publish button.

“It’s not exactly free. At least, you and your teammates aren’t.”

The Chu Xiao in her memory was so foreign compared to the person standing before her as a mentor that it made her feel as if the memories of being fifteen were just a hallucination.

Chu Xiao looked at her, calmly—or rather, condescendingly.

“Lu Ling, you know, this trait of yours is actually particularly annoying. Why do you think what you believe must be right? The meaning of a competition isn’t just to get first place. Look at these people behind you; most of them started playing music much earlier than you or me, but do you even know all of them?”

“Why do you think you are the righteous one, that everything you do is right? And why do you think you can save anyone? You can’t even save yourself.”

“Lu Ling, the reason for your anger isn’t injustice; it’s dissatisfaction. Dissatisfaction that you weren’t the one chosen internally.”

Lu Ling’s lips parted, but she didn’t say a single word in rebuttal.

Whether Chu Xiao’s words were correct no longer mattered.

As if swallowed by a wave, the seawater submerging her was bone-chillingly cold.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to argue, but that she had lost the ability to.

—Lin Que was right.

It was she who had made the same mistake again, playing the part of the self-righteous “good person.”

She was good at playing the “good person.”

It earned her a good reputation and friends.

Lin Que was the opposite.

She was cold; her most frequent word was “no.”

But she never lacked people who actively walked toward her.

They did, and so did she.

Consequently, Lu Ling hated herself even more.

Correspondingly, she hated Lin Que more too—a difficult-to-describe feeling of being abandoned.

—”Lu Ling.”

Ten-year-old Lu Ling sat in her seat. Her pen tip paused as she looked up. Lin Que was walking toward her.

“Let’s go together.”

She froze, instinctively looking at the “friends” around her.

Lin Que grabbed her hand, reclaiming her gaze: “Do you want to be with me?”

“Yes.”

Lu Ling nodded.

The next second, Lin Que grabbed her wrist, and the two of them ran out of the classroom—

“Those people are so noisy.”

Lu Ling looked at her, the truth pouring out: “I don’t like them either.”

“They are annoying to death!”

They were annoying to death.

Lu Ling exhaled. Cars came and went at the intersection; the crowd was congested.

It was too embarrassing.

It had only happened a few minutes ago, yet now, walking on the street, Lu Ling couldn’t understand her motivation for saying those foolish things.

The core idea of that nonsense she spoke… was compromise?

Why should Lin Que compromise?

Because of so-called “rules”?

Lin Que wouldn’t be trapped by those things.

If even Lin Que were trapped by them, then what about her?

How was she supposed to stand her ground in this so-called real world?

Across the road, the signal light turned green again.

Unfamiliar voices surged from all directions. Behind her, the new buds on the old tree branches gazed cautiously at the sun.

“Youyou.”

—Ding.

Lu Ling’s wrist was circled.

She turned back and crashed into Lin Que’s eyes.

“…I’m a bit strange. When I’m in a bad mood, I like to run to crowded places.”

“Fantasizing that they will say one after another, ‘Where is she?’ ‘Lu Ling is missing’…”

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, the light and shadow swaying. Two shadows overlapped across time—

“I found you.”