After Binding the Face-Slapping System, I Rose to Fame [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 1

“Number 168, Chu Jinzhi?”

Chu Jinzhi took a deep breath, swallowed back her rising irritation, and forced a polite smile. “Yes. Hello, Director Zhang, I’m No. 168—Chu Jinzhi.”

The casting director, who had been asking pointless questions with obvious disinterest a moment earlier, suddenly snorted with laughter. Sitting in the center, he leaned back, rubbing his June-pregnant-belly-like paunch, his cloudy eyes sweeping over her from head to toe. His tone oozed sleazy amusement, “No need to emphasize it so hard—who wouldn’t recognize you? The national red rose who used to be blindingly popular, right? Hahaha. Relax, don’t be so nervous.

Everyone here is friendly. Just pretend you’re at home.”

The two people beside him joined in the laughter. One look was all it took for Chu Jinzhi to understand—this so-called audition was nothing but them toying with her.

Sure enough, after they’d laughed their fill and chatted nonsense for a bit, she didn’t even get a chance to perform. All she received was a perfunctory: “Go home and wait for the notice.”

Chu Jinzhi held her breath, silently reciting her manager Sister Lin’s advice on a loop. She managed not to explode then and there, and left the room with a rigid, overly polite smile.

But the moment she got into the car, she opened the trending list—only to see a fresh round of slander claiming she’d shown terrible acting and diva behavior at the audition.

Sister Lin’s call came immediately after.

“I told you ahead of time to rein in that temper of yours! How did you still end up acting like a diva?”

Lying on the sofa, Chu Jinzhi rolled her eyes. “If I had really acted like a diva, why isn’t there a video?”

Sister Lin fell silent, then sighed deeply. “Jinzhi, the company executives talked to me again today. They still mean the same thing—black publicity is still publicity. Better than you being shoved into the top twenty trends with barely two thousand comments and retweets.”

With numbers like that, calling her “washed-up” was practically a compliment.

It was infuriating—but reality was reality. Even drama crews wanting to use her for hype had become rare; today’s audition was the only one in half a year. And judging by the aftermath, no crew would bother trying again.

She hung up, closed her eyes, folded her hands over her stomach, and lay flat on the sofa like a peaceful salted fish. For one brief moment, she genuinely considered quitting the industry and going home to raise cows.

But a heartbeat later, that bastard’s cocky face popped back up, accompanied by a brutally clear recording: “Chu Jinzhi, if you don’t get naked and lie down for me tonight, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“‘National red rose’? You really think you’re something? Let me tell you—goods like you are only good for playing around. Not even qualified to be a side chick.”

Chu Jinzhi’s eyes snapped open, fire blazing in her clear black irises. She regretted not slapping him harder that night—only knocking both him and his chair over backward wasn’t enough. Why hadn’t she slapped him ten meters across the room?

But first.

“System, turn off the sound effects!”

All it ever did was replay the bits that poked right at her sore spots. No wonder it was called the Face-Slapping System. Truly begging for a beating.

The system immediately muted the audio and began its daily persuasion routine.

“Host, as long as you agree to activate the face-slapping missions, avenging your humiliation will be a matter of minutes! And honestly, being slapped by one person is better than getting trampled by the entire internet. Keep going like this and anyone online will be able to stomp on your beautiful head for fun.”

Chu Jinzhi’s eyes wavered—clearly shaken by today’s disaster. Her determination to refuse was beginning to crumble.

The system pressed harder.

“Complete the face-slapping missions, and you’ll get unlimited audition opportunities with top directors! Netizens mocking your acting? You’ll get one-on-one coaching from interstellar performance masters!”

“Paparazzi spreading rumors about your looks collapsing? Have a stamina pill—no acne, no fatigue, even after binge-watching dramas while eating spicy snacks! Your variety-show debut that still tops the annual Comedy Human Awards?

Try our Featherlight Pill—do 360-degree spins mid-air like a floating snowflake!”

“Oppressive capitalists blocking you? We offer a daily blackmail package delivered straight to your door! And more exclusive items await you in the Face-Slapping System Shop!”

Chu Jinzhi’s expression shifted rapidly. But when she heard the part about “a daily blackmail package for evil capitalists,” her heart thumped hard with temptation.

She still didn’t understand why the system insisted she seek out a rookie named Lin Shuyu to get slapped by—but if getting slapped by one person allowed her to turn around and slap the entire internet?

That was a bargain.

Chu Jinzhi smacked her thigh and grit her teeth. “Fine! I’m in!”

If she was going to do it, she might as well enjoy it. She’d entered the entertainment industry hazy and confused, but face-slapping? She could figure that out with a few online searches.

First step: learn everything about this supposed walking gold mine, Lin Shuyu.

The system happily handled it all, gathering every scrap of information online and dumping it into Chu Jinzhi’s phone.

Soon, Chu Jinzhi went from “endure humiliation to accomplish great things” to “openly marveling with zero shame.”

Setting her phone down, she couldn’t help but mutter with genuine admiration:

“A beauty genius who’s been perfect since childhood? This is straight-up Mary Sue incarnate. If you’d told me she was like this, I would’ve agreed ages ago!”

As someone who had been a hopeless underachiever her whole life—practically born a “study-slacker”—Chu Jinzhi was long accustomed to being trampled under the heels of the straight-A elite. At this moment, Lin Shuyu’s brilliance was so blinding it actually made Chu Jinzhi feel honored to be slapped in the face by her.

The Face-Slapping System fell silent for a moment, almost wanting to say: I really didn’t expect you to be this kind of person.

How old was she now? And she still had lingering academic-superiority worship? Wasn’t she supposed to leave behind the innocent naïveté of the ivory tower the second she became a wage-earning corporate cog focused on chasing money?

“This is insanely impressive,” Chu Jinzhi muttered, flipping her phone back and forth in awe. Then, with a delighted flick of her elegant orchid fingers, she decisively logged into her alt Weibo account and followed Lin Shuyu—who currently had only a few thousand fans.

According to the data provided by the system, Lin Shuyu was still virtually unknown in the entertainment industry, a complete nobody. But her first film would be hitting theaters during next month’s Golden Week—and it would be both a critical and commercial hit, single-handedly breaking the box office slump that had dragged on since the New Year. Her rise to fame would even surpass Chu Jinzhi’s meteoric breakout three years ago.

“Talented people shine no matter where they go.” Brimming with the conviction that the world held light and love, Chu Jinzhi felt a surge of energy rush through her. She suddenly wanted to clock in and start working right now.

“So, tell me—does the degree of face-slapping matter? If not, I could just run up to Lin Shuyu and loudly swear she definitely didn’t brush her teeth this morning. Wouldn’t that guarantee a perfect, 100% face-slap?”

The system had appeared a week ago and was used to this host fiercely defending her dignity no matter what. To see her transform so quickly left it oddly dazed, as if reality had blurred for a second.

The rules were simple: “The energy generated from a face-slap corresponds to the points you earn. The more people witness you getting slapped in the face—and the stronger their emotional reaction—the more points the system rewards you.”

Chu Jinzhi had wanted to browse the points shop to check the price of the “Daily Blackmail One Capitalist” item. Unfortunately, the system instantly launched the mission-boot program and only afterward informed her that the shop would remain locked until she completed her first face-slapping task.

Chu Jinzhi: “……”

Why did she suddenly feel like she’d been scammed into spending money and now had to worry about the nonexistent after-sales service?

“Fine.”

It was already activated anyway. And since there was no punishment for failure, she might as well treat this like a large-scale public humiliation game.

Chu Jinzhi called her agent. “Sister Lin, I’ve thought about it. Being infamously black-and-red actually isn’t terrible. But I don’t want to overdo it. I consulted a professional and they gave a brilliant suggestion. Want me to tell you?”

Agent Lin, drowning in work at the agency: “……”

She wasted five full minutes listening to her artist enthusiastically describe a “professional strategy”: find a newly rising celebrity with great public favor, set her up as a rival, and then every time the newcomer made a move, immediately jump out to roast, mock, and leech traffic—striving to become the prettiest “cling-to-their-body forever” dog-skin plaster in the industry.

After ten long seconds of silence, Sister Lin finally spoke, her voice strained:

“Has it occurred to you that this ‘professional’ you consulted might actually be one of your veteran anti-fans?”

Naturally, the idiotic plan was rejected on the spot. Chu Jinzhi was even ordered to stay home and reflect for three days.

“Recently, our company has gotten in with Dolphin Media and is planning to squeeze into a major new variety show. I’ll try to secure you a spot. Don’t you dare cause trouble.”

Chu Jinzhi muttered, “I learned causing trouble from you. You’re my industry mentor, remember?”

Sister Lin’s red lips parted, and she issued one concise, crystal-clear command:

“Get. Out.”

Chu Jinzhi: “Okay!”