After Redeeming the Female Lead, I Faked My Death and Escaped - Chapter 42.1

All of Gu Qingzhu’s business activities had been terminated.

Only one event remained Assistant Lu had tried and failed several times to decline.

The Star City Film Festival.

The year the festival was founded, Gu Qingzhu had won her first Best Actress award. In the years that followed, she achieved remarkable success, transitioning from a guest receiving accolades to becoming one of the voting jurors, maintaining a harmonious relationship with the event.

Earlier this year, the film Drift she had participated in was nominated for several categories again. There were even rumors circulating in the industry that the festival would announce a name change to “Qingzhu” this year. Though the rumors might not come true, they were enough to prove the committee’s high regard for Gu Qingzhu.

When Assistant Lu relayed the news to Gu Qingzhu, she was equally apprehensive. If not for the organizers’ persistence, insisting on a response from the omega, she wouldn’t have dared to disturb her.

Everyone avoided an emotionally unstable Gu Qingzhu.

For so many years, Ying Xu had been the only exception.

“If it can’t be refused, then I’ll go.”

Just as Assistant Lu was lost in her thoughts, the woman had already responded.

Startled, Assistant Lu looked up, unable to comprehend why Gu Qingzhu had suddenly relented. After all, online rumors were rife with claims that Gu Qingzhu was retreating from the industry out of guilt. A sudden public appearance would undoubtedly spark another frenzy.

“Contact more media outlets,” Gu Qingzhu continued, as if oblivious to her assistant’s turmoil. “I’ll officially announce my retirement at the festival.”

Assistant Lu was stunned for a long time.

Though she had long known that Gu Qingzhu would likely never return to the industry, she had still held onto hope before it became official.

Perhaps Qingzhu had indeed done something wrong, but the involved party, Ying Xu, had already stopped pursuing the matter. The incident with the cat had also been orchestrated by Song Fei… So why were there still so many condemnations?

Assistant Lu didn’t understand, but she didn’t dare bring it up in front of Gu Qingzhu either. It wasn’t until she was about to leave that she turned to Ying Xu, who had offered to walk her out.

“Miss Ying.”

The alpha’s voice was gentle. “Just call me Ying Xu.”

“Ying Xu,” she said cautiously, “could you, try to persuade Qingzhu?”

Ying Xu didn’t respond, and the silence was within Assistant Lu’s expectations. Though disappointed, she didn’t press further.

After the beta left, Ying Xu turned and walked back toward the mansion.

Since that “I won’t blame you,” the dynamic between her and Gu Qingzhu had undergone a subtle shift.

The omega had begun communicating with her, and the first thing she brought up was retirement.

Ying Xu asked, “Why?”

“Isn’t it good to finish what you started?”

Under the dim light, Gu Qingzhu’s voice carried a hint of melancholy.

There was distance between them, and Ying Xu couldn’t clearly see Gu Qingzhu’s expression, but she could sense the urgency in the omega’s tone when she mentioned “retirement.”

The reason was simple.

Gu Qingzhu was offering compensation, using her retirement to prove the sincerity of those words “I won’t blame you.”

Ying Xu knew full well that she should dissuade Gu Qingzhu.

Not only because the “real Ying Xu” wouldn’t want Gu Qingzhu to leave, but also because putting “love” on public display, with the masses as witnesses, would accelerate the mission progress far faster than imagined.

But in the end, Ying Xu said nothing.

Perhaps it was out of “respect for Gu Qingzhu’s wishes,” or perhaps it was retaliation.

Or maybe she just wanted to see how far Gu Qingzhu would go.

The news of Gu Qingzhu’s attendance at the film festival spread across the internet at lightning speed.

Behind this was the push of online trolls, coupled with the angry questioning from netizens who had long held the upper hand. The comment section of the original post where the news first broke had long been overrun, filled with nothing but vitriol.

[Get lost.]

[No expectations, no support. Try asking again and see what happens.]

[How dare she show up at the event? What’s her deal? How much did they pay her?]

[Better to watch Ying Xu’s performance as Liang Ruoyan.]

[Attending a film festival today, back on screen tomorrow. I mean, what kind of morally bankrupt person even qualifies as a guest? If you’re that desperate for attention, we can burn some for you @Starlight Film Festival @Gu Qingzhu.]

“What are you looking at?”

The back seat was spacious as the car headed toward the film festival venue.

Gu Qingzhu rarely felt uneasy, but after flipping through a few pages of a book on emotional management, she lost interest. Turning her head slightly, she noticed Ying Xu on the other side staring at her phone screen, which inevitably reminded her of the hateful comments from before.

Ying Xu’s fingers paused, then switched to another interface before pushing the screen toward Gu Qingzhu without hesitation.

With her initiative, Gu Qingzhu finally lowered her gaze.

The forum was called The Bamboo Grove Cultivation Manual, its cover featuring an image of an indoor-grown bamboo plant, as if it were a discussion on agriculture.

But the post titles were far from serious, some were even downright cute: [Haven’t seen our little treasure in so long. Wonder what look she’ll go for today.]

Most of the replies were guesses about her outfit or expressions of longing, while a small portion voiced concerns about on-site security.

Even Gu Qingzhu, slow as she was to these things, realized this seemed to be a post made by her fans.

She rarely engaged with such content, so it felt novel to her. But after scrolling through a few comments, she hesitated to go further.

Gu Qingzhu hadn’t forgotten what she’d seen that day. She had to admit those words, though unrelated to her, had indeed struck a blow.

Noticing the omega’s hesitation, Ying Xu didn’t push her.

She simply said softly, “There are still many people who like you, Qingzhu.”

What does it matter if they like me? The image of “Gu Qingzhu” had already been tarnished, becoming a stain.

She could guess the kind of ridicule her fans would face and genuinely didn’t want them to suffer attacks just for “liking” her.

The next second, she froze, realizing that someone had already endured all of this long before them.

An indescribable sense of suffocation made Gu Qingzhu lower her eyes. She did everything she could not to show any sign of distress.

Ying Xu watched quietly from the sidelines.

By the time they arrived at the venue, the staff had been waiting for a while, and every one of them still treated Gu Qingzhu with warmth.

Clearly, public opinion hadn’t affected their attitude toward her.

Gu Qingzhu remained indifferent, but Ying Xu disguised as a new assistant had a faint smile in her eyes. When their gazes met, the corners of her eyes even lifted slightly, as if proving she’d been right.

Ying Xu left to retrieve the gown with the stylist, while Gu Qingzhu stared at her reflection in the mirror, recalling the alpha’s words.

There are still many people who like you.

The moment she heard it, she’d already begun wondering what about Ying Xu?

Did Ying Xu… still like her?

By now, she had a vague answer in her heart.

If Ying Xu didn’t like her, she wouldn’t still be by her side.

Before, Gu Qingzhu had never understood where Ying Xu’s affection came from. She only knew that whenever she looked back, those not-so-hidden emotions had already swelled into a damp lake, impossible to fill no matter how much hatred or malice was poured in.

Perhaps… these feelings didn’t need a reason.

Just as Gu Qingzhu hesitated, still deep in thought, a voice reached her from outside the door before its owner appeared.

“Long time no see, Actress Gu.”

It was just an offhand remark from a beta, yet a sudden chill ran down Gu Qingzhu’s spine.

Before her eyes flashed the image of that cat, those words, that night, the endless dream.

Until she saw the face that followed the dream Ying Xu’s face, and the alpha’s gentle whispers.

For a fleeting moment, she was lost in thought before snapping back to reality.

Seeing Gu Qingzhu’s grim expression, Song Fei’s smile deepened.

With Gu Qingzhu being abandoned by everyone, Song Fei’s own popularity had surged. Though the gains were trivial, the mere thought of the omega’s downfall filled her with genuine satisfaction.

“I thought you’d keep hiding at home. I was just about to leak a few things to the media.” Noticing Gu Qingzhu was alone, Song Fei shifted the topic. “Actress Gu has more backbone than I imagined. Pity it came a bit too late.”

The sarcasm was heavy, clearly implying she believed Ying Xu had also left Gu Qingzhu.

Song Fei didn’t bother lowering her voice. Passersby overheard but only exchanged odd glances, making no move to intervene.

Ying Xu paused her steps, separated by just a wall. She couldn’t hear Gu Qingzhu’s response.

Perhaps she didn’t know how to reply, or perhaps it was because of that cat she didn’t dare to.

Just as Ying Xu was about to push the door open, Gu Qingzhu finally spoke: “Before mocking me, maybe you should think about which of the new projects between you and the Song family Song Lianshan will choose.”

Song Fei’s expression shifted.

She knew nothing about any new projects, why was Gu Qingzhu so certain?

What was there to explain? How much? Countless questions flashed through her mind, but the half-open door was pushed open at that moment.

“It’s time to go, Qingzhu.” Ying Xu approached slowly, her gaze filled with warmth and affection as she looked at Gu Qingzhu.

Gu Qingzhu didn’t leave any parting shots, walking ahead without another word. But the calmer she was, the more uneasy Song Fei felt.

She wanted to press further, but Ying Xu halted, her blue eyes now cold and disdainful.

“Miss Song,” Ying Xu said softly, “mind your words.”

Song Fei instinctively retorted, “Who do you think you”

“Fei,” her assistant Ling Nian finally arrived, freezing momentarily at the sight of Ying Xu before hurriedly intervening, “Miss Ying, apologies.”

Ying Xu didn’t respond, simply following Gu Qingzhu without another glance.

By the time Song Fei regained her composure, Ling Nian was already lecturing her about controlling her temper. Frustration boiling over, she could only ask, “Gu Qingzhu said my sister has a new project?”

Ling Nian was equally clueless.

Song Fei’s hostility toward Gu Qingzhu deepened. Instinctively, she unlocked her device, intending to accelerate a certain plan.

But what greeted her was a message from an unknown number, a photo of the cat mourned by the entire internet, its eyes circled in red.

Like sapphires, gleaming under the light.

“Fei?”

Song Fei jolted back to reality, only to hear her assistant say, “The film festival is about to start. Let’s go.”

Normally, events followed the sequence of walking the red carpet first before entering the venue.

But perhaps to “accommodate” Gu Qingzhu, the organizers had adjusted the order, placing the red carpet after the awards ceremony.

Drift had achieved remarkable success, nominated for nearly every award.

Previously, everyone assumed the film would sweep the awards, basking in glory. But with Gu Qingzhu’s sudden scandal, the judging panel would likely control the votes.

When Gu Qingzhu arrived at the scene, the director from the neighboring crew was all smiles, enthusiastically discussing the celebration venue for after winning the award. The chatter only ceased when they noticed her.

She took her seat naturally. Though no one in the crew spoke, the exchanged glances carried an unmistakable strangeness.

Despite the fact that Chasing the Current’s nomination and current achievements largely relied on Gu Qingzhu’s popularity, when it came down to potentially losing the award, they couldn’t help but feel she was a burden.

No one voiced it, but everyone thought it.

Gu Qingzhu lowered her eyes. She avoided looking, yet those gazes still pricked at her like needles, fine and relentless.

“Qingzhu,” Ying Xu murmured beside her, “It’s alright. It’ll be over soon.”

One last time.

It’ll be over soon.

As if comforted by these words, a faint smile touched Gu Qingzhu’s eyes. “Go find Xiao Lu. I know the rest of the procedures, no need to worry too much.”

She wore a cascading, gilded gown, radiant like a pearl, forever the center of attention.

But after today, the luster of this pearl would be extinguished by her own hand. Ying Xu couldn’t quite articulate her thoughts. Before leaving, she only bent down to straighten the slightly ruffled hem of Gu Qingzhu’s dress.

The omega said nothing, her gaze lingering on Ying Xu’s crown, her wrist drooping slightly. The jade bracelet she wore concealed the scars beneath.

By the time the live broadcast began, Ying Xu had already taken her seat on the right side of the stage, dimly lit and surrounded by chattering staff.

The crew and actors were seated on the left, encircled by a swarm of cameras.

This was a live-streamed film festival.

When Ying Xu opened the livestream, the barrage of comments was already in full swing.

[They even changed the procedures, who wouldn’t say this is rigged?]

[How does Gu Qingzhu even dare to show up?]

[With Gu Qingzhu out of the picture, Song Fei can finally win Best Actress. Years of endurance finally paying off congrats in advance!]

[Song Fei’s acting isn’t as good as many veterans, but at least she’s better than a blacklisted scumbag.]

[Blacklisted = still attending the festival, nominated for Best Actress. Who cares about your worthless opinion?]

[Every time a Gu Qingzhu fan curses, may it rebound on Gu Qingzhu herself. Wishing her an early.]

After days of silence, Gu Qingzhu’s reappearance emboldened her fans, who saw this as a chance for redemption. Their fervor was palpable.

Assistant Lu was also watching, typing furious rebuttals in the heat of the moment. Ying Xu followed suit, but her comments were swiftly deleted one by one.

The host soon took the stage, and the ceremony began.

The screen displayed the nominees for Best Picture. The director from earlier even waved a hand, unable to hide his smugness.

But in the next second, that smugness froze into something far more rigid.

The host announced that the highest honor had been awarded to Chasing the Current.

The entire Chasing the Current team was stunned. The barrage of comments was instantly flooded with question marks, replacing the earlier vitriol. Everyone was asking why and how.

Unlike the online outrage, many of the attending artists, though surprised, weren’t entirely shocked. The film’s quality spoke for itself, forcing it to be a mere runner-up would have been blatantly unfair.

The subsequent awards proceeded smoothly, with even the most hostile commenters offering little dissent.

The unease brought by Song Fei’s sudden appearance gradually dissipated.

Ying Xu’s heart settled. But as things became more and more set in stone, a trace of hesitation flickered in her eyes. She began to wonder, was forcing Gu Qingzhu to leave the industry really the right thing to do?

Before she could reach a conclusion, a staff member took Assistant Lu away under the pretext of discussing follow-up procedures.

Ying Xu paused, assuming Gu Qingzhu had given some private instructions, and her hesitation dissipated instantly.

She reopened the live stream, where the chat was buzzing about the upcoming awards.

[Yue He has seventeen original scores in one movie, all top-tier. Best Original Music is a lock!]

[Why is Drifting nominated? The whole film only has three songs.]

[It’s just because the theme song went viral. The judges are riding the hype. No way they’d give it to Drifting.]

The next second, the host announced the winner.

On the massive screen, dazzling lights swept over the Drifting crew, illuminating everyone’s stunned expressions.

In an instant, the chat exploded. The theme song of Drifting echoed through the venue, its piercing whistle-like notes overwhelming all senses.

Ying Xu felt uneasy but couldn’t pinpoint why until the second, then the third… every award that shouldn’t have gone to Drifting was handed to them.

Finally, she realized the problem.

Previous scandals about her background had been framed as mere “personal moral failings,” something time could heal. But when it came to awards, questions of fairness escalated the issue to an incomparable severity.

And this time, the Gu family would also be implicated.

[Just because Gu Qingzhu is famous, the judges are forcing a narrative to defend her?]

[If this isn’t rigged, what is? So unfair.]

[Stop disrespecting music and film… this is disgusting!]

[Someone dug up the sponsor it’s a sub-brand of the Sheng family. Qinghong is doing this on purpose. Don’t fall for the bait.]