After Reuniting with My Aloof Movie Queen Childhood Friend - Chapter 24

The distribution process for Qianjin Gu went incredibly smoothly.

Ji Youyi had initially assumed that since the drama was entangled in a credit controversy, the streaming platform would force a price cut. To her surprise, Filmily was exceptionally generous, offering an incredibly high price instead.

Ji Youyi naturally loved money, especially money that rightfully belonged to her. She would pocket it immediately, being a single second too slow would be a grand irreverence to the Goddess of Wealth.

But the issue was that the selling price of Qianjin Gu clearly exceeded what it deserved.

Pointing at the numbers on the contract, she asked, “Are you sure this isn’t a typo?”

The platform representative double checked. “Nope. The price is based on the rating tier. Your tier is high, so this is the price.”

“A low-budget drama worth three million yuan can get a rating tier this high?” Ji Youyi found it hard to believe.

Was Filmily running a charity? Weren’t they afraid of losing money?

Besides, was the return on investment in the television market really this high?

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known peers in the TV drama industry before. They used to constantly cry to her about how grueling the production was and how difficult it was to make money.

The platform representative said with a beam, “A high tier is a good thing. The higher the tier, the better the resources allocated to you. Small production crews have it tough. Only when you make money will you have the budget for promotions. Once the drama’s popularity rises, the platform profits more too. It’s a win-win cooperation!”

This argument wasn’t entirely without merit.

Though she still felt like Filmily was basically doing charity.

After signing the contract, Ji Youyi went back to find Wu Buxing, who was grinning so wide his mouth practically reached the back of his ears. She took the opportunity to squeeze another large sum of money out of him to use for operating the official account.

The official Weibo for Qianjin Gu didn’t originally have a dedicated marketing team. The account was managed by a young girl from the production crew. She rarely logged in, usually just posting a few still photos every couple of days to show the account was still alive, and the engagement was pitifully low.

The most popular post was a nine grid photo collage from the day of the script read-through.

At that time, Ji Youyi’s suicide controversy had just broken out two days prior, and the comment section was filled with venomous vitriol:

[Look at that, I told you this woman was faking it. If she really didn’t want to live, would she still join a crew to shoot a drama? She would’ve found a way to commit suicide again a long time ago. This kind of attention-seeker deserves to get hit by a car when she steps outside.]

[Can we fire Ji Youyi? The fact that a crew is willing to take in a tainted artist means the domestic entertainment industry is truly finished! This orphan crew must have had their entire family wiped out to accept an artist who persecuted an innocent male colleague.]

[Because this drama itself is trash. A trash drama that specifically collects trash. It’s going to be a piece of sh*t when it’s made anyway~ Go ahead and shoot it, you’ll regret it when the whole internet boycotts you.]

A few days after posting the read-through photos, the girl wanted to log in to post new stills. But when she opened Weibo, thousands of malicious curses flooded her vision.

That was during the peak of the anti-fans’ frenzy. While cursing Ji Youyi, they dragged the production crew and the person behind the official account into the mud as well.

The young girl had never seen such a onslaught before and burst into tears on the spot.

Therefore, Ji Youyi had maintained the account during that period.

She deleted every single photo of herself, one by one.

Once the main page was clean and she handed the account back to the young marketing girl, Ji Youyi did not forget to instruct her to stop posting anything related to her.

Ji Youyi knew the netizens hated her, but she really had no other choice.

If it hadn’t been for Yeoyeocorp being stingy, unwilling to part with the salary for the third female lead, and refusing to let her recast the role, she wouldn’t have wanted to play Ning Li and pollute the audience’s eyes either.

The only thing she could do was minimize the number of frames featuring Ning Li in the trailer.

Qianjin Gu was finally scheduled to premiere on June 25th. After the contract with Filmily was finalized, the trailer was released.

The drama featured entirely fresh faces, and its biggest “star” was Ji Youyi, who had been mired in controversy for months. The organic traffic she brought was practically zero.

Ji Youyi hadn’t pinned any high hopes on it, but that evening, she received a message from the platform saying that the video views had surpassed one million. Furthermore, two high-ranking hot search topics had appeared on Weibo, and the number of reservations was skyrocketing.

When she saw the message, Ji Youyi was still working on a film set.

Squatting outside, she called Li Zhulan, feeling like a country bumpkin entering the grand capital. “I knew this platform had massive traffic, but how can it be this massive?”

Celebrities had fans to inflate their view counts, but they didn’t have any fans. They relied entirely on passersby watching voluntarily. Yet, the view count could actually break a million in a single day?

Li Zhulan had been refreshing the comments all day. While on the phone, she guiltily glanced across her desktop computer, laptop, tablet, and two cellphones on the table, mumbling weakly, “It’s not… completely without water…”

She had rarely woken up early, but she had been camped out waiting for the Qianjin Gu trailer since morning. After it aired, she had kept it on a continuous loop until now.

In all her years of being a fangirl, she had never managed data for her idols, but now she was running five screens simultaneously to stream her own drama.

Oh, Writer Li, Writer Li, you have finally fallen into degradation.

Ji Youyi didn’t log onto Weibo. She opened Filmily, took a cursory glance at the trailer’s comments, and closed it.

Perfect. At first glance, she didn’t see many people cursing her in the comment section, it was almost entirely praise for the visuals and anticipation for the plot.

She was in a good mood. Seeing Li Zhulan sounding deflated, she assumed the writer was worried the plot might disappoint the audience, so she comforted her, “Don’t worry, Director Ji kept a close eye on the script, so it’s definitely fine. Didn’t I force you to rewrite all the problematic parts anyway?”

Li Zhulan’s tone turned chilly. “Heh, that’s right. You even forced me to write my precious Libao to death.”

She dropped a screenshot over to Ji Youyi, strongly condemning her, “Look! So many people are asking why your screen time is so minuscule!”

Ji Youyi tapped it open; it was a Weibo post.

The original poster asked:

[Why does Xiao Ji have so little screen time? There isn’t even a single close-up.]

The replies below read:

[Probably because that read-through Weibo post was blasted too harshly, so the drama production side is scared too. It’s fine, at least I’m extremely satisfied with the styling. Looking forward to the actual show!]

[Don’t be too optimistic. If there’s barely any screen time in the trailer, how much do you think there’ll be in the actual show?]

[Waaaah, I can only comfort myself that having a project out is already good. I’ll watch it with a magnifying glass. Let’s dream that Teacher Meng will help promote it.]

The engagement on this Weibo post didn’t seem high, with only a scattering of replies and likes.

Ji Youyi hadn’t expected anyone to actually look forward to her appearance. She saved the image to her favorites and teased, “You call this ‘so many people’?”

“How is this not many!” Li Zhulan shouted, only then remembering that the image she sent had been screenshotted at ten in the morning.

At that time, Meng Xingshu hadn’t logged onto Weibo yet to give a like to the Qianjin Gu trailer.

But now…

Li Zhulan refreshed the page.

Excellent. The #MengYouJi Super Topic had already surpassed ten thousand members, and the comments under that particular Weibo post had climbed past seven thousand. Everyone was simultaneously obsessing over Ji Youyi’s screen time while aggressively screaming over the CP ship.

As a veteran member of the CP Super Topic, Li Zhulan had to keep her identity tightly hidden. She could only force an explanation. “Three people make a crowd, count them yourself, this is already two crowds!”

“Alright, alright, thanks for sending it to me.” Ji Youyi laughed, though a small doubt surfaced. “But why did they mention Teacher Meng?”

“Cough!” Naturally, it was because they were in the CP Super Topic.

Li Zhulan had screenshotted in a hurry this morning and truly hadn’t noticed the last sentence. She quickly unsent the message, continuing to play dumb. “No idea.”

Ji Youyi, however, already had an answer. “Does she often help others promote their work?”

“Uh.” Li Zhulan thought about the only two likes recorded on Meng Xingshu’s otherwise barren profile over the past year, and said vaguely, “I guess… so…”

Ji Youyi praised sincerely from the bottom of her heart, “She’s really nice.”

Li Zhulan didn’t dare delve into this topic and quickly diverted the conversation. “Have you still not started working over there? What time is it already? Are you guys even shooting today?”

Ji Youyi stood up, shaking her legs which had gone numb from squatting, and gazed out toward the crowd. “I reckon it’s a long shot.”

Unable to land any good gigs lately, Ji Youyi had no choice but to apply as an extra. At 15 yuan an hour, she could make a bit over a hundred yuan a day, which wasn’t bad, the key part was that meals were included.

The only downside was that clock-out time was usually in the latter half of the night. When Meng Xingshu came to pick her up, she often had to wait until four or five in the morning.

Fortunately, President Lin had very generously agreed to their request to change rooms. They had moved to the first floor by the second week, allowing them to sleep a second longer by walking a few fewer steps.

The crew she was with today was for a drama titled Feng Zhao Ling. It was a massive investment, apparently an annual blockbuster, and she was playing a background palace maid.

The role was easy, the lunch boxes were delicious, and the crew was noticeably filthy rich. But for some unknown reason, even after two lunch boxes had settled in her stomach, filming still hadn’t commenced.

Ji Youyi had finished her makeup early in the morning to wait on set, only to hear that the lead wanted to sleep in, pushing the scenes to the afternoon. Consequently, everyone waited from the afternoon until nightfall, yet the star had still not shown up.

In the distance, the director and camera crews had completely given up, finding comfortable spots to rest.

Extras didn’t have a designated rest area. The night wind blew quite harshly, and the costume was thin. Ji Youyi wrapped her arms tightly around herself, hiding behind a tree. While chatting with Li Zhulan about the subsequent marketing copy for Qianjin Gu, she jogged in place to keep warm.

In S City.

Inside the banquet hall, thousands of crystal chandeliers illuminated a brilliant display of prestige and wealth. Dressed in an understated black evening gown, Meng Xingshu loosely held Meng Yuting’s arm, walking by her side.

The aura around her was gentle and refined, perfectly resembling a well-behaved daughter accompanying her mother to a social gathering.

Meng Yuting’s objective tonight was crystal clear.

With policies tightening, real estate loans were difficult to approve. Relying solely on Changfeng’s current credit line, they wouldn’t be able to secure one at all. She had to use Meng Xingshu’s celebrity status as an endorsement.

She led Meng Xingshu toward several bank presidents, raising toasts one by one.

The conversation was highly enthusiastic. For the sake of the funding, Meng Yuting hardened her resolve, emptying cup after cup without pause.

As the atmosphere peaked, Meng Xingshu reached out to hold Meng Yuting’s arm, her eyes filled with concern. “Mom, your body can’t handle this. The doctor just said you need to drink less.”

“I’m having a great conversation with your Auntie Fan. Don’t spoil the mood,” Meng Yuting chided with disapproval on her face.

Meng Xingshu let out a helpless, soft sigh, taking a glass of wine from a passing waiter’s tray. “Then let me take it for you, okay?”

With that, she turned a poised and quiet smile toward the person opposite them. “Auntie Fan, I toast to you.”

“Oh, excellent, excellent.” Fan Dongli was thoroughly charmed by this little interlude, laughing heartily as she said, “Yuting, I truly envy you for raising such a wonderful daughter. How did you raise her? I must pick your brain today. That little rascal of mine refuses to stay home, and asking her to accompany me out is like asking for her life.”

How did she raise her? Meng Xingshu thought of something. Wearing a smile, her eyelashes fluttered gently, looking exceptionally radiant and striking under the lights.

Meng Yuting looked down on Meng Xingshu and deeply detested it when others treated this bastard child as her daughter, but she had no choice but to follow along with the conversation.

She was a master of public relations, and her performances of mother-daughter affection with Meng Xingshu had always been seamless.

As Meng Xingshu’s second glass of wine went down her throat, Meng Yuting’s assistant hurried into the banquet hall and whispered something into her ear.

Meng Yuting’s expression shifted slightly. Smiling, she said, “Sister Fan, something urgent came up. I need to head upstairs for a moment. I’ll be right back.”

Since the loan details hadn’t been finalized yet, she could only instruct Meng Xingshu, “Accompany your Auntie Fan and have a good chat.”

“Alright, Mother.” Meng Xingshu smiled elegantly.