Daily Life of a Villain at Work [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: The Second Day of Exploring the Protagonist’s Daily Life~

By the time Chu Ke finished her shower and came out, Wen Qingyun was already back on the sofa, lazily scrolling through her own “Super Topic” (fan forum) on Weibo.

Even though the camera had temporarily cut away from Wen Qingyun after she claimed her rewards, it didn’t stop her fans from engaging in digital warfare with her detractors across the internet.

【Time’s up! Just a reminder to the trolls barking around here: [Megaphone icon] Thanks for your hard work! Our Super Topic’s reading volume has skyrocketed to number one~】

【Flowers blooming~ We don’t even need to boost our own data this week. Thanks to everyone for contributing to the heat~】

【[Dog head icon] I’ve pinned the giveaway info; sisters in need can click straight through~】

Seeing her fans learn her signature style of “adding the final blow,” a gratified smile appeared on Wen Qingyun’s face. Teachables! With such studious fans, she’d feel even more confident the next time she decided to speak her mind.

Chu Ke emerged from the bathroom, her hair half-dried with a towel and pinned back with a headband to let it air-dry naturally.

“Teacher Wen, do you have any dietary restrictions?” Chu Ke walked over and asked.

Because the cameraman hadn’t been allowed inside, Chu Ke was dressed quite casually in a loose T-shirt and shorts, revealing her collarbones, knees, and calves which had been strictly covered before.

“There’s nothing in the ingredients I brought that I can’t eat. As long as the seasoning is right, I’m fine.” Wen Qingyun flipped her phone face-down on the sofa and glanced at the obvious tan lines on Chu Ke’s neck and collarbone.

“Teacher Chu Ke, do you want me to give you some sunscreen spray?” Wen Qingyun said. “I think you really need it.”

Chu Ke followed Wen Qingyun’s gaze and touched her own neck, her lips curling into a smile. “Sure, thank you, Teacher Wen.”

“You’re welcome. I have a sunscreen endorsement; I’ll message the brand later to have them ship some stock from the nearest warehouse.” Wen Qingyun didn’t hide her motive.

“Once you receive it,” Wen Qingyun continued, “please remember to reapply it in front of the camera when we’re doing tasks together.”

Chu Ke froze for a second. She didn’t dispute the assumption that they would be doing tasks together, but caught another key point. “Teacher Wen, wouldn’t it be better if the spokesperson—you—promoted the product?”

“Normally, yes. But the show has its own sponsors. I signed a contract that forbids me from advertising other brands on camera.” Wen Qingyun shrugged. “But you haven’t signed that kind of contract with the production team, have you?”

Chu Ke couldn’t say she had no contract. To appear on screen, she naturally had one. However, hers wasn’t an employer-employee contract, but a more equal cooperation agreement.

“You have a contract?” Wen Qingyun raised an eyebrow, reading the answer in Chu Ke’s silence.

“To be honest, I was the one who emailed Shishu Village’s details to the production team. They chose this location based on my recommendation and coordination.” Chu Ke didn’t hide the truth. “I have an agreement with the crew: I need to assist them in handling any ‘accidents’ that occur during filming.”

A flash of understanding crossed Wen Qingyun’s eyes. “In that case, consider the sunscreen a thank-you gift. Please help me out over the next four days.”

“Okay,” Chu Ke nodded. After a brief exchange, she turned to the kitchen to prep the ingredients for dinner.

…

When Wen Qingyun appeared back on camera, it was 7:00 PM. The five guests had finished dinner and were gathered at the activity center for their routine post-meal game: chatting about their own gossip and answering questions submitted by the audience.

Undoubtedly, Wen Qingyun was the star of the show. Out of twenty questions, even with the production team’s attempts to balance things, eight were specifically directed at her. Wen Qingyun was used to it; if the crew was brave enough to pick the questions, she was brave enough to answer them.

However, today was slightly different. Instead of other guests reading the questions, the crew had designated Chu Ke as the narrator.

The first few questions were mild—mostly curiosity about the guests’ past scandals, serving as a “whitewashing” opportunity provided by the show. But toward the end, the questions became sharp, causing Chu Ke, acting as the NPC reader, to frown.

Chu Ke read: “A netizen asks Teacher Wen: You assumed a male stranger was a future criminal without ever meeting him, and attacked his profession and income. Is this how a public figure should behave? Don’t you think you went too far?”

Wen Qingyun laughed. “It’s my first time hearing that stating facts counts as a personal attack. I suggest that netizens read more books and stop being so ignorant.”

“As for assuming someone is a future criminal—isn’t that what men do on the streets every day? When they see an independent woman living in a high-end complex, they slander her by assuming she’s in an ‘illegal profession.’ When they see a female driver following the rules, they assume she’s a ‘road killer’ in the making.”

“You never think those baseless fantasies are problematic, so why do you think it’s a problem when I infer a logical conclusion based on an elder’s words and behavior?” Wen Qingyun waved her hand. “Next question.”

Chu Ke’s frown gradually relaxed. “A netizen asks: Why do you only let women join your giveaway? Don’t you need male fans? If not, please apologize to them.”

Wen Qingyun leaned back lazily on the sofa. “The answer is in my post. If you have vision problems, get glasses; if you have eye problems, go to the hospital. I’m not a doctor; I don’t provide medical services.”

Chu Ke took a tactical sip of water. “A netizen asks Teacher Han Chi: Is your work truly original, or, as your ex-girlfriend claimed, did you plagiarize the vast majority of her inspiration and works?”

Han Chi, who had been waiting for this moment, sat up straight. He used his lifetime of acting skills to look melancholy and hurt.

“I’ve explained this many times, but since people are still curious, I’ll go into detail.” Han Chi sighed performatively. “Xiao Wan and I were in a relationship and lived together. When I hit a bottleneck in my creation, I naturally discussed it with her and asked for her opinions on demos.”

“Xiao Wan did provide useful suggestions and gave me new inspiration. When naming the works, I didn’t think to add her name—that was my negligence. I’ve since compensated her and gave her a share of the earnings. But she seems unsatisfied. If there’s a chance, I’d like to talk to her face-to-face. We have been together since college; I don’t want five years of love to leave only bad memories.”

His tone was incredibly sincere. Viewers who didn’t know the backstory were misled, thinking the ex-girlfriend was simply greedy. Simultaneously, the “water army” (paid posters) Han Chi had hired began flooding the chat.

【It’s normal to share creative work with someone close, right? If she just gave opinions, does she even need a credit?】 【Han Chi is actually great; he gave credit and money. The ex-girlfriend should stop now.】

Just as the tide was turning in Han Chi’s favor, Wen Qingyun let out a blatantly disrespectful laugh, her face full of undisguised disgust. This made Han Chi, who was playing the emotional card, lose face. “Teacher Wen, do you have something to say?”

“You’re asking me?” Wen Qingyun looked at him with a half-smile.

Han Chi’s heart skipped a beat, but since he’d already spoken, he had to push through. “It seems you have a prejudice against me?”

Wen Qingyun had originally intended just to express her disdain, but Han Chi was practically begging to be slapped in the face.

“It’s not prejudice; it’s just contempt for your inferior character,” she said bluntly. “I usually have no interest in industry gossip, but I did my homework before filming. I wanted to know what kind of person I’d be working with for a week.”

“Teacher Wen, this is the audience Q&A session,” Han Chi interrupted, sensing danger.

But Wen Qingyun didn’t play along. She pulled her lapel mic off and held it to her mouth.

“The person asked doesn’t want to tell the truth, so let me answer on his behalf,” Wen Qingyun projected. “Han Chi does have original lyrics and music in his portfolio. Unfortunately, none of the songs that made him famous are among them.”

“So it’s not that Han Chi needs to ‘add’ a name; he needs to return ownership to the creator. As for the ‘profit sharing,’ I’ve heard a bit about that too.” Wen Qingyun smirked, the contempt in her eyes sharpening. “Han Chi’s so-called ‘sharing’ was earning a hundred dollars and spending fifty cents to buy a piece of candy as a ‘gift’ for the creator.”

“Wen Qingyun! You are slandering me!” Han Chi panicked. He came to this show to wash his image, not to self-destruct!

“Oh? Then call the police. I’ll wait right here.” Wen Qingyun sat motionless on the sofa.

Han Chi turned red, rendered speechless. Call the police? How could he! It was because the authorities had already made a preliminary ruling against him that he was here in the first place!

“Alright, next question.” Wen Qingyun clipped her mic back on, looking like a hero who had completed her mission and was fading into the background.

Han Chi was shaking with rage. Knowing that over a million people were watching, he wished he could faint just to save face and later claim he was “fainted from the slander.” Unfortunately, he couldn’t even manage that. He sat there, his face dark, unable to argue. He wanted to storm off, but feared the million-dollar breach of contract fee. All he could do was lower his head and try to disappear.

Chu Ke took another tactical sip of water, trying to steady her voice. “Last question. A netizen asks Teacher Wen: You let others do your tasks but take the rewards for yourself. Aren’t you embarrassed?”

As she finished, Chu Ke’s expression became subtle as she looked at Wen Qingyun.

Wen Qingyun raised an eyebrow, her eyes reflecting the poised Chu Ke, and then she broke into a radiant smile. “Teacher Chu Ke, do you mind me doing that?”

Chu Ke blinked. Realizing the camera was on her, she offered a flawless smile.

“I don’t mind at all. When the cameras weren’t rolling, Teacher Wen gave me a very thoughtful gift. She’s a very good person; please don’t misunderstand her.”

Wen Qingyun was satisfied with the answer. She looked directly into the lens. “Did the person who asked hear that? The party involved doesn’t mind. In the future, remember to use less salt in your cooking—don’t be so ‘salty’ (nosy).”