Everyone in the Entertainment Industry Thinks I’m a Flirty Diva [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 22

Having beautiful handwriting has always been a major plus, especially in the entertainment industry where the general cultural level of artists isn’t particularly high. Many male stars may look tall and handsome, but their handwriting is crooked and adorably ugly, leaving fans both amused and exasperated.

Everyone had initially just glanced casually at Chu Xi’s test paper, but the text magnified on the screen was unexpectedly stunning.

This level of magnification accentuated both strengths and flaws—the beautiful became even more beautiful, while the ugly became even more glaring. On camera, Chu Xi’s handwriting was elegant and neat, with strokes that were firm and angular, making it a sheer pleasure to look at.

Her brick-hardcore fans were overjoyed:

[Wow, Xi Bao’s handwriting is so pretty!]

[Not only is she gorgeous, but her handwriting is also this beautiful. Chu Xi is truly a treasure.]

[I’ve always envied people with nice handwriting. As someone with chicken-scratch writing, I’m crying with envy. Lemon emoji.jpg]

Someone else questioned:

[Wait, isn’t Chu Xi supposed to be the type of delinquent girl who did terribly in school? How does she have such nice handwriting?]

[Who says bad grades automatically mean ugly handwriting?]

[The more I look at this handwriting, the more beautiful it gets. Chu Xi is amazing.]

……

In the classroom, Chu Xi skimmed through the questions on the test paper.

The two Chinese questions were straightforward—one was a poetry recitation exercise, and the other was identifying grammatical errors. Neither was difficult, and Chu Xi finished them quickly. The English section was a short reading comprehension passage with three questions, which she also completed. Then, she turned her attention to the math problems below.

One question was about selecting interval sets. Chu Xi recalled her previous studies and managed to answer it. The remaining question was about logarithms and logarithmic functions. Chu Xi instinctively felt this shouldn’t be too difficult either, but after over two years of barely studying, she couldn’t remember the relevant formulas no matter how hard she tried, leaving her staring blankly at the question.

Apart from the English and Chinese sections at the beginning, which she handled relatively smoothly, Chu Xi struggled with the rest. She realized she had forgotten many related formulas, theorems, and concepts, forcing her to rely on guesswork.

With five minutes left before class ended, time was up. The homeroom teacher collected the test papers from the four new students to grade later. Aside from the classical poetry recitation in the Chinese section, the rest were all multiple-choice. Teacher Liu leaned against the podium, picked up a red pen, and began marking the papers against the answer key.

At first, Teacher Liu’s expression was neutral, but after marking six consecutive wrong answers on the first paper, he wondered if he had misaligned the answer key. He double-checked carefully, only to confirm he hadn’t made a mistake.

With each paper he graded, his frown deepened. After finishing the third one, he let out a long sigh and looked at the celebrity transfer students below the podium with concern.

Shaking his head, the teacher started grading the last paper.

The moment he saw this one, his eyes lit up.

Even though they were all multiple-choice questions, some of the earlier papers had been scribbled on messily, making them hard to read. This one, however, was neat and tidy, with each answer written clearly before the corresponding question number.

The teacher’s tightly furrowed brow relaxed slightly.

There was a thirty-minute break between classes, during which the other students went to do group exercises. The energetic rhythm of the broadcast exercises echoed through the school, but the four new transfer students of Class 3, Grade 10 were called to the homeroom teacher’s office instead.

Taking a sip of chrysanthemum tea, the teacher looked at the four students and shook his head.

“I know you’ve all been out of school for many years, and I thought I was mentally prepared, but your performance was even worse than I expected. Sigh…”

He picked up the first test paper—graded on a percentage scale—and read out, “Han Shaowen, eight points.” Then, shaking his head at the sea of red crosses on Han’s paper, he added, “Even if you had just picked ‘C’ for every answer, you’d have scored higher than this. How did you manage this?”

Han Shaowen: “…”

Live comments:

[LMAO, eight points out of a hundred on multiple-choice questions.]

[No offense, but these are first-year high school questions, all multiple-choice, and he only got eight? That’s impressively low.]

[What did you expect from an influencer’s academic level?]

[Teacher Zhao’s disappointment is palpable, hahaha.]

The teacher picked up the second paper. “Hu Xiaoxia, twenty points.”

Hu Xiaoxing visibly relaxed when she heard she scored in double digits compared to Han Shaowen’s eight points.

The homeroom teacher handed the test paper to Hu Xiaoxing and gave a helpless smile at her relieved expression. “Lucky break. Keep working hard.”

For the third test paper, the teacher announced, “Du Chao, fifty points.”

This would normally be a failing score, but compared to the dismal performances of the first two, the audience found it quite satisfactory.

[Chao Chao did great! He got more than half the points, hahaha!]

[After so many years out of school, I probably wouldn’t even get half the questions right if I took a high school test now. Du Chao is already impressive!]

[Du Chao did graduate from a proper acting college, after all. He’s not like those internet celebrities.]

The teacher returned the test to Du Chao. “I checked the rest of your answers. But for the classical poetry recitation in Chinese—’The desolate land of Bashan and Chushui’—why did you follow it with the English word ‘responsibility’?”

Du Chao replied quietly, “Because it rhymes.”

The teacher: “…”

The live chat erupted with [Hahahaha!]

With the first three having received their papers, only one remained in the teacher’s hand—clearly, it was Chu Xi’s.

Hearing the scores of Du Chao and the others, Chu Xi grew increasingly nervous.

She had been unsure about many of the questions.

The teacher deliberately built suspense, smiling as she asked Chu Xi, “Chu Xi, what score do you think you got?”

Chu Xi shook her head. “I don’t know.”

The live audience was equally curious, especially given the rumors about Chu Xi’s high school days. Even her fans weren’t optimistic:

[Come on, Teacher Zhao, just tell us! Did you learn suspense from Hong Tao?]

[Xi Bao, no matter what score you get, your Bricks will always support you!]

[Having neat handwriting is already impressive enough. Now the score will reveal the truth.]

[Xi Bao never went to college—we Bricks never denied that. Please go easy on her.]

[It’s okay, Xi Bao! I’m a sophomore now, and I’ve forgotten most of my high school knowledge. I might score even lower than you if I took the test.]

[Anyone want to bet whether Social Queen Chu can beat Hu Xiaoxing’s twenty points? Hahaha!]

[I bet a dime she won’t!]

[Why isn’t Teacher Zhao announcing it yet? So frustrating!]

Amid the chatter, Teacher Zhao unfolded the test paper, glanced at it, and then handed it to Chu Xi with a bright smile, enunciating clearly, “Chu Xi, ninety-two points.”

Chu Xi seemed stunned by the score, her head snapping up in surprise.

Silence.

Deafening silence.

Not only was the homeroom office dead quiet, but even the lively live chat suddenly fell silent.

Those who had just been betting whether Chu Xi could surpass Hu Xiaoxing’s twenty points were now faced with a score of ninety-two.

Even Chu Xi’s own Bricks were momentarily speechless.

They had been flooding the chat with reassurances—telling her it was okay no matter how low her score was, begging trolls to go easy on her since she never went to college and wasn’t diligent in high school. But what had they just heard? What had they just heard?

Finally, there was someone who scored high. The production crew behind the scenes dared to zoom in the camera and focus on Chu Xi’s test paper.

The paper was neat, clear, and spotless.

In the score column, a bold red “92” was written.

Not only was she the only one among the four guests to pass, but she was also the only one to score above eighty.

Someone who had left school for over two years suddenly returned to take a high school test. While others performed miserably, she stood out brilliantly with a score of ninety-two.

The brick fans (Chu Xi’s fans) had prepared themselves to accept ridicule, but when Chu Xi’s results came out, they unexpectedly won a stunning comeback.

What’s it like to stan an idol who makes you proud? This must be it.

[Ahhhhhhh!!!]

[Xi Bao scored ninety-two! Xi Bao actually scored ninety-two!]

[My girl is so amazing, wuwuwuwu, Xi Bao, mommy loves you!]

[Our girl not only writes beautifully but also aces her tests!]

[Our Chu Xi is not an academic loser! Everyone, see that? Our Chu Xi is not an academic loser!]

[Ninety-two is just the beginning; there’s still room for improvement. Let’s not get too proud, hehe.]

The fans of the other guests and casual viewers were utterly dumbfounded.

[Wh-what’s going on? Isn’t Chu Xi supposed to be a delinquent who flunked school???]

[Holy crap, I forgot all my high school knowledge after just half a year. Chu Xi actually scored 92—that’s insane.]

[No way, if she was good at academics, why didn’t she go to college?]

[Wasn’t she already hanging out with bad crowds in high school?]

[Did the show give her the answers or something?]

…

But no matter how heated the comments were, the people on-site had no idea. Class was about to start, and the four guests took their test papers back to the classroom.

Chu Xi’s score left the other three guests completely shocked, and they all clasped their hands in admiration.

The broadcast gymnastics music was still playing, and the rest of the class hadn’t returned yet, leaving only the four transfer students in the classroom.

They returned to their seats. Han Shaowen immediately crumpled his eight-point test paper and stuffed it into his desk. Du Chao yawned as he sat down. Hu Xiaoxia quietly took out a small mirror from her pencil case and started reapplying her lipstick. Chu Xi returned to her seat, reviewed the mistakes on her test paper, muttered something under her breath, then pulled out her textbook from the desk and began correcting the errors on her paper.

Chu Xi knew her ninety-two points weren’t anything to boast about. The show had clearly considered that the guests had been out of school for a long time and forgotten most of their knowledge, so all the questions on this test were the most basic and straightforward from each subject.

Chu Xi sat by the window in the sunlit classroom. A sudden breeze blew through, and the short-haired girl in her school uniform pressed down on her test paper that was about to fly away. Head bowed, her expression was focused as she earnestly corrected her mistakes. In the frame, her hair covered half of her face, revealing only her delicate, straight nose bridge.

The faint sound of broadcast exercises from outside made the scene even more serene and beautiful.

This moment was immediately captured in a screenshot.

Even a random screenshot looked like an exquisitely composed poster.

If good grades alone made people quite fond of her, then many of the ten thousand live-stream viewers who saw this scene instantly fell into the fandom.

If beauty could kill, Chu Xi’s charm would be lethal without a trace.

The “Bricks” (her fanbase) were moved to tears by this scene.

“Senior Chu Xi, I’m yours.”

“Wuwuwuwu…”

In the Bricks fan group, someone suggested that Chu Xi’s school uniform photos were pure, youthful, and beautiful—proof that she wasn’t an academic slacker but a top student. Should they tell the outside world, shut down the mockers, and slap the haters in the face?

After some discussion, the Bricks ultimately decided against it.

Such a wonderful Chu Xi—they really shouldn’t expose her to more malicious slander and speculation from the outside world.

Thankfully, We Are Classmates was a low-profile show.

How outstanding Chu Xi was—only the Bricks needed to know.

Gu Mingjing had been icy for two days after learning Chu Xi rejected the revised contract he had offered as a compromise.

Gu Mingjing was already an imposing man, but now the aura around him was so oppressive it felt suffocating just to approach him. Even Assistant Gao didn’t dare get too close this time. Heaven knew his legs had been trembling when he reported Chu Xi’s reaction to the CEO—his back had been drenched in sweat by the end of that meeting.

The secretary felt like walking into the CEO’s office to deliver coffee was akin to marching to the execution grounds, even calling family to settle “final affairs.”

Gu Mingjing stewed for two days—and thought for two days. Finally, he couldn’t resist and downloaded the Goose Video app again.

He wanted to see what kind of nonsense show Chu Xi had chosen over him, preferring to scrape the bottom of the entertainment industry rather than stay as his pampered canary.

The first thing Gu Mingjing saw when he opened the app was a classroom scene. The little lover who usually wore silk nightgowns and whimpered beneath him was now dressed in the baggy uniform of an ordinary Chinese high school student. Sunlight streamed through the window as she pressed down her fluttering test paper, head bowed, meticulously working through corrections on scratch paper with clear, careful strokes.

After two days of simmering frustration, Gu Mingjing took one look at the studious, youthful Chu Xi—

And suddenly, his anger evaporated.