Everyone in the Entertainment Industry Thinks I’m a Flirty Diva [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 26

The man’s slender fingers gently traced the stack of Chu Xi’s documents.

Amid his heartache, Gu Mingjing felt slightly dazed.

The photo on the first page was taken when Chu Xi was eighteen, just entering the entertainment industry. The girl in the picture had bright eyes and radiant teeth, her smile so pure that no one could associate her with the hardships she had endured.

Then his mind flashed to the photos of Chu Xi being bullied, and a trace of fury flickered between Gu Mingjing’s brows.

Assistant Gao, ever perceptive, noticed his boss’s expression and immediately stepped forward, offering to track down the trash who had bullied Miss Chu.

Gu Mingjing didn’t object, merely replying with an “Mm.” As Assistant Gao left, quietly closing the door behind him, Gu Mingjing suddenly realized—he might, perhaps, or most certainly, had developed some inexplicable feelings for this little thing who was so desperate to escape him.

——

At the studio, Fu Bai had been bombarded with messages all day. It was also the first time he learned about Chu Xi’s past, leaving him stunned for a long while before he could process it.

He had always assumed Chu Xi was just a girl from a modest background, blessed with striking looks—a gift from heaven.

Gazing at Chu Xi’s pale face, he finally couldn’t help but ask, “Back then… those people who bullied you—don’t you hate them?”

Chu Xi’s eyes darkened, then she curved her lips downward. “What do you think? But they’re already in prison, so forget it.”

Fu Bai: “Prison???”

Chu Xi hugged a pillow, leaning back on the sofa. “Heard about it last year. They caused trouble at a club and ended up killing someone. They’ll be locked up for ten or twenty years.”

Fu Bai: “………………Alright.”

The hashtag #HeartacheForChuXi# fluctuated on the trending list all day. Both Fu Bai and Chu Xi’s phones were nearly blown up by media calls, but neither answered a single one.

The show We Are Classmates first called, then sent emails, all urging Chu Xi to return and continue filming.

Fu Bai frowned as he read the program team’s email and asked Chu Xi, “They want you back for the show. Are you going?”

Chu Xi hesitated. What she missed most was the school life depicted in the program, but the memory of being abruptly pulled out of evening self-study by the production team and told she was no longer needed was still fresh in her mind.

Too bad she’d never get to attend school in this lifetime. Chu Xi sighed in defeat and shook her head. “No, I won’t go back.”

Fu Bai immediately understood and began typing a reply, fingers flying across the keyboard. “That lousy show deserves to flop. If they don’t want us, we don’t want them either. They kicked you off the moment your reputation took a hit, and now that you’ve turned things around, they want you back? What kind of logic is that? Today you ignore me, tomorrow I’ll make you regret it!”

Chu Xi’s eyebrow twitched at Fu Bai’s emphatic use of “I’ll make you regret it.”

She opened her main Weibo account. Over the past two days, she had gained quite a few followers. Under her post featuring her father’s police badge, the first comment was from the “Chu Xi National Fan Club,” with just two words: “Hugs.”

Beneath it, fans flooded the replies with messages of sympathy.

Chu Xi was touched. Truthfully, she had already moved past that terrible chapter of her life. Having the wound reopened recently brought mostly regret—regret that she hadn’t been able to continue her education.

She also noticed an unusually high number of private messages from non-followers. Clicking into them, she found long, heartfelt messages from strangers online, sharing their own experiences with school bullying.

Such things might sound distant from ordinary life, yet they happen all around us. The fortunate ones manage to move on, but many others are left with scars that never fully heal. People thanked Chu Xi for staying so optimistic and uplifting, encouraging those who had suffered like her to step out of the shadows.

Chu Xi replied to nearly every private message she found, using one word most often: “Fighting!” There had been a time, back when she was forced to drop out, when she had felt so hopeless she considered ending her life. But then her grandmother fell ill, and she started working—rising early each morning to deliver bottled water to households from the water plant on a tricycle. It was during those deliveries that she was discovered by a talent scout.

Soon, fans who had received her replies sent excited messages:

[Ahhhh! Chu Xi actually replied to me!]

[Fighting! We’ll keep getting better and make those who bullied us open their eyes wide and see!]

[I hereby declare that from now on, I am your brick!]

[You actually replied to me, I’m tearing up.jpg. Chu Xi, you’re so good to your fans!]

[Xi Bao, keep going! Even though your sugar daddy dumped you, we still want you! You’re still the best Xi Bao! So what if you wear cheap clothes, join obscure shows, or act in cringe-worthy dramas? As long as you earn your money honestly through hard work, you’re the best! I believe in you!]

Chu Xi: “………………” That sounded so weird.

Now that she wasn’t going back to We Are Classmates, her schedule was wide open again. After sending the email to the show’s production team, Fu Bai started agonizing over what to do with Chu Xi next.

Fu Bai had always wanted to get Chu Xi acting roles, but due to her infamous “rat-dropping” performances in big-budget films—dragging down entire productions—no one wanted to cast her unless Gu Mingjing personally arranged it. After leaving Gu Mingjing, she couldn’t land any roles at all. However, after her background was recently exposed, she gained a lot of sympathy and buzz, attracting several variety shows. Yet, no film or drama offers came her way.

Back when Fu Bai was an assistant working on sets, he’d seen plenty of young actresses in the industry who couldn’t act—staring blankly, pouting, even stumbling over their lines. He felt Chu Xi had been unfairly criticized.

She was so young and beautiful, practically heaven-sent for acting. Sure, she’d been mocked as a “rat-dropping” performer before, but did anyone notice who she’d been acting opposite? All of them were A-list heavyweights in the industry. Chu Xi, a non-professional newcomer, couldn’t possibly keep up with their caliber. And it wasn’t just her—how many young actresses her age could confidently say they wouldn’t be overshadowed by those veterans?

As the saying goes, competence is often measured against peers. But throwing a fresh-faced newcomer into scenes with seasoned actors just to highlight her awkward acting? Fu Bai was starting to suspect Gu Mingjing hadn’t been promoting Chu Xi at all—he’d been setting her up to fail.

Poor Chu Xi. What had she ever done to him at such a young age?

——

Chu Xi’s next gig was confirmed quickly—a guest appearance on Our Little Cabin, a slow-paced variety show by Fruit TV that consistently ranked first in its time slot.

Most of the offers Chu Xi received were from small online shows, so she was genuinely surprised when Our Little Cabin reached out. After asking around, she learned the reason.

Dong Wei, one of the three permanent cast members of Our Little Cabin, had recommended her. They’d previously bonded over punishment drills during Brave Hearts. The production team, seeing Chu Xi’s recent exposure and buzz, agreed to invite her.

Once Chu Xi’s appearance on Our Little Cabin was announced, public interest surged—partly because the show itself was wildly popular, with every guest sparking discussion, and partly because this would be Chu Xi’s first public appearance since everything went down, including her forced exit from her previous regular show.

This appearance was crucial.

Forget everything else—Chu Xi’s backstory was genuinely tragic. The child of martyrs, raised by her grandmother, bullied out of school… No one could mock her high school diploma anymore.

Our Little Cabin was a laid-back show with no intense challenges. The three permanent members lived in a picturesque farmhouse, cooking, chatting, and doing light farm work with their guests. Evenings were especially cozy, with everyone gathered in the yard for dinner and conversation—prime time for emotional moments.

Fans were already flooding the show’s official account with “Chu Xi, stay strong!” and “Chu Xi, don’t cry!”

Would Chu Xi tearfully recount her past on camera? Would she sob while denouncing the online hate she’d endured? Would she cover her face and cry, playing up her tragic backstory to milk sympathy and fully embrace her Innocent White Flower persona? Though, in her case, it wasn’t playing tragic—she was tragic.

Our Little Cabin was pre-recorded, but that didn’t stop locals from occasionally leaking behind-the-scenes glimpses, especially since guests often visited the nearby town for supplies. The show’s official account also posted daily photos of the guests to drive engagement.

Fans of the show and Chu Xi alike were glued to their screens, ready to flood the comments with “My heart goes out to Chu Xi” or “Xi Bao, we’ve got you!” the moment the photos dropped.

Sure enough, on the day of filming, the show’s official account posted the scheduled guest photos.

But as fans prepared to unleash their pre-written sympathy comments, someone noticed something off.

Where was Chu Xi’s tearful, emotional shot?

Not only was there none—where was Chu Xi at all?

Upon closer inspection, the only photo showed a serene countryside scene—a winding cement road, a motorized three-wheeled farm truck piled high with corn, and one of the show’s permanent members, Xiao Xingning, sitting in the back with the corn, looking utterly defeated.

And in the driver’s seat? A woman in a light-colored sun jacket, gripping the handlebars, leaning slightly forward, her hair ruffled by the wind as she stared ahead with determination.

Fans: “………………”

All their prepped comments—“Hang in there!”, “Hugs!”, “Stay strong!”, “Don’t cry!”—suddenly felt impossible to post.

The mysterious antics of female celebrities.

——

In City B, Gu Mingjing stepped out of the Gu family estate. He visited his father weekly, though most of the time, the two men sat in silence. Sometimes they shared a meal; other times, he left after a brief stay.

His driver pulled up smoothly, and Assistant Gao opened the car door for him.

Gu Mingjing sat in the back seat of the car while Assistant Gao occupied the passenger seat.

The interior of the vehicle was quiet, save for the faint hum of the engine.

Gu Mingjing put away his phone and suddenly turned his gaze toward the middle-aged driver at the wheel.

The driver felt a chill run down his spine under the piercing stare from behind. When he glanced in the rearview mirror, his eyes met Gu Mingjing’s directly.

“Mr. Gu…” The driver had no idea why Gu Mingjing was suddenly looking at him. He quickly averted his eyes from his boss and focused on the road ahead, driving with unease.

Gu Mingjing studied the honest-looking middle-aged driver and abruptly asked, “Can you drive a tricycle?”

The driver nearly lost his grip on the steering wheel: “???”

What? Mr. Gu was asking him if he could drive a tricycle?

Here he was, driving a luxury car worth millions, and his boss was inquiring about tricycles?

Is this how the minds of the wealthy work?

“N-no, I can’t,” the driver answered truthfully, utterly baffled by the question.

Gu Mingjing said nothing. The car remained silent.

Only Assistant Gao in the passenger seat seemed to grasp something upon hearing Gu Mingjing’s seemingly random question to the driver and shook his head slightly.

Mr. Gu was experiencing his first love.