Everyone in the Entertainment Industry Thinks I’m a Flirty Diva [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 34

In the CEO’s office of Yuanjing Tower, Assistant Gao glanced at Gu Mingjing, who sat in his chair with a darkened expression, glaring at his phone.

The notoriously low-profile, elusive heir of the Gu family and newly appointed CEO of Yuanjing—who had even declined text interviews with journalists—had made his first appearance in the news.

Yet, it wasn’t under any of those prestigious titles. In fact, he was so pitifully unnamed that the entertainment reporters had only labeled him with one phrase: “Chu Xi’s little wolf dog.”

But that wasn’t even the most dramatic part. The real kicker was the follow-up line—”whining for a kiss, only to be brutally rejected.” HAHAHAHAHA!

What kind of geniuses were these entertainment reporters? No—absolute legends!

Assistant Gao nearly burst out laughing at the thought, but one look at Gu Mingjing’s thunderous expression forced him, as a professional assistant, to suppress it.

Holding back laughter was truly agonizing.

To be fair, he couldn’t blame the reporters. If he hadn’t known a thing or two about the tangled web of love and grudges between President Gu and Miss Chu, even he wouldn’t have connected the man who waited two hours late at night in some ordinary residential area—only to be mercilessly rejected—with the aloof and noble Gu Mingjing.

If even he couldn’t make the connection, how could the paparazzi?

In the past, paparazzi had indeed captured photos of Gu Mingjing and Chu Xi, but Gu Mingjing had always bought them off. Later, when the paparazzi vaguely learned of his identity, they realized that him purchasing the photos was already a gesture of politeness—it would have been nothing for him to buy out their entire company and turn it into a fish farm.

This time, it was clear that some paparazzi had been staking out Chu Xi’s apartment building daily. After a long wait, they finally spotted a man. The streetlights were dim at night, making it hard to see his face clearly, but his figure was undeniably striking. He waited downstairs for nearly an hour before Chu Xi

On the other side, in the studio, Chu Xi was nursing a headache over this damn scandal.

So what if they took sneaky photos? But that headline—how could these entertainment reporters have so little professional ethics these days!

And another thing—since when did that old man Gu Mingjing look anything like a “little wolf dog”?

Fu Bai flipped through the stolen photos over and over, practically examining them with a magnifying glass. After confirming it wasn’t the male model from their studio, it seemed it really was Gu Mingjing.

Chu Xi nudged Fu Bai, her face full of worry. “What should we do?”

The comments under that news article were already unbearable to read.

Some said it was clearly a lovers’ quarrel and that Chu Xi was in a relationship.

Others argued the photographer had tricky angles and irresponsible captions—how could they prove he waited two hours? How could they prove it was a coquettish demand for a kiss? What if they were just ordinary friends?

But most people believed that after being dumped by her greasy sugar daddy, she’d found herself a handsome “little wolf dog” to let loose and heal the trauma from two years with that oily, balding sponsor.

As for Chu Xi’s die-hard fans, they were quite laid-back. Female celebrities’ dating scandals didn’t affect fans as much as male stars’ did. After all she’d suffered before, they just hoped she’d find a good man. The guy in the photo didn’t seem bad—his aura was decent, at least passable for their beloved Chu Xi.

Fu Bai sighed. “What can we do? He’s not really your boyfriend, so we just deny it.”

Chu Xi asked, “No response at all?”

Fu Bai nodded.

The entertainment industry had many PR tactics, and sometimes silence was one of them. With photos out and the scandal already blown up, outright denial wouldn’t work. The best approach was to stay still and adapt—no response. After a couple days of discussion, the hype would die down. At worst, people might remember Chu Xi had a secret “little wolf dog.” Besides, which rising starlet didn’t have some gossip attached to her name?

If Chu Xi’s side wasn’t responding, then Gu Mingjing’s side…

Would be even less likely to make a move.

This scandal had nothing to do with him except for his appearance in the photos. No one even suspected him. So why would the noble, aloof, low-profile CEO Gu, who never showed his face publicly, come forward to admit anything? To confirm he was the “little wolf dog waiting pitifully for two hours”? Or to acknowledge he “whined for a kiss and got rejected”?

Still, just to be safe, Chu Xi called Gu Mingjing.

It was the first time she’d called him since their breakup.

Chu Xi knew she was in the wrong, so she spoke hesitantly, but her point was clear: she planned not to respond, so please don’t respond either. His face wasn’t clear in the photos anyway—no one knew who he was. Even the paparazzi who knew what he looked like didn’t believe it was him, so the public certainly wouldn’t think it was her ex-sugar daddy. And… if he stepped forward now, it would mean admitting he was her “little wolf dog,” which he surely wouldn’t want, right?

Gu Mingjing took a deep breath after hearing this.

So in this scandal, he didn’t even deserve to have a name.

——

Chu Xi didn’t respond, and the news about the “little wolf dog’s coquettish kiss demand ending in rejection” gradually died down.

She locked herself at home, reviewing all the film and TV materials she had gathered, filling an entire notebook with notes about the seductive concubine Liuli. Previously, she had always been rushed from one film set to another. This was the first time she had the opportunity to pause and truly reflect on her character.

Since Chu Xi’s scenes weren’t many, by the time she joined the production, The Peach Blossom Promise had already been filming for some days. On set, Chu Xi met the drama’s lead actors. The female lead was Xia Qiao, a rising young actress who was known in the industry as a wealthy heiress—her family owned a listed company, and she had the reputation of someone who would have to return to inherit the family business if she didn’t focus on acting. The male lead was He Feng, a popular idol actor specializing in historical romance dramas. Additionally, Chu Xi met the actor with whom she had the most scenes—Li Yuanxin, who played the foolish emperor of the Great Zhou Kingdom. He Feng’s character was the imperial prince, the emperor’s half-brother. The foolish emperor was infatuated with Chu Xi’s character, the seductive concubine Liuli, neglecting state affairs and indulging in wine and women, completely under her control.

Meanwhile, deep down, Liuli harbored feelings for the emperor’s younger brother—the male lead, the prince. After seeing the prince and the female lead together, her love turned to hatred. Adopting a mindset of “if I can’t be happy, neither can you,” she used the foolish emperor’s authority to create numerous obstacles for the couple.

When Chu Xi first read the script and saw this tangled love triangle, her head spun. But idol dramas thrived on such melodrama—the more over-the-top the plot, the more thrilling it was, and the more audiences loved it.

Chu Xi greeted Li Yuanxin, who played the foolish emperor. In his thirties and already married with children, he was quite amiable off-camera. Then, she took her script and went to rehearse lines with Xia Qiao.

Chu Xi’s first scene in the production was with the female lead, Xia Qiao. In the drama, the female lead was a modern woman who had traveled back in time, and her romance with the male lead followed the classic “domineering prince falls for me” trope—making her the sworn enemy of the seductive concubine, who loved the prince.

Chu Xi had often rehearsed with big-name actors in the past. When she found Xia Qiao, the actress was sitting with He Feng, engrossed in a mobile game. Hearing Chu Xi say she had come to rehearse, Xia Qiao glanced up at her.

“Pfft.” Xia Qiao suddenly burst out laughing.

Chu Xi was baffled by the laughter, though it made her uneasy. Biting her lip, she repeated, “Xia Qiao, we have a scene together this afternoon. If you’re free now, let’s run through our lines.”

“Hurry up, we’re about to lose!” urged He Feng, who was teamed up with Xia Qiao in the game. The two had previously worked together on another drama and were familiar with each other, making their on-screen chemistry seamless.

“Coming, coming!” Xia Qiao immediately returned to the game. Without looking up, she said, “Why don’t you rehearse with my assistant? She can stand in for me.”

Chu Xi: “Y-your assistant?”

Xia Qiao’s assistant stood up and said, “I’ll rehearse with you.”

“Ah,” Chu Xi was taken aback for a moment, then glanced down at the two people still engrossed in their game.

“Forget it, no need.” Chu Xi turned and walked away.

She faintly overheard their conversation.

“Damn, so she actually rehearses her scenes? I thought she never bothered, hahahahaha!”

“Even if you rehearse with her, it’s a waste of time. After ruining so many resources her former sugar daddy poured into her, now she’s coming to ruin our production. Just look at the cast list—she’s the biggest turnoff. No idea what the director was thinking.”

“Heard she recently kept a young toy boy too, hahahaha. Must be trying to balance her frustrations from being a long-term mistress by keeping a boytoy, hahahaha!”

“Hey, stop talking! Someone’s over there! Hurry up, I’m about to die in the game!”

…

Chu Xi’s eyes reddened.

She numbly returned to her seat, head bowed, saying nothing.

“Xi Xi, what’s wrong?” Assistant Xiao Yan had just returned with water and immediately noticed Chu Xi’s low spirits.

Since Chu Xi joined the production, Fu Bai couldn’t accompany her as both manager and assistant, so he hired Xiao Yan—a reliable and diligent assistant.

“Nothing.” Chu Xi sniffled and opened her script.

Li Yuanxin, who played the decadent emperor, saw Chu Xi go to Xia Qiao’s side and return dejected. Though he didn’t know what was said, it clearly affected her mood.

He could guess what had happened.

Li Yuanxin sighed. The entertainment industry was brutally realistic—countless people were arrogant behind the scenes. Having acted for over a decade, though never achieving major fame, he’d worked with all types.

In the past, cast members got along harmoniously, showing mutual respect while making a living. But the younger generation nowadays increasingly fawned on the powerful and looked down on the weak.

Li Yuanxin pulled up a chair beside Chu Xi. “Shall we rehearse together?”