Everyone in the Entertainment Industry Thinks I’m a Flirty Diva [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 40
At the film set of Peach Blossom Promise, shooting hadn’t officially started yet. Chu Xi sat in her designated folding chair, holding her script and reading intently.
He Feng approached her with a smile, script in hand, asking to rehearse lines with her.
Chu Xi looked up at him. “Oh, sure.”
Since the incident, many people on set had changed their attitude toward her. The makeup artists paid more attention to her looks, the lighting crew adjusted her lighting more meticulously, and even the lunchbox uncle added an extra chicken drumstick to her meal.
Now even He Feng stopped playing games with Xia Qiao and actively sought her out to rehearse lines.
Chu Xi, however, wasn’t used to this kind of special treatment. She even felt like grabbing the set’s loudspeaker and shouting, “Can’t you see? There’s no romantic relationship between me and your investor daddy! It’s just a celebrity-fan relationship! Sucking up to me is useless!”
Just as she was about to do so, the set’s accountant, grinning like a blooming flower, appeared—the investor had just poured in another massive sum of money.
“………………”
Forget it. Chu Xi could only console herself with the thought that filming was already in its final stages and would wrap up soon. Next time she took on a project, she’d make sure to check whether Gu Mingjing was involved in the investment first.
After rehearsing with Chu Xi, He Feng seemed eager to chat, but when she showed no interest, he left. Chu Xi took out her colored pens and began marking up her script.
She still went to the small park near the hotel every morning to practice her lines. Over time, the elderly regulars who came for morning exercises got to know her. They’d greet her and ask if she was an actor filming at the nearby studio. When Chu Xi confirmed, they’d immediately give her a thumbs-up. “Actors as dedicated as you are rare these days. Even in those war dramas, some just muddle through their roles.”
Today was one of the rare scenes where she and Xia Qiao had to act opposite each other, both with long stretches of dialogue. Xia Qiao had hardly paid Chu Xi any attention before Gu Mingjing appeared, and after his arrival, her glances became even less friendly. Fortunately, they didn’t have many solo scenes together in the entire drama, so they had managed to coexist peacefully so far.
Xia Qiao had been nowhere to be seen all day, only showing up right before filming was about to begin.
Chu Xi, prioritizing the quality of the shoot, still wanted to rehearse lines with her, but once again, the response was, “Just go through them with my assistant.”
Frustrated, Chu Xi turned and walked away.
The director, Chen, had already briefed her on today’s scene, and she had memorized her lines. The entire crew was waiting for Xia Qiao to finish touch-ups, so Chu Xi returned to her seat and checked her phone, browsing her fan support group.
Chu Xi sensed something odd—her fan group seemed unusually secretive today. Were they hiding something from her?
But she remembered that the group’s moderators had been handpicked by Fu Bai—responsible, dedicated, and guaranteed to be her true fans.
From the chat logs, she vaguely gathered that her national fan club had blocked someone.
Oh, just blocking someone? Chu Xi relaxed—no big deal.
Meanwhile, under the set lights, the lighting crew was making adjustments.
Standing under the lights were two girls dressed in identical costumes to Chu Xi and Xia Qiao—their stand-ins, testing the lighting for them.
This wasn’t about professionalism or lack thereof. With the complexities of production, sometimes multiple units filmed simultaneously, leaving actors stretched thin. So, lead actors in most productions had stand-ins to help with pre-shoot positioning and lighting tests, freeing them up to rehearse lines or discuss scenes with the director.
After resting for a while, Chu Xi noticed Xia Qiao had finally finished her touch-ups and was already waiting in front of the camera. It was usually others waiting for Xia Qiao, but today, for once, the tables had turned. Chu Xi hurried over.
They quickly ran through their positions, and filming began.
Surprisingly, today’s shoot went smoothly. Chu Xi delivered her lines with emotional depth, showing significant improvement—Director Chen’s approving gaze said it all. Even Xia Qiao didn’t forget a single line. Though her performance style remained as rigid as ever, it passed the director’s standards, and they wrapped up the scene in just a few takes.
Chu Xi was relieved that her scenes with Xia Qiao had gone well—this was practically their last solo scene together in the entire drama. Finally, no more acting opposite her.
She had learned a lot from this project, with both Director Chen and Li Yuanxin imparting invaluable lessons. Fu Bai had already started lining up post-“Peach Blossom Promise” schedules for her.
Wrapping up late, Chu Xi returned to her hotel, took a shower, and was drying her hair when she noticed missed calls on her phone.
From Fu Bai.
What was it about?
Opening WeChat, she saw several messages from him—screenshots from gossip and entertainment accounts on Weibo.
“Acting like a diva and slacking off! Chu Xi plays on her phone on set, using a stand-in to rehearse with Xia Qiao!”
Chu Xi was stunned. The posts even included photos—all taken on set today.
One photo showed Chu Xi sitting on a lounge chair with her head down, playing with her phone. Another showed Xia Qiao standing under the set lights holding a script, talking to a girl dressed exactly like Chu Xi—clearly her stunt double. In the photo with the double, Xia Qiao’s makeup was flawless, her expression focused, making the girl standing in for Chu Xi pale in comparison.
Several gossip and entertainment accounts posted these photos together, making it hard not to believe the narrative they were pushing.
Xia Qiao’s fans, as if tipped off in advance, swarmed the comment sections alongside some casual onlookers, instantly taking over.
[Does Chu Xi think just because her investor is a fanboy, she can throw her weight around on set however she pleases?]
[What kind of big name is she even to act so entitled?]
[Playing with her phone again, still the same old behavior. No matter how many roles she takes, she’ll never improve—ruining movies wasn’t enough, now she’s coming for TV dramas.]
[And here I thought she’d actually start working hard after her sugar daddy dumped her. How blind I was.]
[Dumped? Her current fanboy is Gu Mingjing—why would she need to work hard? Why bother acting properly?]
[I heard after the whole Gu Mingjing incident, the entire crew has been kissing up to her. If things don’t go her way, she throws tantrums and refuses to shoot. Makeup artists and lighting crews revolve around her alone—even her lunchbox is better than everyone else’s!]
[What’s the point of looking the part? Is the director blind? Casting Chu Xi as the seductive concubine—does he want to ruin the whole show?]
[Quietly adding… Xia Qiao looks stunning. A girl who takes her work seriously is the most beautiful.]
[Xia Qiao has always been professional. It must be exhausting for her to put up with acting opposite Chu Xi’s stunt double without losing her temper. Anyone else would’ve thrown the script and walked off.]
…
Chu Xi was so furious she nearly threw her phone.
Who was the one always showing up late and acting like a diva? Who was the one sending her assistant to run lines with others? No wonder Xia Qiao had been in front of the camera before her today—she was “rehearsing” with Chu Xi’s stunt double!
Her loyal fans had already started rallying to control the narrative, barely managing to suppress the worst comments, but the backlash kept growing in waves.
Chu Xi gritted her teeth.
She could tolerate people criticizing her acting or bad reputation—she knew her past performances were terrible. If Xia Qiao wanted to hype her own professionalism, fine, Chu Xi didn’t have the energy to care. But dragging her into this, spreading baseless rumors, twisting the truth, and playing the victim? That was beyond infuriating.
Yet without proof, she couldn’t just outright say, “You’re the one always late and acting like a diva!” She needed evidence.
She couldn’t just grab someone from the crew to testify against Xia Qiao—no one would believe it. After all, the photos showed Xia Qiao diligently rehearsing with Chu Xi’s double. And given Chu Xi’s own shaky reputation, empty accusations wouldn’t convince anyone.
Chu Xi was tempted to roll up her sleeves and confront Xia Qiao right then and there.
She probably saw that “Peach Blossom Promise” was nearing its wrap-up and decided to tear off all pretenses with this move.
Time to strategize.
——
Although Gu Mingjing’s main account wasn’t added to the Brick Brigade, his alt account had long been part of it. At tonight’s gathering with friends, he was mercilessly teased about getting blocked on his main account.
“HAHAHAHAHA poor little thing, her fans are really that bold? HAHAHAHAHA”
Gu Mingjing kicked his friend with a dark expression. “Shut up.”
His friend clutched his stomach, struggling to hold back laughter.
Gu Mingjing didn’t mention that he had an alt account already in the group. When he got home and opened Weibo, he was immediately tagged in the task force’s messages.
[Emergency assembly! Quick, go defend Xi Bao in the comments—she can’t be harmed by these villains!]
[Believe in Xi Bao. She promised us all she’d act well—those two photos prove nothing. Someone’s clearly trying to smear her.]
[Xi Bao only has us now. Let’s do our best! We can control this!]
Gu Mingjing frowned slightly and followed the links shared in the Brick Brigade to the trending posts by marketing accounts.
His lips tightened. Did the studio running these accounts want to be turned into a pig farm?
He was about to call Assistant Gao to have the posts taken down immediately, but as he flipped to his contacts, he paused.
He recalled the fan leader’s words: “Xi Bao only has us now.”
In the past, no matter how harsh the criticism was after a movie release or how much backlash Chu Xi faced for her white lotus act on variety shows, he had always managed to clean up the negative comments, leaving the surface calm and peaceful.
But that suppression of public frustration—where people couldn’t vent without their words being deleted—had built up over time. After Chu Xi broke up with him and the deletions stopped, the pent-up resentment exploded, and she was torn apart online.
If he intervened now, he’d just be repeating the same stifling tactics.
Besides, the past was the past. Back then, Chu Xi’s acting had genuinely been poor. But this time, recalling her performance on set, Gu Mingjing knew something was fishy.
His role shouldn’t be to silence criticism but to do something else.
He thought of the woman who had tried to hitch a ride with him at the hotel entrance, claiming she was late—what was her name again? Xia something?
Soon, a few surveillance videos surfaced online.
They appeared to be from the entrance of the “Peach Blossom Promise” crew’s hotel, with timestamps in the corner showing when actors left the premises.
At 7:30 a.m., Li Yuanxin and other actors were boarding the shuttle bus.
At 8:30 a.m., sometimes 9:00 a.m. or even later, Xia Qiao would yawn and emerge with her assistant.
People began searching for Chu Xi. Where was she? Why hadn’t she been seen leaving?
Finally, at 6:20 a.m., they spotted Chu Xi walking out alone with her bag.
Everyone: ?
Why was she leaving so early?