Everyone in the Entertainment Industry Thinks I’m a Flirty Diva [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 5

Grandma Chu had a habit of napping after lunch, and Aunt Chen, hired to care for the elderly woman, was dozing off as well. The small house was quiet. Chu Xi retreated to her room—even though she rarely stayed there, it was always kept spotless.

She checked the balances of all her accounts.

Over the past two years, though the movies and dramas she starred in were all funded by Gu Mingjing, she had still received nominal payments. Over time, the money had accumulated into a considerable sum.

There were plenty of elderly care facilities now, and this money would be enough to ensure Grandma Chu lived comfortably after her death.

But something about the money unsettled her. It wasn’t so much payment for acting as it was payment for being Gu Mingjing’s mistress. She had only been his mistress for two years before karma struck, leaving her with little time left. The money she had earned this way—tainted, ill-gotten—felt wrong.

Staring at the bank cards, Chu Xi wrestled with herself before finally making a decision. She gathered them all, locked them in a drawer, and resolved not to use them unless absolutely necessary.

This was money earned as a mistress—unlawful, unclean.

But if she didn’t use Gu Mingjing’s money, where else could she earn any?

Gu Mingjing not only withdrew all the PR support for her but also cut off all her resources. Her new movie, originally scheduled to start filming next month, was now undoubtedly doomed. After much deliberation, Chu Xi dialed a number.

It was Fu Bai, the assistant assigned to her by her original agency when she first debuted. The two had gotten along well back then, and even after Chu Xi was signed by Gu Mingjing, they had maintained contact, remaining on good terms. Chu Xi knew Fu Bai had recently transitioned from being an assistant to starting his own studio, becoming a manager.

It had been a while since they last spoke. As Chu Xi listened to the dial tone, her heart pounded with nervousness.

The call connected after three rings. “Chu Xi? Is that you?”

Chu Xi tightened her grip on the phone. “It’s me.”

Fu Bai gasped upon hearing her voice. “What’s going on?! How did that kind of news about you break out? What about Gu Mingjing? And those replies to the anti-fans—was it Yao Yu who responded for you? Is she out of her mind?”

Chu Xi knew he was referring to the incident where the elderly man was mistaken for her sugar daddy and she personally clapped back at the anti-fans. She took a deep breath and said, “Fu Bai, my contract with Gu Mingjing has expired.”

“Do you have any acting or variety show resources under you? Can you help me? I need money.”

After a brief exchange, Chu Xi didn’t mention she only had six months left. She simply said her contract with Gu Mingjing had ended amicably, and she was now a free agent looking to hire him as her manager to secure gigs. She had no special requirements—just legitimate opportunities with good pay.

Fu Bai hesitated. “It’s not that I don’t want to help, but our studio is just starting out. We don’t have high-quality resources. You… probably wouldn’t be interested.” Under Gu Mingjing, Chu Xi had starred in big-budget films and TV dramas and appeared on hit variety shows. How could she possibly settle for the scraps their small studio could offer?

Chu Xi quickly replied, “It’s fine! I’ll take excavator commercials, pig feed ads—anything. Please, I’m serious.”

Fu Bai couldn’t help but chuckle at the mention of pig feed ads before sighing. “Alright. Our studio is looking to sign talent anyway. Someone with your fame is definitely better than unknowns. I’ll keep an eye out for you, and we’ll split the earnings per the management contract.”

“Thank you, Fu Bai!” Chu Xi hung up, relieved.

After her morning clash with the anti-fans, Chu Xi had avoided checking public reactions. Now, after the call with Fu Bai, she decided to open Weibo.

“Chu Xi Sugar Daddy” still dominated the top trending spot.

Chu Xi found it darkly amusing. In the past, her trending topics had been bought. Yet on her very first day without Gu Mingjing, she had made it there on her own. Her clarification post was dismissed as a cover-up, and her retorts to the anti-fans were seen as lashing out in shame. Why couldn’t people think logically? If that elderly man really were her sugar daddy, the trending searches would’ve been taken down long ago.

Look at Gu Mingjing, the real sugar daddy—has he ever exposed even a single strand of hair in the past two years?

The morning’s clarification Weibo post had been too hastily written. Chu Xi shut herself in her room, carefully studying her own PR statement.

PR statements for celebrities embroiled in scandals were usually drafted by specialized PR teams within their management companies. But she no longer had a management team now, so the PR statement had to be written by herself. Chu Xi gnawed on the end of her pen, searching for exemplary PR statements from other celebrities to reference.

There were statements for affairs, drug scandals, even being caught urinating in public—each one brilliantly crafted.

After half a day, Chu Xi had only managed to write 200 words. Staring at the text, she scratched her head in frustration.

If only she could find the old man from yesterday evening.

But they had only crossed paths by chance. She didn’t even know his name, and in the photos, the old man’s face was barely visible. Elderly folks didn’t follow entertainment news—he might not even know about the incident. Even if he recognized himself in the photos, what ordinary person would want to get involved in the murky waters of the entertainment industry?

Chu Xi gritted her teeth and forced herself to keep writing the PR statement.

Even if she was going down, she refused to be slandered like this.

Time flew when she was focused. By the time Chu Xi looked up again, it was almost dark outside.

Aunt Chen called her from outside to come out for dinner.

Chu Xi hadn’t finished her PR statement yet and replied, “Just a sec, I’ll be right there~”

Aunt Chen called three times, and each time, Chu Xi gave the same answer. Finally, Grandma Chu lost her patience and knocked on Chu Xi’s door. “Nian Nian, come out and eat.”

Only then did Chu Xi put down her pen and step out.

Dinner was already set on the table, and the TV in the living room was still on.

Chu Xi glanced at it—Aunt Chen’s favorite local news program, 1919 Golden Eye, was playing.

An old man with a receding hairline, a beer belly, and a thick gold chain appeared on the screen, indignantly speaking into the reporter’s microphone: “Outrageous! Absolutely outrageous!”

“Yesterday afternoon, I went out for a walk and accidentally twisted my ankle. That kind young lady helped me cross the street—who knew it would lead to all this nonsense!” The camera panned down to the old man’s feet, where he wore slippers, his ankle wrapped in white gauze.

“At the time, I even told her she was pretty and kind, just like a celebrity on TV. Who knew she actually was a celebrity! This morning, my youngest daughter was looking at the news on her phone and said the person in the photo looked a lot like her dad from behind. I thought, ‘How could that be me?’ But when I took a closer look—hey! That is me!”

“These media outlets nowadays just spout nonsense! It doesn’t matter that I’m just some old man nobody knows, but to twist that young lady’s good deed into something so ugly—where’s the justice in that? We’re just ordinary folks, and we don’t know what to do. But we can’t let an innocent girl suffer like this, can we? So I called you guys to set the record straight.” The old man planted his hands on his hips, a chunky gold watch gleaming on his wrist, his mustache bristling with anger.

The cameraman then gave him a shot from behind—sure enough, he was the spitting image of Chu Xi’s so-called “sugar daddy” in the photos.

Chu Xi stood in front of the TV, rice bowl in hand, eyes unblinking as she watched the entire segment.

She didn’t know how she managed to wait until after dinner to check her phone. The PR statement she’d spent all afternoon writing hadn’t even been posted yet when she found herself trending again.

“Chu Xi on 1919 Golden Eye.”

Netizens who had spent the day feasting on the scandal of Chu Xi’s alleged sugar daddy were shocked to discover it was all fake. Turns out Chu Xi really had been helping an elderly man with mobility issues cross the street. No matter how much the old man dressed like a nouveau riche, he was still just an elderly gentleman.

With this sudden plot twist, the atmosphere became rather awkward.

Chu Xi had been ridiculed mercilessly all day – what now?

Public opinion shifts faster than flipping a page. Those same people who had been cursing Chu Xi earlier were now singing a different tune: “Someone as pure, kind, and beautiful as Chu Xi – so delicate she wouldn’t even raise her voice – must be devastated after being maliciously speculated about all day. My heart aches for her.”

“I’m starting to believe Chu Xi really is that innocent white flower. When wronged, she probably wouldn’t even know how to fight back.”

“To think there really are such pure, kind fairies in the entertainment industry who help elderly cross the street.”

The thought of such an innocent white flower being attacked by anti-fans made everyone furious. They rushed to Chu Xi’s Weibo, intending to leave comforting comments under her morning clarification post, only to discover she had already personally responded.

Several hate comments appeared below, all directly rebutted by Chu Xi using her official account.

The most upvoted negative comment:

[Am I the only one who thinks Chu Xi isn’t that pretty? Her face is actually quite ugly.]

Actress Chu Xi: [With that pig-like appearance of yours, you dare call me ugly? Tell me, are you even qualified?]

This… this sharp, savage comeback – wasn’t she supposed to be the delicate white flower who wouldn’t even speak loudly?

The shocked netizens dropped their metaphorical melons once again.

——

Chu Xi never expected the elderly gentleman would personally come forward to clarify. Deeply moved, she specifically called the “1919 Golden Eye” program team to get the man’s phone number so she could thank him properly.

The old man was delighted to hear from Chu Xi: “No need for thanks! This is what I should do. You’re the one who helped me – if I let you suffer because of this, wouldn’t I be a complete scoundrel?”

“Keep going, young lady! Our whole family are now your die-hard fans. Keep it up!”

Hearing the words “die-hard fans” even made Chu Xi’s eyes sting. How wonderful – she finally had genuine fans too.

Chu Xi: “Thank you. I wish you good health.”

“Will do!” The old man’s laughter was hearty and bright.

As Chu Xi hung up, she received another message from Fu Bai on WeChat.

Fu Bai’s small studio indeed had limited resources, with no scripts on hand—only a few minor online variety shows.

One was a reality dating show featuring celebrities, though in reality, the participants were all internet influencers. Another was a celebrity dance competition, and the last was a military experience program where six celebrities would immerse themselves in frontline troops, living and training alongside soldiers in a real military setting.

The first two shows were quite obscure, but Chu Xi was surprised by the military experience program. It was a new production by Goose Factory, and while its success was uncertain, being a Goose Factory project already set it apart from the other two in terms of scale.

Fu Bai seemed to anticipate Chu Xi’s confusion and sent a message explaining that the male guest slots for the military show were already filled—what the production team struggled with was finding female participants. The show had an original version from a neighboring country where female guests endured grueling conditions. Set in a military camp, they couldn’t wear makeup and had to complete tasks alongside male soldiers, including intense challenges like 10-kilometer weighted marches. After watching the original, most established female celebrities had politely declined the invitation.

The mere idea of going makeup-free was a dealbreaker for many actresses. If it were pre-recorded, they could at least rely on post-production filters, but the show was broadcast live, leaving no room for hiding imperfections.

With no actresses willing to join, the production team was desperate, which was how Fu Bai’s studio ended up with this opportunity.

Chu Xi bit her lip and asked about the fees for each show.

The military program, backed by a major platform, offered the highest pay, followed by the dating show.

Fu Bai: “Maybe consider the dating show? I think it suits you well, and the pay is decent.”

Chu Xi thought of the bank cards she had locked away.

She wanted to earn money on her own—clean money, as much as possible—to leave for her grandmother after she was gone.

Chu Xi: “Can I take the military show instead?”

She knew Fu Bai’s concerns and added: “It’s fine. I’m not afraid.”

…

Not long after, Goose Factory’s large-scale military experience program Brave Heart released its character posters.

Five male guests spanned from rising idols to seasoned actors, covering various age groups—and one female guest, positioned prominently at the center of the poster.

The woman in the center had a neat, short haircut, delicate features, and a resolute gaze.

The short hair looked convincing, but a real military experience was no joke—just which actress had the guts for this?

Was it action star Li Meiqi? Or former national judo champion turned entertainer Zhao Yuefei? Maybe the production team had even recruited an athlete. After all, which delicate, sunscreen-obsessed actress—unlike male stars who often cultivate tough personas—would willingly endure such hardship? This wasn’t some lighthearted outdoor variety show where the challenges were just for show.

Curious viewers zoomed in on the poster, and upon recognizing the central female guest’s face, they were stunned.

What?!

Chu—Chu Xi had lost her mind!