Everyone in the Entertainment Industry Thinks I’m a Flirty Diva [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 51

Chu Xi blinked at him. “Huh?”

Gu Mingjing leaned in slowly, and she instinctively leaned back.

She neither consented nor refused, simply sitting there as the man drew closer, his breath audible.

Gu Mingjing had already closed his eyes.

Just before their lips could meet, Chu Xi suddenly huffed and pushed him away. “No way.”

She immediately turned to yank the car door open and escape—only to find that no matter how hard she pulled, the door wouldn’t budge.

Frustrated, she glanced back at Gu Mingjing with a deep glare.

The man had somehow locked the doors without her noticing.

A faint smirk played on his lips as he leaned in again.

Chu Xi: Oh crap, miscalculation.

——

Chu Xi didn’t dare tell Fu Bai about her “promotion” of Gu Mingjing to underground boyfriend status. For now, only the two of them, plus Assistant Gao, knew—three people in total.

Feeling extremely guilty, Chu Xi even forbade Gu Mingjing from publicly declaring himself as her “boyfriend fan” anymore. She also banned him from doing anything as foolish and high-profile as spending 200,000 yuan on sanitary pads like before. “Our relationship must not affect my career, and you’re not allowed to interfere with it either. No complaining, no dissatisfaction—what more do you want when you, a mere boyfriend fan, have already secretly been promoted to an actual boyfriend?”

Though unhappy about being forced into an underground relationship, Gu Mingjing had no choice but to comply under Chu Xi’s domineering pressure.

Since he could no longer openly fawn over her as before, rumors gradually began to circulate:

Had Gu Mingjing…

…stopped being a fan?

He must have. Last time, when Chu Xi was embroiled in dating rumors with Yan Zhun, many had tagged Gu Mingjing, but as a heartbroken “boyfriend fan,” his silence was understandable. However, even after Chu Xi clarified that Yan Zhun was merely her manager, while her loyal “brick fans” flooded social media with posts expressing their belief in her, Gu Mingjing—her staunchest “boyfriend fan”—still didn’t celebrate or publicly declare his trust in her.

Thus, there could only be one explanation: Gu Mingjing had quietly stopped being a fan the moment the rumors about Chu Xi and Yan Zhun surfaced.

And really, even if the rumors were later debunked, who could say for sure whether the statement was genuine? While most believed the clarification, many fans still abandoned ship the moment the scandal broke. For fans—especially the most possessive and combative “boyfriend fan”—the idea of their idol being linked to another man was intolerable. Even if it was later proven false, the damage was done. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” they’d say, and once a “boyfriend fan” quit, they never came back.

Fu Bai wasn’t the least bit interested in whether Gu Mingjing had stopped being a fan. As long as his studio hadn’t been turned into a poultry farm or foot massage parlor, he was satisfied. Instead, he proudly informed Chu Xi that he had secured her an excellent fashion opportunity—

A photoshoot and exclusive interview for the supplement of Yue Xiu, China’s most prestigious high-end fashion magazine.

Yue Xiu was an international heavyweight; its main issues featured either supermodels or established A-list actresses, making it inaccessible to most. Even the supplement slots were fiercely contested by rising starlets vying for a foothold in the fashion world.

The fashion industry was glamorous yet notoriously cutthroat, deeply intertwined with endorsements that dictated a female celebrity’s financial and social standing. Those who thrived in fashion naturally attracted brand partnerships—if not full-fledged endorsements, then at least invitations as “brand friends” and access to haute couture gowns for events. It was a battlefield no one could afford to ignore.

Fortunately, though Fu Bai’s studio lacked strong film and TV resources, his connections in fashion weren’t bad—thanks to the models he managed. That was how he managed to snag the coveted spot for Chu Xi amidst fierce competition.

Chu Xi had once graced the cover of one of the top four fashion magazines before. It was right after she signed with Gu Mingjing when his management team pulled strings to push her onto it. However, when the cover was released, it caused an uproar. Leaving aside how an unknown, low-tier actress like her could land the cover—clearly undeserving—her photoshoot itself was ridiculed for its lack of fashion sense, resembling the tacky style of rural photo studios. Her demeanor reeked of pettiness, unfit for such a prestigious platform, and the mockery lasted a long time. That issue ended up being the magazine’s worst-selling edition since its inception.

After that, Chu Xi never appeared in magazines again. Even when her management suggested magazine features to promote her films, she always refused. While she couldn’t reject major obligations, small matters like photoshoots were within her control—Gu Mingjing never interfered.

Chu Xi recalled her first magazine cover shoot. She had just debuted, barely accustomed to wearing high heels, stumbling every few steps. In the studio, she was stuffed into ill-fitting outfits of unknown value and forced to pose under the scorching glare of studio lights.

She never liked being photographed—her phone barely had any selfies. The photographer, flaunting a pretentious manner, kept directing her into one awkward pose after another. Standing before the lens under so many eyes for the first time, she felt utterly exposed, stiffly mimicking the poses while tension plastered her face, frozen in fear and unease.

Her limbs, though positioned as instructed, still looked rigid and absurdly unnatural. She saw her team’s indifferent expressions and the magazine staff’s barely concealed smirks. The photographer frowned, shaking his head with that same affected gesture.

She didn’t know how she made it through that day, only that she hid and cried afterward. That night, Gu Mingjing noticed her reddened eyes and casually asked, “What’s wrong? Did someone bully you? Tell me.”

No one had spoken up for her since her father’s death. His words made her heart ache—she almost threw herself into his arms to sob but held back.

“No one bullied me. You did. Why make me do that shoot?”

Now, she had to face another magazine feature—a hard-won opportunity secured by Fu Bai. She had no choice but to brace herself and go through with it.

On the morning of the shoot, Fu Bai drove her to Yue Xiu magazine’s studio.

Fu Bai went ahead to coordinate with the magazine staff while Chu Xi was taken straight to makeup. But before long, she heard raised voices—Fu Bai’s among them.

Frowning, she was about to ask what was happening when Fu Bai stormed over, hands on hips, visibly furious.

He signaled the makeup artist to pause and pulled Chu Xi—still only in base makeup—aside.

Her gut twisted. “What’s going on?”

“Fuck,” Fu Bai swore first. “Your shoot theme and photographer were already confirmed, but now they’re pulling this last-minute bullshit.”

Chu Xi had a great photoshoot theme and photographer lined up today, and everything had been communicated with the magazine in advance. However, upon arrival, she was unexpectedly informed that plans had changed last minute.

It turned out that the theme and photographer originally arranged for Chu Xi had caught the eye of another Taiwanese actress, Gou Meiru, who insisted on taking that set for herself. Gou Meiru was shooting for the main issue this time. She had risen to fame early, starring in massively popular films and TV shows in her prime, and had won several minor awards. Backed by Taiwanese capital, her film and television resources far surpassed those of many mainland actresses of the same age. Even though her popularity had declined significantly in recent years as she aged, her team still acted entitled, flaunting their seniority and status.

The theme originally assigned to Chu Xi by Yue Xiu magazine was “Jade Rabbit,” featuring ethereal, fairy-like sample photos. No one knew how Gou Meiru had taken a liking to it, but she was adamant about shooting it. Gou Meiru’s team had always been arrogant, and if this had been the Chu Xi from before—the one who used to grace magazine covers—they might have hesitated before pulling such a stunt. But the current Chu Xi was signed to a small, struggling studio, playing supporting roles in TV dramas. Even if she had a fan who happened to be the CEO of Yuanjing Group, so what? He was just a fan. If that man truly cared about an actress like her, wouldn’t he have pulled strings to get her into the main issue instead of letting her settle for a supplement?

Besides, recent rumors suggested that this so-called “fan CEO” had already stopped supporting her.

Caught in the middle, the magazine was in a tough spot. If the two actresses’ shoots had been scheduled close together, they might have negotiated with Chu Xi to switch themes. However, Gou Meiru’s shoot was set for next week, and the original plan for her hadn’t even been finalized yet—there was no way to swap with Chu Xi.

The magazine had no choice but to offer Chu Xi’s team an alternative, previously shelved photoshoot concept—one that had also been carefully prepared—asking Fu Bai if they’d be willing to compromise for the sake of harmony and avoid clashing with Gou Meiru’s team.

The moment Fu Bai saw the sample photos for the alternative concept, his brows furrowed, and he pushed them back at the magazine staff. “This? How is this a fair swap?”

“Do you really think this suits our artist?”

Curious, Chu Xi asked, “What’s the replacement theme?”

Fu Bai scoffed in irritation. “You know Greek mythology? The Siren.”

The Siren was a half-woman, half-fish creature from Greek mythology, known for her breathtaking beauty. Legend had it that she lived on an island in the sea, perched on a rock, singing enchanting songs to lure passing sailors. Her voice was so mesmerizing that sailors would lose focus, causing their ships to crash into the rocks and sink. The island was said to be littered with the bleached bones of her victims.

Given that the character was a dark, seductive sea demon who sang amidst piles of human skeletons, the proposed photoshoot had an extremely gothic aesthetic. And due to the nature of the Siren, the shoot would inevitably involve a degree of provocative styling.

Several actresses had previously considered this concept but ultimately turned it down after careful consideration, which was why it had been shelved.

Fu Bai scoffed. “We’ll stick to our original plan. Who does she think she is, snatching whatever she wants? How old is she, still obsessed with playing a fairy? Is her addiction to playing young, naive Mary Sues that strong?”

After he finished speaking, he kept his hands on his hips, fuming.

Though the words felt satisfying to say, the reality was far from easy.

Snatching resources was commonplace in the entertainment industry. It was all too common for something already finalized to be snatched away at the last second before filming began. In a world where capital reigned supreme, those who lost out had nowhere to turn to cry.

The magazine’s intention was clearly for Chu Xi’s side to take a step back, doing them a favor to maintain good relations for future collaborations.

Chu Xi remained silent, pondering for a moment before asking for the shooting proposal of the “Siren” concept to review carefully.

She recalled the role change Director Chen had given her during the audition for Peach Blossom Promise.

The finalized look for the seductive concubine Liuli had received an overwhelmingly positive response.

People shouldn’t be confined by their perceived image or style. Sometimes, what you think suits you best might not actually be the most fitting.

She had worn countless ethereal dresses, yet the most memorable impression she left was from that simple, 200-yuan black bodycon slip dress at the Golden Feather Awards.

If she insisted on shooting the “Jade Rabbit” theme now, it might seem like a direct clash with Gou Meiru on the surface. But once the conflict erupted, while it might appear harmless outwardly, it would inevitably strain her relationship with the magazine.

Fu Bai had fought hard to secure this opportunity for her. Yue Xiu was currently the top-tier magazine in the country.

Chu Xi remembered that when Gou Meiru rose to fame with her first drama, she was still in second grade—she had practically grown up watching her shows.

Suddenly, she chuckled and said to Fu Bai, “Let Gou Meiru have the ‘Jade Rabbit’ shoot if she wants it. It’s fine.”

Fu Bai hesitated. “Then what about you…?”

Chu Xi: “We’ll shoot the Siren.”