Everyone in the Entertainment Industry Thinks I’m a Flirty Diva [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 71

Chu Xi’s promotional activities in Paris finally came to an end, and it was time to return home.

When she had left the country, she was a fair-skinned, beautiful rising star with a bright future. Now, she was bringing back a “brother-in-law” for everyone.

In fan circles, the officially recognized spouse of a female celebrity is often referred to as “brother-in-law,” while the girlfriend or wife of a male celebrity is called “sister-in-law.”

After Chu Xi’s relationship was exposed, a large number of fans left. When it came to their idol’s romantic life, no matter who it was with, some simply couldn’t accept it. The idea that their idol already had a predetermined partner, that they were “claimed” by someone else, disrupted the fantasy and emotional connection fans had built, leading them to unfollow. This was why so many male idols maintained a single status in public, even if they were married—some even opting to keep their marriages secret.

The remaining “Brick” fans watched tearfully as Gu Mingjing now bore the title of “Chu Xi’s Boyfriend.”

The images from that livestream lingered in their minds.

Him! It was this man! Flaunting his wealth like it was something special, flaunting his looks like it was something special, scheming his way from fan to boyfriend with who-knows-what underhanded tactics to seduce our precious Xi, even threatening her into giving him official status.

The thought that this man still held the title of “Chu Xi’s Fan of the Year” made the Brick fans’ hearts ache. Traitor! Who would’ve thought such a traitor had been hiding among their ranks!

It was like a father scrutinizing his daughter’s suitor—no matter how flawless he seemed, they’d find fault. The more the Brick fans looked at Gu Mingjing, the more displeased they became, wishing they could transform into the evil mother-in-law and break up the couple with a single blow. No matter how powerful Gu Mingjing was, he was still an obstacle—their Xi was still in the prime of her career! What was she doing dating?!

Just as the Brick fans were fuming over Chu Xi’s boyfriend—whom they couldn’t stand but couldn’t get rid of—a particularly lively group suddenly drifted into their line of sight.

The “Surprise Couple” shippers.

The Bricks: What the—???

Shippers? Our Xi and that Gu guy have shippers now?

Actually, the couple’s fanbase had existed ever since Gu Mingjing publicly declared himself a fan, and it only grew stronger after their relationship was confirmed.

The Surprise Couple shippers, upon realizing they had hit the jackpot with a real-life pairing, were ecstatic. They churned out fan content nonstop while tirelessly promoting their ship to everyone, even handing out recommendation cards to Chu Xi’s fans:

“Interested in shipping? Check out the Surprise Couple—a domineering, wealthy CEO × a long-legged, glamorous starlet. Their relationship is confirmed, their love bites are confirmed, and most importantly—they’re super, super, super, super, super sweet!”

“Psst, joining the Surprise Couple fanclub now comes with exclusive NSFW fanfics. Best enjoyed with strawberry photos—trust us, they’re super, super, super, super, super steamy.”

The Bricks: “………………”

“All you CP fans, get lost!!!”

——

When the news of Chu Xi’s return to the country was announced, domestic fan site managers and paparazzi were all waiting at the airport for her flight, hoping to get the first photos after the relationship reveal. It would be even better if she appeared together with President Gu. However, someone then leaked that Chu Xi had already returned.

Those waiting at the airport refused to believe it. Impossible! They had been stationed at the airport every day, not missing even a fly. How could Chu Xi have slipped back into the country right under their noses? Was she a ghost? Or could she teleport?

The informant had no choice but to confirm again, helplessly stating that Chu Xi had indeed returned—unnoticed because she had flown back on President Gu’s private jet.

The crowd at the airport: “………………”

So what if you have a private jet?!

The news of Chu Xi returning on Gu Mingjing’s private jet didn’t make it to the trending list, but there were still posts about it on gossip forums. Many pointed out that Gu Mingjing clearly wasn’t just playing around—he was genuinely serious about Chu Xi. The forums were a mixed bag, with fans of all kinds, and this kind of treatment made many green with envy.

On anonymous gossip forums, where everyone hid behind aliases, the tone was completely different from Weibo—far more venomous.

“Chu Xi’s fans are just ungrateful. That’s the CEO of Yuanjing, for god’s sake! Do they not understand what level he’s at? Have they forgotten Le Shan? She came out asking for trouble, trying to latch onto him, and now she’s disappeared to this day. How many actresses shamelessly throw themselves at him and can’t even get a mistress title? Chu Xi managed to snag Gu Mingjing, and instead of kneeling in gratitude, her fans dare to complain about their ‘brother-in-law’?”

“What kind of insane luck does Chu Xi have? She got dumped by her former sugar daddy, and not long after, she latched onto Gu Mingjing?”

“Is Gu Mingjing poisoned or something? Or does he just have a special kink for this? With his status, he could have any woman he wants, yet he’s so eager to be the rebound guy? Doesn’t he know Chu Xi was kept for two years? Or how many terrible movies she was forced into, ruining everyone’s eyes?”

“It’s only because Chu Xi’s popularity has risen that fewer people bring this up now. The internet has a short memory. This kind of solid black mark on her record is barely mentioned anymore except by anti-fans—somehow, she’s managed to whitewash herself clean.”

“And let’s not forget, the circles of the wealthy are all connected. Gu Mingjing might even know Chu Xi’s mysterious former sugar daddy!”

“Guess this is just the kind of thrill rich people enjoy, huh?”

“Did you see how sweet and innocent Chu Xi acted during that livestream? Probably every man’s type.”

“Tsk tsk tsk.”

——

After returning to the country, Chu Xi stared gloomily at her recently inactive “Brick Task Force.”

As expected, not many fans remained now.

After returning to the country, scripts started coming in. Fu Bai tossed a few more into Chu Xi’s hands for her to choose from first, while also lining up some variety shows for her. Seeing Chu Xi still looking troubled, he could only comfort her by saying, “So what if fans left? Out with the old, in with the new. We’re actors—our work speaks for itself. If you have standout performances, why worry about not having fans?”

Chu Xi thought that made sense. But then, what standout performances did she actually have?

None from before could be called outstanding. As for what was coming up next—the costume idol drama Peach Blossom Promise, where she played the female lead Xia Qiao—was about to air.

Thinking about this drama, Chu Xi’s heart began to pound.

Peach Blossom Promise, which she had filmed before taking acting classes, had finally completed its lengthy post-production and was set to premiere on Fruit TV. Back then, she was still in a phase of fear toward acting due to the overwhelming pressure from Gu Mingjing’s forceful backing. Filming this drama was like starting from scratch. Fortunately, director Li Yuanxin and the crew guided her on set, and she practiced her lines every morning in the park. It was through this drama that she began to vaguely grasp what acting truly was.

At the time, Chu Xi was still a clumsy novice exploring the craft. She studied many films with similar roles, learned a lot about acting techniques, and liked to meticulously plan every movement in advance—truly “acting” the role. Although Director Chen had been quite satisfied with her performance, part of it was because her appearance naturally suited the role of the seductive concubine Liuli, and another part was because Peach Blossom Promise was an idol drama that didn’t demand particularly high acting skills. The fact that she was visibly putting in effort was already commendable.

But if Chu Xi were to rate her own performance in Peach Blossom Promise now, on a scale of 100, she could barely give herself a 40.

So how was she supposed to attract fans with a 40-point performance?!

Chu Xi was at her wit’s end.

Peach Blossom Promise was Fruit TV’s only costume idol drama in this year’s prime-time slot, and the network had invested heavily in its promotion. The drama had already generated plenty of buzz during filming—scandals like investor Gu Mingjing forcibly kissing the second female lead Chu Xi on set, or Chu Xi being accused of unprofessionalism only to be spotted practicing lines in the park at 6 a.m. Now that the drama was finally airing, almost everyone was watching with bated breath.

For Xia Qiao, this drama was her major project of the year. Previously, her attempt to promote her “natural beauty” persona by accidentally knocking on the wrong door in Paris had backfired, unexpectedly exposing Chu Xi and Gu Mingjing’s relationship instead. Xia Qiao’s team had nearly been driven to fury and was now sharpening their knives, determined to make a splash with their marketing.

As for Chu Xi, she was the most anxious of all.

Just as the entertainment gossip bloggers had analyzed, after the relationship scandal, she had already lost a huge chunk of her fanbase. The remaining fans were listless and still reeling from the shock. Whether Chu Xi could make a comeback now hinged almost entirely on this drama.

If her performance turned out to be another cringeworthy mess, forget about the fans who had already suffered a blow from the scandal—even the most loyal, die-hard fans from before would likely abandon her after seeing her acting. And even if her fans didn’t give up on her, the industry certainly would.

What good was having a wealthy, powerful boyfriend? Without fans or solid work, people might show her surface-level respect, but behind her back, she’d become nothing more than a laughingstock.

Judging by the current situation, it seems unlikely that Chu Xi will be able to turn things around.

Remember the grand spectacle when Chu Xi’s movie premiered back then?

Chu Xi, the remarkable woman who single-handedly cooled down a billion-dollar film market.

For the first and second films, one could argue that as a newcomer, she still had room to improve. But after starring in so many blockbusters and still delivering the same lackluster performances, it’s clear she simply has no talent for acting. And acting is something that heavily relies on innate talent—no amount of waking up at six in the morning to practice lines can make up for that.

Chu Xi read these speculations and, thinking of her 40-point acting skills in the drama, felt tears welling up.

Even if she couldn’t turn things around this time, she shouldn’t be afraid. She couldn’t let herself be defeated. She still had Misty Abyss, and she would keep filming, determined to one day deliver a satisfactory performance for her fans.

On the day Peach Blossom Promise premiered, Chu Xi posted a promotional tweet as requested by the production team. Too afraid to read the comments, she immediately retreated to the sofa and sat in front of the TV, waiting through the commercials.

Gu Mingjing came over after work to watch the show with her.

Fruit TV’s commercials were notoriously long. As an investor, Gu Mingjing could have obtained the episodes in advance, but he decided to watch the premiere with Chu Xi instead.

He glanced at Chu Xi, who sat beside him looking tense and worried, and sighed softly. “What role do you play?” he asked.

Chu Xi replied dejectedly, “A femme fatale.”

Gu Mingjing raised an eyebrow. “Femme fatale?”

Chu Xi took a deep breath. “The kind who’s devastatingly beautiful, brings ruin to the nation, bewitches the emperor into indulging in wine and women while neglecting state affairs, and is universally condemned.”

Gu Mingjing couldn’t help but chuckle.

The director of this show certainly had a sharp eye for casting.

A woman who brings ruin to the nation and bewitches men into indulging in pleasure—wasn’t that exactly her?

As they talked, the commercials on Fruit TV finally ended, and the first episode of Peach Blossom Promise began.

Chu Xi’s first scene was set in the palace. The femme fatale, Liuli, sat beside the emperor, resting her chin on the back of her hand as she gazed lightly at a palace maid groveling on the floor—a maid caught trying to seduce the emperor.

Despite lacking the standard “villainous” dark eye makeup typical of historical romance dramas, just by sitting there with that expression—her fox-like, slightly upturned eyes—it was immediately clear that this woman was the epitome of a femme fatale.

The emperor seemed ready to settle for giving the maid a few dozen lashes, but Lili lifted her eyes, gently placed her hand over his, and cast him a coquettish glance. With a tone both resentful and teasing, she murmured, “Your Majesty~”

And just like that, the emperor ordered the maid to be beaten to death.

…

Peach Blossom Promise aired during the prime-time slot at 8 p.m., with two episodes back-to-back from Monday to Thursday. By the time the first two episodes ended, it was exactly 10 p.m.

As the ending theme played, Chu Xi sat frozen on the sofa.

She glanced at Gu Mingjing beside her and pursed her lips downward. “You don’t really like this kind of show, do you?”

Gu Mingjing answered honestly, “Yeah.”

Chu Xi responded with an “Oh.”

After watching two episodes, just as she had self-assessed, there were moments with heavy traces of acting and parts where she clearly hadn’t immersed herself in the role. It really only deserved forty points.

Chu Xi sniffled, trying hard to tell herself not to lose heart.

Noticing her low spirits, Gu Mingjing faced her earnestly and said, “But I think you acted quite well.”

Chu Xi rubbed the tip of her nose. “Thanks,” she said, dismissing it as mere comfort.

She reached out and hugged Gu Mingjing, giving a firm but not too hard bite on the shoulder of the man who had once personally built her up only to tear her down.

Gu Mingjing let her bite without resistance.

After biting him, Chu Xi felt a bit better and then asked curiously, “Have you seen my previous movies?”

Gu Mingjing replied, “No.”

Chu Xi: “………………”

He didn’t even watch the movies he invested in?

But she still had to face reality. Chu Xi gathered her emotions and finally opened Weibo.

Sure enough, “#ChuXi Acting#” was already trending.

Chu Xi let out a bitter laugh.

It was all her own doing, and she would bear all the consequences.

Whether it was criticism or mockery, she had no complaints.

Chu Xi clicked into the trending topic.

The first popular post immediately startled her.

“Surprise! Chu Xi as the seductive concubine Liuli in ‘Peach Blossom Promise’—every glance and smile is pure acting gold! Come check out her performance in the drama!”

Below were several GIFs of her scenes.

Chu Xi thought the blogger was being sarcastic, but as she scrolled further, from the posts to the comments, everything was filled with praise.

[Oh my god, is this really Chu Xi? This person on screen who can actually emote, cry, and laugh—is this really Chu Xi?!]

[Her acting is on par with Xia Qiao’s! I’m officially a fan now!]

[That smile, that gaze—I’m dead!]

[Did someone put a dark magic curse on her? How did she improve so much?!]

[She really was memorizing lines at 6 a.m.! Hard work pays off! Those who still pout and widen their eyes, stop claiming you’re trying, okay?]

[I’m a fan, and I was fully prepared for the backlash, but Xi Bao gave us such a huge surprise! Xi Bao, Brick loves you! No matter how many boyfriends you have, Brick will never leave you!]

[Just standing there, she’s already the epitome of a femme fatale! Why did she waste her time playing so many naive innocent white flowers before?!]

[Chu Xi—born with divine beauty, a promising future, relentlessly hardworking, acting skills off the charts, the best in the world!]

……

Wh-what’s going on? Chu Xi was utterly shocked. No one was criticizing her—everyone was praising her!

The more the bloggers and fans hyped her up, the more uneasy she felt.

This was just a mediocre forty-point performance! In her mind, it wasn’t even passable!

Chu Xi turned to look at Gu Mingjing.

Did he buy her a bunch of fake praise again?!

Gu Mingjing swore on his dignity as a man that he absolutely hadn’t hired any PR bots for her.

The overwhelming flattery left her flustered. Finally, Chu Xi couldn’t take it anymore and commented under her earlier promotional post for the drama:

“I really didn’t perform well this time—it’s only worth forty points. I genuinely hope everyone can offer more criticism.”

Yet still, no one criticized her.

Why would they criticize? Look at how naturally she cries and laughs.

That’s Chu Xi we’re talking about! Chu Xi! Have we all forgotten the terror she once instilled in movie theaters?

As the saying goes, only by experiencing darkness can one appreciate light; only by knowing how bad things once were can one understand how good her performance is now.

So what if it’s just forty points?

Others’ forty points may be called forty points, but Chu Xi’s forty points—can they really be called just forty points?

Forty points for others would be eighty points for her! Outstanding!

Chu Xi is amazing! Chu Xi’s acting has improved so much!

…

Chu Xi looked at these comments, her face darkening as she pieced together the situation.

So this was the legendary phenomenon—the lower the expectations for her, the greater the eventual surprise.

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. A forty-point performance could be praised like this—just how bad had she been before?

Her reinvigorated fans were basking in the pleasant surprise Chu Xi had given them, never expecting her to ask about the past.

Hah, the past? How dare you even ask?

Negative points.