Guess What? The Entire Entertainment Industry Thinks I’m Dead - Chapter 5

After taking the photo, Lin Chenghuan realized that her mindset had indeed relaxed considerably since resigning. In the past, she would never have dared to pat her boss’s shoulder like that.

Lu Zhiwei continued to look at her, her gaze as warm as the spring sun, without a trace of reproach. This made Lin Chenghuan feel somewhat uneasy.

Lu Zhiwei’s visit today had already exceeded her expectations, and the fact that the other party was so approachable only added to her surprise. Such unusual behavior almost made her entertain a narcissistic speculation.

Lin Chenghuan withdrew her hand, let out an awkward laugh, and quickly turned her attention back to her phone. The TV in front of them was still playing a drama starring an acquaintance, and with the background noise, the silence didn’t feel awkward.

By noon, Lin Chenghuan went to the dining room for lunch. In the afternoon, the two of them rested in their respective rooms. Online, the response to Lin Chenghuan’s recent public appearance remained largely critical, with many accusing her of planning the whole thing as a publicity stunt.

However, even negative attention was still attention. Lin Chenghuan once again topped the trending searches, and her popularity was almost enviable. Aside from the topic “Lin Chenghuan Debunks Rumors,” the hashtag “Lu Zhiwei Provides Door-to-Door Service for Lin Chenghuan” briefly surpassed the debunking topic and claimed the top spot.

Netizens had already engaged in heated discussions about whether the two were at Lu Zhiwei’s home, Lin Chenghuan’s home, or some unknown resort hotel. In the end, based on reliable sources tracking their schedules, it was determined that they were most likely at Lin Chenghuan’s residence in Nanjing.

Moreover, Lu Zhiwei had first gone to Beidaihe but, unable to find her, quickly appeared on a flight to Nanjing. This clearly demonstrated her concern for her former subordinate.

With Lu Zhiwei’s involvement, discussions about Lin Chenghuan took on a lighter tone, filled with playful shipping and teasing, finally free from the previous hostility. Fang Yuan praised this development highly, while Lin Chenghuan found it amusing that her carefree actions had unexpectedly brought about a positive outcome.

In the evening, Li Xiaoyi prepared dinner, and the three of them ate together at the table. After the meal, Li Xiaoyi set out desserts and cold drinks in the living room before quickly making her exit, leaving Lin Chenghuan and Lu Zhiwei to continue watching TV on the sofa.

“Was she your assistant when you filmed ‘Dreams of Bianliang’?” Lu Zhiwei asked.

“Yes, I’m surprised you remember.”

“Mm, she’s a good kid, quite meticulous in her work.”

“Right.”

Lin Chenghuan couldn’t help but laugh, thinking that Lu Zhiwei was only a few years older than Li Xiaoyi but still regarded her as a child. However, it was common for seasoned professionals in the industry to view newcomers as juniors.

“It seems she hasn’t been here long and isn’t as familiar with your home as I am… Who used to cook for you at home before?” Lu Zhiwei began inquiring about her dietary habits again.

“I hired a housekeeper who came every few days to cook and clean. The rest of the time, I cooked for myself, ordered takeout, or ate out.”

Lu Zhiwei fell silent for a moment. Lin Chenghuan suddenly remembered how, in the past, Lu Zhiwei had advised her to order less takeout. She had retorted that she’d eaten plenty of boxed meals on set and saw no issue with takeout. Besides, she only ordered from reputable restaurants.

Now, Lu Zhiwei quickly nodded and said, “You’re actually willing to cook for yourself now. It seems you’re truly in a better mood after stepping back from the entertainment industry.”

“Yes.” Lin Chenghuan smiled faintly, recalling how she had once said she was usually too lazy to cook unless she was in a particularly good mood.

“By the way, why were you at the hospital the other day? Paparazzi caught photos of you being taken to Qindao Hospital, and they didn’t look fake.” Lu Zhiwei abruptly changed the subject, bringing up the incident that had sparked widespread media speculation.

“Vasovagal syncope. It happened because I stood up too quickly after lying down for a while, and I’d had a bit to drink.”

“…Since when have you been this fragile?”

“It’s an occasional thing, like fainting from low blood sugar. Nothing serious.”

“Really?” Lu Zhiwei picked up her phone and started searching online, her brow furrowing deeper the more she read.

“I’m not the type to faint frequently. Here’s the medical report, it’s really nothing.” Lin Chenghuan opened her chat history with Fang Yuan and showed her the diagnosis and examination results.

“Oh…” Lu Zhiwei studied them for a moment before looking up again. “Where did you faint?”

“In the hotel. I woke up after five minutes, but Niannian insisted on taking me to the hospital anyway. I was drunk and exhausted, so I ended up sleeping there…”

“So, you were drinking with your sister.”

“Yeah…” Lin Chenghuan struggled to keep a straight face. She strongly suspected she’d just blacked out from drinking and accidentally hit her head when she fell, scaring her sister and leading to an unnecessary hospital trip.

But according to the symptoms, they actually diagnosed it as vasovagal syncope? It sounded intimidating at first, but the checkup showed nothing abnormal.

Lu Zhiwei smiled, finally looking much more at ease, and Lin Chenghuan felt inexplicably touched. Unfortunately, there was no chance now to repay her by taking on loads of roles, Xia Yao wouldn’t be earning commissions from her anymore.

So, the former boss and employee chatted casually like old friends before quietly returning to their phones. Not long after, discussions about Lin Chenghuan online surged once again.

At 7 p.m., the influencer account that had first published the photos of Lin Chenghuan entering the hospital issued an apology, admitting they’d posted unverified information based on faulty paparazzi tips and expressing deep regret.

Soon, several other influencer accounts followed suit, apologizing both to Lin Chenghuan and to their followers for betraying their trust. Public anger swiftly shifted toward these accounts, with netizens criticizing them for spreading baseless rumors.

Since these accounts had posted significant misinformation, apologizing to fans was inevitable. What was rare, however, was that they didn’t attempt to shift blame onto Lin Chenghuan or redirect negative public opinion her way, instead, they apologized to her directly.

Lin Chenghuan, now without agency backing, a manager, or any known family wealth, was essentially a solo artist. Over the past two years, other celebrities’ promotional campaigns and influencer accounts had often used her as a punching bag to boost their own visibility, exploiting her for clout.

So, Lin Chenghuan knew better than to think these accounts had suddenly grown a conscience. It had to be Fang Yuan’s doing, threats and payoffs. She thanked Fang Yuan once again.

“Don’t mention it. By the way, when I had people contact those accounts, some remarked how many former bosses still have your back. I suspect Lu Zhiwei also reached out to them. You might want to look into it,” Fang Yuan replied.

“Okay.” Lin Chenghuan felt a mix of emotions and glanced suspiciously at Lu Zhiwei, wondering what was really going on.

Doing good deeds without leaving a name felt like a bit of a loss, especially in the entertainment industry, where connections mattered so much. Or perhaps Lu Zhiwei, coming from a wealthy and influential family, considered it just a small favor?

Lu Zhiwei had been smiling at her phone but turned alertly when she noticed Lin Chenghuan’s gaze. Lin Chenghuan responded with a friendly smile.

“Would you like some snacks? I still have plenty in stock.”

“Sure, thank you.” Lu Zhiwei’s expression relaxed, which struck Lin Chenghuan as a bit odd. Was she looking at something she shouldn’t be, to be so guarded?

So, Lin Chenghuan brought out an assortment of snack packs and placed them on the table. The two of them snacked while scrolling through their phones. Since the other party had done a good deed without seeking recognition, Lin Chenghuan decided not to voice her thanks just yet, opting instead to show gratitude through treats.

Online, thanks to marketing accounts redirecting the public’s anger over feeling deceived, the latest comments under Lin Chenghuan’s posts had become much milder. Sympathetic remarks were climbing higher in the likes, and public opinion had effectively shifted.

Moreover, after Lu Zhiwei’s interaction with her, the old rumors about her fallout with Xia Yao were debunked. As a result, fans of the “Lin-Wei” pairing celebrated as if it were a holiday, flooding the comments with enthusiastic posts.

Lin Chenghuan found it quite amusing. Simply shipping a couple was fun in itself, but in the past, there had always been sneaky trolls mocking her, claiming she was being kept by her boss. Now, after stepping back from the industry for two years and seeing Lu Zhiwei’s kindness again, she suddenly felt that being called a “caged canary” wasn’t so bad after all.

Online gossip would never be entirely positive, haters would always exist. Why bother with their comments? In any case, she truly was under her boss’s protection, which was a legitimate way to secure support.

On TV, the prime-time drama happened to be Song of the Cloud Palace, a xianxia series Lin Chenghuan had starred in four years ago, which had been a massive hit. Watching the familiar plot, she couldn’t help but smile, recalling the filming days.

Though shooting was exhausting, being in a harmonious crew, discussing the storyline, flying on wires, riding horses, and shooting arrows, had been genuinely enjoyable.

Beside her, Lu Zhiwei, realizing the show was Lin Chenghuan’s, put her phone down and began watching the drama leisurely.

After a while, Lu Zhiwei remarked, “Your acting is excellent. It’s a real misconception for people online to criticize your skills because of Night Like Years.”

“Whatever. Strangers can say what they want. At least you understand me, Sister Wei.” Lin Chenghuan raised an eyebrow and flashed a charming, practiced smile, even throwing in a flirtatious glance.

“…” Lu Zhiwei’s eyes flickered, as if startled, and she fell silent.

Lin Chenghuan remained composed but chuckled inwardly. Her boss clearly wasn’t used to such teasing glances. Usually, when they met, it was for serious matters, rarely in such a relaxed setting.

Of course, in the past, she wouldn’t have dared to joke with her boss like this…

“It seems after two years away, you’ve let go of many things,” Lu Zhiwei mused after a moment.

“Yeah, and even if I hadn’t, I’d never sink into depression or take my own life. If rumors like that pop up again, don’t believe them.” Lin Chenghuan spoke casually while still watching the show.

Lu Zhiwei gave a helpless, bitter smile and nodded, her thoughts drifting off to who knows where.

“Night Like Years” is a period drama that intertwines domestic intrigue with court politics. Lin Chenghuan, the female lead, has been criticized for failing to match her co-stars’ acting intensity and stumbling over her lines during crucial scenes.

However, the script intentionally portrayed the heroine as speaking haltingly when flustered, and the director believed occasional stuttering during arguments would enhance authenticity.

Unfortunately, audiences paid no heed to these nuances. Given that celebrities’ every word is routinely dissected, such perceived acting flaws inevitably sparked extensive debate. Compounded by rumors that her rapid rise to fame was fueled by patronage, she was swiftly labeled a mere “pretty vase” in the public eye.