I Became Famous in the Entertainment Industry with High Martial Arts Skills - Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The First Wave of Popularity

Beneath the latest video posted by the official Diving Abyss account at 10:00 PM, a flood of comments continued to surge, pushing the sub-ten-minute clip straight onto the trending lists.

The hashtag #DivingAbyssLatestBehindTheScenes quickly climbed into the top five trending topics. Many netizens who had been closely following the movie’s progress jumped into the fray.

“Looking forward to Xiuheng! The ‘Stars’ will meet you at Diving Abyss!”

“Everyone stand up, welcome the arrival of our Yin-Yin!”

“The bright moon shines forever; the ‘Little Moons’ are always here!”

“The ‘Little Sunbeams’ will follow Prince Jing to the death!! We love you, Brother, and await your new work!”

The top comments were essentially dominated by the big fan accounts of the four main leads. Among them, the comment praising Ji Xiuheng had a level of engagement significantly higher than the other three.

As for anyone else in the video, even if they had fans trying to boost their visibility, they were mostly relegated to the back of the comment section, unable to compete with the massive, organized “comment control” of the top fandoms.

This was the most direct manifestation of status in the entertainment industry: the higher the heat provided by fans, the more glamorous the artist appeared in the circle, and the more dazzling the starlight they carried.

Ji Xiuheng had become famous at a young age and had maintained a spotless reputation throughout his career, with an excellent standing both inside and outside the industry. In recent years, he had gradually shifted his focus behind the scenes, yet every new project he touched generated immense buzz.

On the other hand, although the female lead Song Yunyin had just won a Best Actress award, her company’s subsequent resource promotion hadn’t quite kept up. Her accumulation of work from earlier years was insufficient, and her fan base and general public appeal were not on the same level as Ji Xiuheng’s.

The film industry is a far more brutal economic market than television. Many “traffic stars” appear to be surrounded by flowers and praise, but in reality, they cannot carry a box office. Most end up cycling through small-screen TV projects, forever excluded from the big screen.

The casting for Zhang Yunjiang’s film was perfectly balanced: the male lead, Ji Xiuheng, alone was enough to anchor the box office and the hype; the skilled actress Song Yunyin ensured the overall texture of the film; and the two top-tier idols, Lu Feichen and Qiao Mingyue, provided the “icing on the cake.”

Zhou Tiantian watched the ten-minute clip on her computer repeatedly, her mind racing with inspiration for an edit.

Thinking of her marketing account’s declining likes lately, she wished she could turn into an octopus to finish a promotional video immediately, hoping to catch a ride on the massive hype of the Diving Abyss IP. These days, every industry is hyper-competitive; marketing accounts have to release edits as quickly as possible to give the audience first-hand “gossip” information.

As she scrutinized the footage, looking for a hook, a face with upturned eyes and a beauty that felt almost aggressive flashed across the screen, only to be replaced by the next shot an instant later.

Zhou Tiantian: “Holy…! Where did this beauty come from!?”

She repeatedly dragged the progress bar and searched every online platform for discussions regarding Diving Abyss. Finally, she gathered some blurry information.

A new actor. The role was a male supporting character that the official account hadn’t announced yet.

“Wait, the stunning face that flashed by in the clip was clearly wearing a long red dress, right?”

“A cross-dressing assassin?” The corners of Zhou Tiantian’s mouth curled up unconsciously.

She quickly brainstormed a theme, scoured fan-recorded “leaked” videos, and managed to compile several dozen seconds of footage featuring Xie Ci. On the cover of her finished edit, those soul-capturing cat eyes stared directly into the lens. With a small, snow-white face and a crimson dress, he possessed a swaying, ethereal sense of fragility.

“Perfect!” Zhou Tiantian nodded with satisfaction and posted the video without hesitation.

Meanwhile, as time passed, more and more “passers-by” attracted by the trending hashtags began leaving comments on the official Diving Abyss video. Unlike the organized “rainbow farts” (gushing praise) of the fandoms, the comment section began to drift in a different direction.

“At 5:45, that girl in red who flashes by—which agency’s new starlet is that? Her visuals are insane!”

“Right? The shot where she looks at the camera literally made me freeze!”

“This person is slowly becoming my ‘wife’…”

“I saw a marketing video! This isn’t a starlet; this person is a guy!”

As soon as that comment appeared, the tone of the thread shifted instantly. People began begging for links like hungry chicks. Simultaneously, Zhou Tiantian’s edit focusing on Xie Ci began to explode in popularity.

“It’s not a girl!? This cross-dressing look is way too natural!”

“I don’t care, I’m just going to stare at this face!”

“A newcomer actor? I’m looking forward to his performance.”

Most comments praised Xie Ci’s visuals, though a few netizens were curious about his past. However, since Wang Mingde’s company had only shoved him into a few “cannon fodder” extra roles in low-budget web dramas, he hadn’t made any waves. Thus, despite being in the industry for half a year, Xie Ci was effectively a total unknown. The “god-like” netizens couldn’t find much info on him.

Still, the entertainment industry had “suffered under ugly actors” for too long. Xie Ci’s distinct, beautiful face quickly attracted a small following, accumulating his first real wave of heat.

“Little Xie! Little Xie! Look! I found you on the front page of TikTok!”

With hair like a bird’s nest and dragging his slippers, Mo Li ran into Xie Ci’s bedroom holding his phone.

Xie Ci: What a fluffy bird’s nest…

He was used to Mo Li’s excitement. He took the phone, and the moment the video started, the characteristic voice of a marketing account narrator rang out.

“It’s a crime if anyone hasn’t seen this perfectly seamless cross-dressing look from Diving Abyss…”

Cross-dressing—whether male to female or vice versa, has always been a favorite topic for gossip-seekers. The narrator’s exaggerated tone immediately hooked a large audience. Within the one-minute video, the period-drama beauty in red, with features like a painting, had many netizens claiming they had “fallen in love again.”

Seeing the likes skyrocket, Mo Li was overjoyed, while Xie Ci felt his face heat up.

“Is this person a crew member? How do they have footage from last night?” Xie Ci, still exploring the new world, asked humbly.

“Hehe, the publicity team worked overtime last night to edit this,” Mo Li said, shaking his head. “To keep the movie’s momentum, the crew releases behind-the-scenes clips from time to time. Your scene last night was so good, they probably felt it would trend, so they edited it in.”

Lately, while Xie Ci had been busy learning new knowledge, Mo Li had been cramming the necessary theories for being a manager. He could now see the underlying logic behind promotional work.

“I see,” Xie Ci nodded thoughtfully, his ears still burning. Modern people are so enthusiastic… QvQ

“Camera crew in position, let’s pick up a shot here.”

The filming schedule was tight; after all, expensive equipment burns money every day.

“That wire-work movement just now was too weak. That doesn’t look like someone who knows martial arts,” Gu Xingfeng muttered, dissatisfied with an actor’s performance.

“That guy is an artist from Fanyun—the investors…” As Zhang Yunjiang’s head assistant, reporting the set’s situation to the screenwriter was part of Wang Kang’s job. Every film project has a few “connected” actors; minor roles with low requirements are often used as bargaining chips with investors.

Gu Xingfeng knew this well, so he only grumbled a bit before his attention shifted.

“Lift your chin slightly… right… perfect!”

With last night’s experience, Xie Ci was now familiar with the pre-filming routine, obediently following the makeup artist’s instructions.

Wang Zhenzhen screamed internally: Please give me more actors who actually listen to their makeup artist! Thinking of the nitpicking, difficult artists she had dealt with before, she almost shed tears of joy as a “working-class ox.”

Even in “battle-damaged” makeup, Xie Ci’s visuals remained elite. The blue-purple bruises and streaks of blood on his face only added a fragile sense of beauty.

Xie Ci was focused on the scene they were shooting this afternoon, and he felt a bit curious about the “Film Emperor” everyone kept mentioning. According to Director Zhang, his audition invitation had something to do with that man.

“Alright, you’re ready for filming!”

Xie Ci stood up, thanked Wang Zhenzhen politely, and left the dressing room to check out the upcoming set. In the script, many scenes required on-location filming. The scene where the lead, Song Yu, first meets the heavily injured Silver Thirteen takes place in a brothel.

As the sun weakened, soft light filtered through the faux-ancient architecture. The bottle-shaped doors and lattice windows were modeled after historical records, carrying a deep architectural charm.

“Little Xie, this afternoon’s scene requires wire-work. You’ll have a shot where you jump from the second floor,” Zhang Yunjiang explained, pointing at the marked section of the script.

Gu Xingfeng stood nearby with his hands behind his back, adding: “Don’t be nervous. The staff will be right there to assist you.”

For a newcomer, filming wire-work can be incredibly stressful. Gu didn’t want his “Silver Thirteen” to be scared off. If a master of the Jianghu looked terrified while performing “lightness skills,” what was the point?

Xie Ci recalled the filming he saw this morning and really wanted to say he wasn’t nervous. But seeing the serious, comforting faces of the director and screenwriter, he could only nod obediently and look at his script.

Chen Yutian, who had just finished filming, looked infuriated. Several assistants were surrounding him, offering words of comfort.

“What a trash scene! These wires hurt like hell!” Chen Yutian’s face was ugly. He only had two lines and it was a group scene, so he wouldn’t even have many close-ups in the final cut. Yet, the director had ground through several takes this morning. Although Zhang hadn’t named him directly, the way the staff looked at him made him want to smash the cameras.

The assistant massaging him chimed in: “Exactly. Is it worth wasting a whole morning on such a small part?” The assistant’s tone was indignant, as if he hadn’t been the one hiding in the corner snickering earlier.

“But I heard that newcomer the director likes so much is also doing wire-work this afternoon.”

News travels fast on set. The assistant “polished” the information he had heard and told it to Chen Yutian, who was fuming in his van.

As expected: “The director likes him? More like a ‘connected’ brat,” the man snorted coldly. “I want to see just how ‘talented’ this newcomer is that Zhang Yunjiang keeps praising.”

Knowing his boss was jealous and petty, the assistant shut his mouth. As long as Chen Yutian’s anger was directed at someone else, he was grateful. Recalling Chen Yutian’s usual tactics, a glint flashed in his small eyes as he waited for the “show” this afternoon.

Xie Ci, currently getting familiar with the script, had no idea he was about to face an unprovoked disaster.

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