Let's Get Married on the First Day of Rebirth - Chapter 31

Qu Ange’s Weibo followers skyrocketed to several hundred thousand in no time.

Along with the explosive growth in followers came a flood of comments and private messages.

The comments were largely divided into three camps: some believed she was telling the truth and thought the matter should just be left to rest; others thought she was lying, arguing that if there really was such a person, why hadn’t they come forward to admit it; and a third group was just there for the drama, suggesting they should stir up even more hype—maybe then the person would show up. With all this discussion and still no appearance, were they living in some remote mountain forest?

The private messages were even more colorful. There were offers—some genuine, some fake—from talent agencies, people asking if she’d do advertisements, others hurling insults for reasons she couldn’t even comprehend, and some even sending her explicit pictures! Her head throbbed from reading it all, so she closed Weibo and tossed her phone aside.

No wonder PR departments had so many people. Public relations really was a specialized field.

Although, in a way, she had gone viral, Qu Ange felt mentally drained and couldn’t muster any energy all day. In the afternoon, she received another call from Wang Jia, who immediately said, “Your agent is demanding another pay raise for you. Did you know?”

Qu Ange sighed, “This time, they really didn’t even discuss it with me.”

Wang Jia said, “They’re getting out of hand, treating everyone like fools. By the way, Qu Ange, this might be overstepping, but I know a business owner with deep pockets—made their fortune in coal mining—who’s looking to break into the entertainment industry. Would you like to meet them?”

Qu Ange was taken aback. She hadn’t expected Wang Jia to go this far for someone who was still practically a stranger.

Wang Jia’s voice even sounded a bit embarrassed: “But I know it sounds a bit odd. If you trust me, come out tomorrow. I’ve booked a private room at Mingyu Tower. I promise it’s not that kind of… that kind of…”

She struggled for words, but Qu Ange understood immediately and laughed, “I know what you mean, sis. Of course, I trust you.”

The entertainment industry was full of these situations. Veterans in the field might use the excuse of making connections but actually be setting you up for dinners with bosses or worse. It was hard for newcomers to tell the difference. It all came down to the character of the person making the introduction. With anyone else, Qu Ange would have hesitated, but with Wang Jia’s integrity, why wouldn’t she trust her?

She agreed without hesitation, “Sis, is it tomorrow at noon? Should I arrive a bit early?”

Wang Jia said, “It’s actually in the evening, but the boss is a woman. She really only has time for dinner.”

Qu Ange couldn’t help but chuckle. In this industry, meeting a boss for lunch usually meant serious business discussions, but dinner could be ambiguous. After all, there were so many things one could do at night.

Qu Ange roughly understood what Wang Jia was trying to explain and found it amusing: “Sis, you’re the one helping me find opportunities, so why are you the nervous one?”

Wang Jia said, “I didn’t realize it at first, but the more I talk about it, the weirder it sounds. But you, how can you trust me so easily?”

Qu Ange replied, “I don’t know why, but you remind me of a senior from my university days. We used to go eat cold noodles together all the time.”

Wang Jia chuckled, “How strange. I really did often go eat cold noodles with a junior during my university days. If it weren’t for the mismatch in age and appearance, I’d have thought it was you.”

Qu Ange smiled, “Isn’t that fate? By the way, what’s the name of that shop owner?”

Wang Jia replied, “It’s easy to remember, very poetic. It’s Qiu Shuiyi.”

Hearing that familiar name again, Qu Ange froze for a moment, until Wang Jia reminded her not to forget. She quickly responded, and after a bit smaller talk, Qu Ange hung up the phone, excitedly jumped up, tossed her phone onto the sofa, and danced her way over to Xu Mi, who was editing photos. “My luck is finally turning around!” she exclaimed.

Xu Mi, who had overheard the call, glanced up at Qu Ange and said, “When you signed that contract with the agent, didn’t you also think he looked familiar?”

Qu Ange: “…”

Squinting slightly, Xu Mi stared at Qu Ange’s face and added, “And when did you have a senior who ate cold noodles with you? I don’t remember knowing her.”

Qu Ange gave an awkward laugh. “There isn’t one. What senior? It was just polite conversation. You know all my university classmates—there’s no such person.”

Xu Mi didn’t say anything more and went back to focusing on her photo editing. Qu Ange breathed a sigh of relief, noticing Tan Zhenzhen watching her with an amused expression from the side. Rubbing her nose, Qu Ange retreated to her room.

The main dish for dinner that evening was boiled sliced pork, but because Xu Mi and Tan Zhenzhen needed to take photos and videos, by the time they could actually eat, the food had gone cold. Seeing their efforts, Qu Ange proposed an idea: “Have you ever thought about making a video inspired by A Bite of China?”

At that time, A Bite of China was extremely popular. A phenomenon-level documentary that year. People had already started imitating its narrative style, known as the “Bite of China tone.” Typical phrases included, “XXX is a gift from nature.” By the time the second season aired, many were mimicking this style in their videos, whether making instant noodles, eating takeout, or even creating content completely unrelated to food. It had once made Qu Ange laugh so hard she rolled around on her bed.

Qu Ange shared these thoughts and noticed Xu Mi frowning at her while Tan Zhenzhen looked utterly confused. Thinking they found her idea absurd, she quickly waved her hands and said, “I was just throwing it out there. If you want to quickly boost your popularity, you could try riding on this trend.”

At that moment, Tan Zhenzhen clapped her hands loudly and exclaimed, “Brilliant!”

Her eyes lit up as she looked at Qu Ange. “Qu Ange, I never realized you had such a sharp mind.”

Qu Ange’s lips twitched. “Are you actually complimenting me?”

Tan Zhenzhen turned to Xu Mi. “Actually, back when I was working at a company, the articles we wrote often leveraged trends to ensure traffic.”

Xu Mi, lacking experience in this area, looked puzzled. “I don’t really understand.”

Qu Ange quickly explained, “It’s like this: for example, if I make a bowl of instant noodles now, the copy could say—’After a long day of work, nothing saves the stomach better than a bowl of fragrant instant noodles. Perhaps a bowl of instant noodles lacks nutrition and seems insignificant, but it embodies decades of wisdom since the dawn of industrial development…'”

Tan Zhenzhen laughed so hard she slapped the table. “You’re too talented, coming up with that on the spot! But why instant noodles? Hahaha…”

Qu Ange replied, “It’s all about contrast. Using such lofty words to describe something as mundane and overlooked as instant noodles from everyday life—that’s what makes it hilarious, isn’t it?”

Still laughing, Tan Zhenzhen nodded vigorously. “Exactly, it’s hilarious.”

Qu Ange turned to Xu Mi, looking at her with eager anticipation. Seeing this expression, Xu Mi felt a bit puzzled but hesitated for a moment before saying, “Mm, it’s great.”

Qu Ange’s eyes lit up, and she smiled happily.

With the idea in mind, they immediately got to work. Tan Zhenzhen strongly suggested releasing the “A Bite of Instant Noodles” video first. She already had instant noodles in her room, so she brought them out for Xu Mi. Xu Mi added tomatoes, leafy greens, and corn kernels to the noodles, making them look incredibly luxurious. Qu Ange, upon seeing it, remarked, “I think keeping it plain would be better. It creates a stronger contrast.”

So Xu Mi made another batch, and this time it worked. Tan Zhenzhen effortlessly polished off two bowls of noodles, and the three of them began organizing their materials, working late into the night before finally returning to their rooms. Qu Ange finished washing up first and realized she couldn’t sleep.

Tomorrow, she would be meeting Qiu Shuiyi, and honestly, she felt a little nervous.

As it turned out, Qiu Shuiyi was the very same boss Qu Ange would later work for. Although by that time, Qu Ange had already established her own independent studio and started signing artists, the parent company at the top was Brilliant Pictures, and the owner of Brilliant Pictures was Qiu Shuiyi.

Wang Jia was right. Qiu Shuiyi’s family originally made their fortune in coal mining, so wealthy they could earn money just by lying around. Her relatives spanned the military, political, and business sectors. Back in 2012, Qiu Shuiyi, the youngest daughter of the Qiu family, decided to venture into the entertainment industry and gave her company the grand name Brilliant Pictures. However, breaking into the entertainment world wasn’t easy. Initially, Brilliant Pictures had no artists or connections, gathering a bunch of newcomers and producing one box-office flop after another. It was mockingly called the “Self-Entertainment Company,” and its artists were seen more as “office workers” than entertainers. But within a few years, people stopped laughing—for no other reason than the company was just too rich.

Even if their movies didn’t sell, their artists had no popularity or activities, the boss still paid high salaries. What difference was there from working at a state-owned enterprise?

Newcomers were envious and started scrambling to get into Brilliant Pictures.

But then, as if Qiu Shuiyi suddenly had an epiphany and realized there was no hope in continuing to push into the film industry, she took a different path. She established a subsidiary called Midnight Entertainment, focusing on cultivating domestic idols. The company became one of the first to ride the wave of popularity for boy and girl groups, thriving ever since and growing into a force to be reckoned with in the entertainment industry. The parent company, Brilliant Pictures, also began attracting more skilled actors, creating a virtuous cycle.

In short, although in 2012, Qiu Shuiyi’s company was still a makeshift operation with nothing to its name, it was undeniably a promising venture in the making.

Qu Ange also understood why Wang Jia had recommended her to Qiu Shuiyi. She was short on funds, and Qiu Shuiyi had everything except a lack of money.

As Qu Ange thought about these things, she couldn’t help but picture Qiu Shuiyi’s appearance ten years later. Truth be told, as a big boss, they weren’t very close—they had only shared a few meals together. But Qu Ange still felt that the other woman had a certain elegance about her.

Lost in her thoughts, she suddenly noticed that a certain QQ group on her phone was particularly lively. Taking a closer look at the chat history, she realized it was about a drama she had previously filmed called The Chivalrous Thief Three Hundred Taels. In this drama, she played a minor supporting female role, and it was airing at that very moment.

Qu Ange grew a bit curious. She had almost forgotten she had even acted in this role. She switched to the channel, and the drama had just begun. A voiceover was earnestly introducing the social background of the story. It was a martial arts drama, and as the title suggested, it revolved around a chivalrous thief named Three Hundred Taels. Later, as martial arts dramas declined in popularity, fewer and fewer were produced. Qu Ange hadn’t watched one in a long time and found herself surprisingly engrossed.

When Xu Mi came out of the bathroom, she saw Qu Ange staring at the screen with a wide grin. Turning her head, she recognized the actors she had seen earlier in entertainment news. She immediately knew this was the last drama Qu Ange had filmed. Naturally, she didn’t have a good impression of it, as it was because of this drama that Qu Ange had gradually drifted away from her.

Silently, Xu Mi dried her hair and did her skincare routine. By the time she lay down in bed, Qu Ange, who had been absorbed in the drama, finally snapped out of it. She stole a glance at Xu Mi, but couldn’t discern her mood from her expressionless face. Feeling guilty, Qu Ange picked up the remote and changed the channel.

Xu Mi then spoke up, “Weren’t you enjoying it? Why change it?”

Qu Ange quickly replied, “Not really. I was just watching casually. I already know the plot. what’s there to see?”

Pretending to be nonchalant, she secretly glanced at Xu Mi out of the corner of her eye. Xu Mi said, “Switch it back. I want to watch it too.”

“No need…”

“Switch it back.”

Qu Ange silently switched it back.

As a minor female character, she didn’t appear at all in the first episode. It was only during the ending credits that her name appeared in the cast list. Xu Mi suddenly asked, “Who was that on the phone with you this afternoon?”

Qu Ange answered honestly, “A screenwriter. She’s written many famous period dramas, like Beating the Golden Branch and Peach Blossoms and Willow Greens…”

“Do you know her?”

“I only met her during the last audition. But I’ve heard of her. She has a good reputation in the industry.”

“What did she say?”

“She said she wants to introduce me to a boss.”

Xu Mi frowned slightly. “Do you trust her?”

Qu Ange smiled and looked at Xu Mi. “Mimi, are you worried about me? How about we go together tomorrow?”

Xu Mi shot her a sharp glare. “If something really happens, the two of us together probably wouldn’t make a difference.”

Qu Ange said, “It’ll be fine. How about this: as soon as I enter the private room, we’ll keep the call connected. That way, we can record the conversation, and if anything happens, you can call the police immediately.”

Xu Mi fell silent.

Advertisements played on the TV, repeating catchy, brainwashing slogans. Qu Ange turned to look at Xu Mi and, seeing that she wasn’t saying anything, asked again, “Is that okay?”

Xu Mi softly replied, “Mm.”

Qu Ange happily wrapped her arms around Xu Mi’s. “I knew you were worried about me!”

Xu Mi tried to shake her off but failed, so she slightly hunched her shoulders, letting her hair fall and cover her slightly flushed ears.

She stared at the TV screen, her mind buzzing with thoughts like whether Qu Ange would find her too controlling. The show moved into its second episode, and the opening credits featured a shot of Qu Ange in a pale-yellow gauzy dress, her hair styled in double buns, looking like a young girl. But by the end of the episode, her character still hadn’t appeared.

Xu Mi grew impatient watching the male and female leads and supporting characters, thinking none of them were even one-tenth as beautiful as Qu Ange. Why did they get so much screen time?

She asked, “When do you show up?”

No response.

She looked down and saw Qu Ange’s head tilted against her shoulder, already asleep.

Xu Mi was stunned. In the dim, warm light, the other woman looked like a fairy from an oil painting, with a translucent, dreamy quality. The first time Qu Ange had slept beside her, Xu Mi had thought the same—her face, painted with an oil-painting softness in the rainy, humid air, had fallen asleep before her. Xu Mi couldn’t resist raising her hand to gently trace the other’s nose bridge, finally resting on the slightly upturned tip.

It seemed Qu Ange had truly changed. Even when Xu Mi asked so many questions, she didn’t get angry and was willing to explain patiently without getting annoyed. Looking back on the past now felt almost unreal.

Xu Mi’s fingers slowly drifted downward, finally landing on those soft, full lips. She was lost in thought when Qu Ange suddenly mumbled something incoherent. Xu Mi quickly withdrew her hand, and Qu Ange turned over, rolling off her shoulder and tumbling to the edge of the bed.

A smile tugged at the corner of Xu Mi’s lips, escaping unintentionally.

She watched for a long time before turning back to the TV. Suddenly, she really wanted to see what Qu Ange had acted in and what this career she loved so much was all about. The third episode was halfway through, and just as Xu Mi couldn’t hold back a yawn, Qu Ange finally appeared, playing a junior disciple of a sect. Her smile was lively, her eyes sparkling—it was Qu Ange, yet it wasn’t.

Her character said to the male lead, “Brother Three Hundred Taels, Rongrong has finally found you!”

Xu Mi couldn’t help but laugh. She thought, Qu Ange would never say something like that.

…

The next day, Qu Ange woke up early to go out for exercise. When she returned, she found Xu Mi still in bed. It was almost noon by the time Xu Mi finally got up. Qu Ange asked, “Did you sleep late? What were you doing? Couldn’t sleep, so you edited videos?”

Xu Mi was too embarrassed to say she had stayed up until midnight watching the drama just to catch Qu Ange’s scenes, so she remained silent, tacitly agreeing.

They had a simple lunch, and Qu Ange carefully picked out an outfit and did her makeup before heading to Yuming Tower. When she got off the subway, Wang Jia said she would come to pick her up. Qu Ange was naturally grateful. Once in the car, they exchanged pleasantries for a while. Qu Ange said politely, “I wonder if I can meet President Qiu’s expectations.”

Wang Jia was silent for a moment before replying, “I think it should be fine.”

She still remembered the phone call from the day before, when President Qiu had only asked one question—

“Ah, I see. Well… is she pretty?”

President Qiu’s name was poetic, but as a person, she seemed rather ordinary.