Perfect Divorce [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 13

The young makeup artist never imagined she would receive such treatment. Usually, running into a star was entirely a matter of luck. Although Yuan Xingzhou had promised her, he was a very busy man; she assumed he was just being polite. As a lowly makeup assistant, she hadn’t dared to take it seriously.

Thus, when Yuan Xingzhou called out to her after they finished work for the night, it didn’t even cross her mind that she was going to see Ye Huai.

Yuan Xingzhou parked the car a short distance away. As the girl followed him around a corner, she saw Ye Huai leaning lazily against the car door, hands in his pockets, looking thoroughly bored.

The young girl froze for a second. Once it registered, she let out a “wah” and burst into tears.

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

Back when they were in the group, he often saw other people’s fans react this way upon meeting their idols, but seeing a colleague react like this felt somewhat different.

“Don’t cry…” Yuan Xingzhou was a bit flustered. He hurriedly pulled a handful of tissues from the car and handed them to the girl. “Isn’t Ye Huai standing right here in one piece?”

“Wooo—” The girl cried even harder. “I’m seeing him—wooo—I’m just so happy…”

Yuan Xingzhou didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Being happy is a good thing… Don’t cry now, or your makeup will run.”

He could see the girl was trying her best to control her emotions, but she couldn’t stabilize herself immediately. Yuan Xingzhou raised his hand, wanting to offer a comforting pat, but he wasn’t sure where it would be appropriate to place it.

“Xingzhou says you’re a makeup artist?” Ye Huai looked at the girl and asked, “How long have you been in the industry?”

“Th-three years…” the girl sobbed.

“Then you’re quite impressive,” Ye Huai said. “This line of work is very exhausting.”

“Mmh!” The girl choked out. “…In the beginning, I could only do makeup for the extras. I had to do two hundred heads a day, wooo. Back then, I kept thinking that all those heads were just points I was accumulating so I could see you…”

Ye Huai: “…”

A look of sheer horror flashed across Ye Huai’s face, but he managed a rare moment of self-control, smoothing it over into a look of surprise.

Yuan Xingzhou bit back a massive laugh and quickly looked down, pretending to play with his phone.

“…Wooo, later I became an apprentice under a master, and I’ve worked on several productions now. I just got promoted to lead assistant,” the girl sniffled. “I—I… thank you, Teacher Yuan!”

Yuan Xingzhou couldn’t hold it in anymore and laughed out loud.

The girl blanked for a moment, then started giggling foolishly along with him. The atmosphere lightened considerably. Yuan Xingzhou took the girl’s phone and snapped a photo of the two of them.

“Thank you, Teacher Yuan. Just being able to see my idol is enough for me.” With red eyes, the girl finally mustered her courage and spoke directly to Ye Huai: “Keep fighting!”

“Mmh.” Ye Huai nodded. “Remember to paint an extra abdominal muscle on Yuan Xingzhou.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

The girl burst into laughter again, then skipped away happily.

Now it was Yuan Xingzhou’s turn to have a dark face as he drove the man back to the hotel.

That evening, while Yuan Xingzhou went to shower, Ye Huai wore his bathrobe and reclined on the bed playing games, with the snacks Yuan Xingzhou had bought sitting within reach.

When Wen Ting called, he was busy spinning his character around to pick up mushrooms.

“It’s really not easy to reach you,” Wen Ting sighed on the other end. “Are you carrying a phone or a brick? If it’s that bad, I’ll start a fundraiser to buy you a working one.”

“Bad signal,” Ye Huai said. “If you have something to say, say it. I’m busy.”

Even through the phone, Wen Ting could hear the game’s background music. He was momentarily speechless.

“The company had a meeting today. The business director told me a few brands are interested in having you as a spokesperson and wanted to gauge your interest. I tried calling you a few times during the meeting but couldn’t get through, so I didn’t give them an answer.” Wen Ting got down to business. “Do you have any requirements for endorsements?”

Before leaving the group, Ye Huai’s commercial value had been exceptional.

When the company accepted endorsements for the team back then, the price would double depending on whether he was included. However, Ye Huai’s contract was different from the others; after participating once, he refused to cooperate further, and the company could do nothing about it.

The manager, Gao Mei, had once flown into a rage. Because Ye Huai refused a brand promotion, she barred him from team activities and claimed it was due to his personal reasons. For a minor trainee, there were too many ways a manager could manipulate you. Everyone else had been broken this way, eventually bowing their heads and compromising.

Ye Huai was always the exception. He demanded a new manager.

“You are my manager. You take a cut of the money I earn, so you should work for me,” Ye Huai had said back then, sitting in the CEO’s office with his legs crossed and an expression of cold indifference. “If you can do it well, do it. If not, get out.”

Gao Mei had never been treated like that. Even knowing his contract was unique, her face turned bright red with rage.

“You think all of this belongs to you naturally?” Gao Mei snapped. “If I hadn’t debuted you all, if I hadn’t pushed you to fame, would you be where you are today?”

“I could be famous anywhere; it’s the same with or without you,” Ye Huai said, resting his hands. “As for you all, without me, this group is just a pile of trash.”

That was the first time Gao Mei had been driven to a frenzy yet left utterly powerless. Wen Ting, who disliked Gao Mei’s methods of handling trainees, had felt a secret surge of joy when he heard the story later.

At the time, he never imagined he would one day become Ye Huai’s manager. However, his self-positioning was very precise. Seeing that Ye Huai was as arrogant as ever, he viewed himself as Boss Ye’s “Chief of Staff.”

In any case, this man was a natural talent whom the heavens were eager to feed; he just had to follow orders.

Sure enough, within a few days of Ye Huai’s return—and before he had even started working—business inquiries were pouring in. One should know that while Yuan Xingzhou’s popularity had risen over the past two years, his commercial resources had always been poor; he currently only had two seasonal promotions.

“I don’t have any requirements,” Ye Huai said. “Send them over for me to look at. As long as they’re pleasing to the eye.”

“Then hurry up,” Wen Ting said helplessly. “I’m afraid others have their eyes on them.”

Stealing resources wasn’t just an external threat; it happened plenty within the company too. Specifically, there was a snack manufacturer among the inquiries. The brand wasn’t big, but the endorsement fee was very high. Wen Ting felt that some of his colleagues’ eyes were practically glowing.

Ye Huai, annoyed by the nagging, said casually, “We’ll see. I’m busy.”

“Busy posting on Weibo or busy arguing with people?” Wen Ting asked. “Don’t tell me you don’t know anything. The account you used to pressure that poster for the ‘eating’ stream belongs to me.”

Ye Huai: “…”

The other day, Ye Huai had asked Wen Ting for the login details for a few websites. Wen Ting thought he just wanted to browse gossip, so he gave him a few “sockpuppet” accounts. He hadn’t expected to find his own ID while browsing the forums for “melons” at noon.

He hadn’t used that ID in over six months and had long forgotten it was one of his “vests” (aliases). Wen Ting had felt a surge of guilt at the time. Fortunately, Ye Huai had only attacked the anti-fans and hadn’t asked him about his “CP-shipping” activities.

Wen Ting slyly decided to pretend it never happened.

“I’ve already stated my position to Li Yu, but he won’t listen. Xingzhou is his artist, after all; we can’t control what he does. Furthermore, if you’ve come for a peaceful divorce, this is indeed a more appropriate method…”

Wen Ting paused, then probed tactfully, “So… I wanted to ask, do you dislike Yuan Xingzhou manufacturing a scandal with Huo Yangqing, or do you dislike Yuan Xingzhou doing it with anyone?”

Ye Huai didn’t speak. His character in the game ran aimlessly until it walked right off a cliff and died with a splat.

Wen Ting waited patiently for a reply.

“What does it have to do with me who he manufactures scandals with?” Ye Huai said after a while. “I just don’t like that guy named Huo.”

Yuan Xingzhou came out of the shower. He first checked his abdominal muscles in the mirror; the definition was okay, so it probably wouldn’t be necessary to actually paint them on. Only then did he put on his robe and step out.

Ye Huai glanced at him.

“What is it?” Yuan Xingzhou asked, seeing him staring. “Weren’t you just on the phone?”

Ye Huai’s expression was strange. “You heard all that?”

“Mmh.” Yuan Xingzhou took out his phone, logged into his Weibo alt-account, and said casually, “I heard you say you don’t like that guy named Huo.”

On Weibo, the crew of The Lost City had released a “behind-the-scenes” clip—the exact scene where Huo Yangqing and Yuan Xingzhou filmed their kiss.

The editor had cut out the beginning and end, but perfectly preserved the director’s line: “Keep your emotions in check… where are your lips wandering! You can’t even hold the card!” The set was full of joy, with everyone laughing in a heap. The reposts were filled with “water army” accounts shipping the “Qing-Zhou CP.”

“That anti-fan.” Ye Huai put down the game console and picked up his phone. “One look at him and you can tell he has bad intentions. Such a big mouth, a garlic nose, and mung-bean eyes…”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

Huo Yangqing was a popular young lead and a major heartthrob; wasn’t it a bit much to insult him like that?

Though his nose was a bit large… and the “mung-bean eyes”… fans usually praised them as “fawn eyes”…

He listened silently, not daring to argue.

“…Why aren’t you saying anything?” Ye Huai didn’t let him off, looking up with a suspicious squint. “Are you on his side in your heart?”

“How could that be,” Yuan Xingzhou said quickly. “It’s just that what you said was so accurate, I completely lacked the words to refute it.”

Ye Huai gave a “Heh.”

Yuan Xingzhou thought for a moment and couldn’t help but defend Huo Yangqing: “Besides, this CP hype wasn’t his idea. Li Yu was the one who proposed it, and the production crew benefits the most. He’s just cooperating.”

It might be hard to say for others, but someone like Huo Yangqing could get on the trending searches just by putting his arm around an influencer. He didn’t lack that kind of heat, so you couldn’t blame the guy. At the very least, the “prime culprit” was on his own side.

“And…” Yuan Xingzhou looked at a photoshopped image of him and Huo Yangqing kissing on the screen and shivered. “I feel quite awkward about this CP hype too. After all, he’s my fan.”

Ye Huai’s expression softened slightly. He scrolled through his phone without saying another word, eventually landing back on Huo Yangqing’s alt-account.

He hadn’t noticed last time, but this time he saw the account hadn’t been updated in a long time.

Just as Yuan Xingzhou breathed a sigh of relief, he heard the man speak with a dead-serious tone.

“Former fan,” Ye Huai said to his phone, his face solemn. “You need to be precise. He’s been ‘de-fanned’ for three and a half years.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”