She Became The Black Lotus’s Pure, Untouchable Love - Chapter 16

Chapter 16

In the past, the act of “keeping” a starlet or feeding resources to a fourth or fifth-tier actress was, in Huo Xingyu’s eyes, a sign of a “water-logged brain” and questionable intelligence.

Business was about profit. Investing capital into a place with no return was equivalent to abandoning vested interests and throwing money into a river. At least if you threw money into a river, you’d hear a splash; throwing it onto an actress who couldn’t generate revenue only yielded a few useless promotional posters.

Watching the red light countdown at the intersection, her warm-brown nails tapped rhythmically against the steering wheel. Huo Xingyu had never expected to become a member of the “impaired intellect” club herself.

She recalled Secretary Song’s gaze from earlier—eyes full of suppressed mirth and “I knew it” knowingness. Song had looked everywhere but at her, pretending to be casual while dying to gossip.

Given the Huo Group’s consistent high-end brand image, even for side projects like this, the invited Brand Ambassadors were usually top-tier celebrities. Ning Xiangxiang wouldn’t be qualified for such a promotion even if she worked for another ten years.

Secretary Song must have proposed this candidate because she saw me accidentally sign Ning Xiangxiang’s name on those documents a few days ago, Huo Xingyu thought silently. To her subordinates, she had likely joined the ranks of those bosses who were “infatuated to the point of folly.”

Actually…

Actually, she hadn’t originally intended to give Ning Xiangxiang any career help. Just like in her previous life, she would marry her into the Huo family, and Ning Xiangxiang would just need to stay by her side.

She would be the only rabbit she kept. In the greenhouse Huo Xingyu built, Ning Xiangxiang would never lack anything. For the things the girl couldn’t think of or didn’t know how to fight for, Huo Xingyu would seize them and place them right by the rabbit hole. If she just stayed a “good Mrs. Huo” like last time, Huo Xingyu would treat her even better. What use were these resources?

But somehow, while looking at those project files, Ning Xiangxiang’s face kept popping up in her mind.

Huo Xingyu didn’t know much about the income of fifth or sixth-tier starlets. Her financial focus was limited to artists with deep ties to the Huo Group. But from what she’d seen lately, although Ning Xiangxiang had roles and some endorsements, she wasn’t exactly penniless.

So why was there no one to look after her when she left the hospital? Her leg was injured and in a cast, yet she didn’t even have a car service; she had to hail a taxi on the street to go to the set. If Huo Xingyu hadn’t appeared, what if she got kidnapped while limping around?

Is she really that poor?

Huo Xingyu leaned her head back against the seat. Images of Ning Xiangxiang’s pale, youthful face—shy, crying, surprised, and submissive—filled her mind. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly.

Since Ning Xiangxiang was going to marry her anyway, this couldn’t be called “a sugar mommy dumping resources.” They were going to have a marital relationship. This should be called…

An advance on her allowance.

Exactly. Just an allowance. She wasn’t “infatuated to the point of folly” at all.

A hint of a smile reached Huo Xingyu’s eyes. If Ning Xiangxiang, who barely ranked in the entertainment circle, found out she could have a project with the Huo Group, she’d probably be so happy she’d drag that heavy cast and run three laps around the film set.

Isn’t that what they call a “resource skyrocket”?

But Ning Xiangxiang was so ditsy; would she even know it was Huo Xingyu helping behind the scenes? She already liked her this much—if she found out, it would be even more overwhelming!

A blush crept onto Huo Xingyu’s face, and a smug smile played on her lips. She reached out and pressed play on the music. The deep female voice flowed out—the same song Ning Xiangxiang had listened to in her car last time.

As the wind blew through the trees, scattered green leaves danced. Huo Xingyu felt an inexplicable sense of exhilaration.

The Huo Group headquarters was in the western business district, while the Film City was located in a remote area east of the city, further out than the suburbs. After driving for two hours, she was just one turn away from seeing Ning Xiangxiang.

How will she react when she sees me?

She’ll probably be very happy. Her cheeks would be flushed, and her eyes would curve into crescents, just like in those cheesy dramas she filmed. She would look at Huo Xingyu with that same expectant, excited gaze she gave her male co-stars—but this time, looking only at her.

The thought made Huo Xingyu feel a sudden, inexplicable sense of urgency. Her slender fingers gripped the leather steering wheel, watching the red light timer tick down.

Suddenly, someone tapped on her right window twice.

She turned her head. Her gaze froze.

In the middle of a scorching summer day, the person tapping on her window had their head entirely wrapped in a scarf, sunglasses, and a mask. As if sensing Huo Xingyu looking at her, the person leaned closer to the glass and mysteriously lowered one corner of their mask.

Huo Xingyu never expected anyone to tap on her window while she was waiting at a light. She especially never expected that the person tapping would be Deng Yanxin.

Seeing that smiling face through the glass, Huo Xingyu hesitated for a moment before rolling down the window.

“What a coincidence, Huo Xingyu.”

Huo Xingyu scanned the surroundings. Deng Yanxin had no assistant or bodyguard in sight; she was wandering the streets alone in a wheelchair.

“It is a coincidence. After all, one doesn’t see a ‘Limping Best Actress’ just anywhere.” Huo Xingyu’s eyes were cool and emotionless.

Deng Yanxin’s mouth twitched visibly. Out of habit, she maintained a polite smile, though she replied through gritted teeth: “I thought given how ‘stone-hearted’ and ‘unfathomably cold’ you usually are, you would’ve slammed the gas and run the red light the moment I took off my mask.”

“Well, I haven’t hit the gas yet mainly because I have a moral obligation to assist the weak…” Huo Xingyu glanced at the actress’s leg and continued: “But if where you’re going isn’t on my way, I won’t let you in.”

“…Didn’t you say you have an obligation to assist?”

“The obligation to assist is not a mandatory legal duty. If one chooses not to help the weak when capable, they only face the condemnation of social morality and their own conscience…” Huo Xingyu spared her a glance. “My conscience does not condemn me.”

True…

Looking at the indifferent expression and those sharp, arrogant phoenix eyes that either showed coldness or disdain, Deng Yanxin agreed inwardly. Huo Xingyu always made people feel her arrogance. Her conscience wouldn’t just “not condemn” her—she simply didn’t have one!

Deng Yanxin maintained her signature kind smile, though her jaw was tight. “We are definitely going the same way, President Huo.”

…

“You mean…” Ning Xiangxiang’s eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at Lin Junru. “You mean you mistook Deng Yanxin for me and pushed her all the way out to the main road?”

“Yes.”

“The ‘Triple Crown’ Best Actress Deng Yanxin? Not some other person with the same name??”

“It was really her.” Lin Junru curled up in her chair, burying her face in her knees. She felt like she was facing “social death” in the industry.

“She didn’t resist?”

“I think… I think not? Or maybe I was talking too much and didn’t notice…” Junru said, on the verge of tears. “Since I was rushing to the set, she eventually told me to go ahead.”

Seeing Junru’s shame, Ning Xiangxiang asked cautiously, “She didn’t blame you, did she?”

In her past life, Ning Xiangxiang had left the industry early. As a minor starlet, she hadn’t had much contact with top-tier actors. Later, as Mrs. Huo, her social circle became wealthy socialites—a completely different sphere. She had only briefly crossed paths with Deng Yanxin at a few events. Her impression of the actress was that she was always smiling and seemed non-threatening. People said she had a great temper and never lost her cool, even with the paparazzi.

But no matter how good her temper was, surely she wouldn’t be happy about being forcibly pushed out of a hotel by a stranger?

“She didn’t seem angry. She even gave me her WeChat and said we could discuss acting techniques.”

After a moment of silence, a noise came from the side. Ning Xiangxiang was struggling to push her wheelchair toward the door. Lin Junru hurried to help, dropping her props. “Sister, where are you going? I’ll take you.”

“I haven’t seen such a kind person in a long time,” Ning Xiangxiang said. “I’m going to wander the main road too. Maybe I’ll run into her. One person in a wheelchair pushing another person in a wheelchair—surely she’ll be touched by the sight?”

Just then, the assistant director pulled back the curtain and walked in. Seeing Ning Xiangxiang trying to leave and Lin Junru chasing her, he blocked the door with his rotund frame.

“Xiangxiang! Good thing you’re back. If we had finished the previous scenes and had to find a last-minute replacement, this small production couldn’t afford it. About that wire stunt last time… it was our fault for not checking properly. We won’t evade our responsibility. Please tell your mother…”

Seeing the director’s hesitant, shrinking manner, Ning Xiangxiang guessed what had happened. Her stepmother, Liu Si, must have come to the set to make a scene and demand compensation. Ning Xiangxiang’s injury was secondary; the fact that she couldn’t attend endorsements or events meant she wasn’t making money, which must have devastated Liu Si. And with Liu Si’s temper, her arrival likely stopped all filming.

In the past, she would have let Liu Si pull her strings because Liu Si held her mother’s medical fund. But what did submission bring? Liu Si and her father had no bottom line. Now, the more Liu Si showed her boorishness to others, the more advantageous it would be when they eventually parted ways.

Ning Xiangxiang smiled at the director. “My mother has a bit of a temper and can be hard to communicate with. I’m sorry for the trouble. I’ll pass on your message. Besides, it’s only natural for me to return to the set; it’s too late to replace me now anyway.”

“Good, good! We’ve modified the script. Your character will now be ‘injured’ in the story…” the director beamed. “It won’t affect the filming. We’ll film in a way that’s convenient for your recovery. Please tell your mother not to worry.”

Ning Xiangxiang nodded, clutching the script. In her previous life, she didn’t have many opportunities for real acting. Between the low-tier roles and Liu Si’s constant lectures that “acting is just a hobby, your real goal is to marry rich,” she never took it seriously.

But having lived that “Mrs. Huo” life—seeing women trapped by titles, losing their names under a husband’s surname—she realized the importance of independence and freedom.

“Today’s scene is a kissing scene. Get ready,” the assistant director said with a wave and walked out cheerfully.