The Fallen Film Queen’s Possessive Alpha - Chapter 20

After seeing off the representatives from Top Profit who came to discuss the follow-up promotion for “Fire Fuse,” Xiang Zi and Yan Zhuo returned to the office. The visitors were no strangers Su Ye and Zuo Yang.

“This Miss Zuo at least lives up to her family business, not quite the spendthrift type.”

Yan Zhuo remarked mildly. Though their positions conflicted, it didn’t prevent her from giving a fair assessment. She knew about Xiang Zi’s encounter with these two at the Walden Film Festival, but she’d also met Zuo Xingyu, the eldest son of the Zuo family. If Top Profit were ever handed to him, the Zuo family’s decline wouldn’t be far off.

“What I can’t stand is Su Ye.”

Xiang Zi drew clear lines in her grudges. Song Haoyin had also mentioned that Zuo Yang didn’t get along with Zuo Wangxun. Children have no choice in the families they’re born into. But Su Ye? That was outright betrayal completely different.

“Top Profit keeping Su Ye around shows they still have ulterior motives regarding Haoyin.”

The reasoning was obvious upon reflection. When it came to understanding Song Haoyin’s career, what did Zuo Wangxun know? Aside from Song Yu, who genuinely cared for her daughter, Su Ye was the one who’d been by Song Haoyin’s side for years. Otherwise, Su Ye wouldn’t have known the whereabouts of that embezzling manager or so easily sold out Song Haoyin.

“Still, with that Miss Zhou in the picture now, Top Profit has to tread carefully. As long as their partnership remains stable for the next three to five years and Haoyin advances further in her career, Top Profit won’t be able to touch her.”

Xiang Zi disliked hearing this and immediately countered, “Are you saying getting involved with that Alpha was actually a good thing?”

“Fortune and misfortune are intertwined, who’s to say it can’t turn out well?”

The melancholy clinging to Yan Zhuo grew heavier by the day. Years after losing her wife, she hadn’t moved on; instead, she sank deeper into the past. Whenever Xiang Zi tried to counsel her, Yan Zhuo would say she’d already reached the pinnacle of her career and had nothing left to strive for. Not even forty yet what a shame.

When Song Haoyin returned to the studio that afternoon, she found her two mentors practicing the “silent meditation” in Yan Zhuo’s office.

“What’s going on with you two? Where’s Yuan Zhi? Why isn’t she here?”

“Yuan Zhi said she had something to attend to. As for us… we just met with Su Ye and Zuo Yang.”

Ah, so the meeting must not have gone well. Song Haoyin understood. Xiang Zi informed her that Top Profit had no objections about the follow-up promotions. Sending those two today was their way of clearly stating they’d accept profit shares according to their original investment stake no additional demands.

Just as Song Haoyin had anticipated, they were restraining themselves because of Zhou Qiwei, not wanting complications at this critical juncture. But sometimes, the tree may crave calm while the wind refuses to settle. Song Haoyin smiled oddly. “Guess who I ran into earlier?”

“I met Li Nian.”

Li Nian had once been signed to the studio but later terminated her contract to join Top Profit’s agency when Song Yu fell seriously ill. Su Ye had handled the matter, and Song Haoyin never learned the details.

In this industry, not being famous isn’t a crime. Everyone knows minor fame depends on promotion, while major fame relies on fate. Not being famous is fine as long as you have skills, you can always scrape by. These “skills” don’t even require exceptional acting talent; knowing how to navigate social situations counts too. But Li Nian possessed none of these.

Her acting was mediocre, her audience appeal ordinary, her looks merely pleasant, and her interpersonal skills nothing to write home about. Even her performance at social drinking gatherings could only be described as… knowing how to hold her liquor.

Such a person leaving the studio if they hadn’t met today, Song Haoyin would have completely forgotten about her.

“Li Nian?”

Yan Zhuo vaguely remembered the name because this person had debuted in a film starring Yan Zhuo herself. However, Yan Zhuo only recalled the name faintly and had no impression of the person.

“What’s so special about her?” Xiang Zi asked casually, tossing her jacket over the back of a chair before perching on the table a perfect image of a middle-aged punk.

“Nothing special, really. But today, she suddenly wanted to tell me something. Before she could finish, her agent stopped her.”

Recalling the scene, Song Haoyin still found it amusing. She had merely noticed that Li Nian carried a rather strong scent, but Zhou Qiwei had nearly jumped three feet back in disgust before staggering dizzily against Song Haoyin, who eventually had to escort her back to the lab.

What Li Nian had tried to tell her was just one short sentence: Dingyi is mass-abusing synthetic pheromones.

The statement seemed more directed at Zhou Qiwei after all, Rubik’s Industrial was the undisputed leader in that field, something everyone knew. Before Li Nian could elaborate, her agent quickly pulled her away. But the questions were obvious:

1.

Where did Li Nian get that chaotic mix of pheromones on her? Had she attended some kind of shady gathering?

2.

Why would Dingyi a company that started in talent agencies and film investments need large quantities of synthetic pheromones?

Song Haoyin had never heard of any scandals involving Dingyi in this regard, and neither had Xiang Zi or Yan Zhuo. Yan Zhuo offered a guess: “I suspect it’s something shady that Dingyi has managed to keep hidden all these years. Otherwise, Haoyin and the rest of us would’ve heard about it by now.”

“Impossible.”

Xiang Zi cut in, unconvinced. “At gatherings or parties, even if the participants stay silent, there are waitstaff, organizers, and so many others involved. It’s hard to keep something completely under wraps. Dingyi has been around for decades, and we’ve never heard of anything like this. Besides, pheromone abuse is a serious crime.”

“Qiwei said the same thing. And mass production of synthetic pheromones has only become feasible in recent years,” Song Haoyin explained.

“Then there’s only one possibility,” Yan Zhuo said slowly, gazing at the sunset outside the window. “This is something recent at Dingyi Li Nian hasn’t been with them long. And if she knows about it, it means they’re not being particularly discreet. Of course, they’re not flaunting it either just keeping the circle small, with insiders unwilling to talk.”

“I agree with Zhuo,” Xiang Zi nodded this time. “Insiders can’t expose it without implicating themselves, so they stay quiet. Fewer people know, fewer mouths run loose. But why would Li Nian tell you ?”

“Qiwei thinks she might’ve been forced into something and wanted to ask for help,” Song Haoyin said. Though she personally believed Zhou Qiwei’s explanation, she still wanted their opinions. “She said Li Nian probably sees me as someone with a reason to go after Dingyi at the very least, it’s leverage. Her goal was likely hoping I’d pull her out of trouble someday.”

Yan Zhuo nodded silently, while Xiang Zi smirked. “Seems that CEO Zhou’s brain works just fine. Hah. I suppose that counts as a redeeming quality.”

Over the past two months, whenever this topic came up, Song Haoyin had refrained from commenting on Zhou Qiwei’s character. But today, she unexpectedly spoke up in her defense: “A-actually, Zhou Qiwei has many good qualities. The rumors circulating outside are like stories you can’t believe everything you hear.”

Xiang Zi was speechless, while Yan Zhuo struggled to suppress her laughter. It seemed Yuan Zhi was right there really was something going on here.

Zuo Yang disliked Su Ye. According to her values, anyone who would stab a good friend in the back was scum. But both her uncle and her father insisted on working with Su Ye, forcing Zuo Yang to reluctantly interact with her. She hadn’t wanted to visit Song Haoyin’s studio this time, but work obligations demanded her personal presence.

“Your going in person shows our willingness to let bygones be bygones,” her third uncle Zuo Wanggong had told her.

But Zuo Yang had a different perspective: “Then does Su Ye going mean we’re still intent on making trouble?” The two of them showing up together would just be adding insult to injury for Song Haoyin.

Zuo Wanggong could only shrug, he wasn’t the company’s decision-maker: “Your uncle and father insist on using Su Ye, so just bear with it. When you’re there, just say we’re fully cooperative. With ‘The Spark’s’ box office clearly taking off, Top Interest won’t make any moves.”

In short, they had to play the humble supplicant before Song Haoyin no, more accurately, the humble granddaughter. All because the Zuo family didn’t want to provoke that madwoman Zhou Qiwei.

Perhaps some deity finally heard Zuo Yang’s silent prayers, when they arrived, Song Haoyin wasn’t there. Thank heavens. After leaving the studio, Zuo Yang immediately put distance between herself and Su Ye. There was something unsettling about how the creative director kept looking at her. No matter what excuses she made, Su Ye insisted they should return to the office together.

Back at company headquarters, Zuo Yang finally shook off Su Ye and headed for the chairman’s office only to be stopped by the secretary, who informed her that Qu Jinghan, Top Interest’s second-largest shareholder from World Group, was currently inside.

She was probably here about the stalled negotiations with Kyushu. The Zuo family grew increasingly anxious as talks dragged on, while Kyushu remained unfazed a testament to the difference in institutional strength and scale. If playing the humble granddaughter could help Top Interest secure this connection with Kyushu and establish substantial business ties, Zuo Yang thought, it might be worth it.

With Kyushu’s partnership, Top Interest could expand into previously inaccessible sectors high-end materials, aviation and shipping, even military contracts. Having a powerful partner’s endorsement would be far easier than struggling to prove themselves through likely futile efforts.

The bitter irony was that even if they succeeded, this expanded empire would eventually go to Zuo Xingyu not her.

The atmosphere inside the office was far less cordial than Zuo Yang imagined. As Top Interest’s second-largest shareholder and earliest investor, World Group should have been a steadfast ally. But that was during old Mr. Qu’s time the current Qu Jinghan operated by different rules.

She had come demanding clear answers from Zuo Wangshao about his grand promises at the board meeting: packaging their media company and distribution business for sale to Kyushu, then partnering with Kyushu’s Panyan Cultural subsidiary to expand into industrial sectors. Even just handling upstream and downstream operations would elevate Top Interest to new heights, he’d claimed.

Now, witnessing Kyushu’s aggressive price slashing clearly aiming to take a huge bite out of Top Advantage should this deal even proceed? Top Advantage has made concession after concession, but does Kyushu even respect this company?

“The Zhou family has never crossed boundaries all these years. Doing business with us now is just standard commercial practice. We sell, they buy price negotiations are normal. Director Qu surely understands this; there’s no need for urgency.” Zuo Wangshao spoke carefully, somewhat intimidated by Qu Jinghan’s presence.

But Qu Jinghan wasn’t having it. Her brows furrowed as she pressed sharply, “I’m not asking about Kyushu right now, I’m asking you. By letting them drive down prices, you’re harming the interests of all shareholders!”

The dagger was now unsheathed. Only then did Zuo Wangshao realize today wasn’t about inquiries it was an outright power play.

“What exactly are you implying, Director Qu?” Zuo forced a smile, rising from behind his desk to brace his hands on its surface. “Our families have had two generations of ties. Surely you wouldn’t disregard that goodwill?”

“No, Chairman Zuo. Shareholder interests come before all else.”

Qu Jinghan leaned back into the sofa as if in her own office, declaring with righteous conviction, “Or are you suggesting that, for the sake of friendship, I should help you deceive minority shareholders?”

You hypocritical snake playing the hero now! Zuo nearly spat the words out. But rupturing relations with Qu Jinghan now, letting her rally the minority shareholders, would truly sabotage the negotiations.

As she watched him weigh his words, Qu Jinghan couldn’t help recalling the family dinner the night before. Courage and vision clearly had nothing to do with age. Some grew only more timid with years, while others defied expectations like her daughter’s childhood friend.

At that dinner, before Qu could even thank Zhou Qiwei for visiting Qu Yuanzhi abroad multiple times, Zhou had already proposed a flawless vision.

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