The Film Queen Is Cold and Ruthless, Only Sends Money - Chapter 6

The entertainment industry is constantly evolving, and to be remembered by others, a well-crafted persona is essential.

Whether it’s the gentle, understanding flower or the cold, aloof girl, each has a unique trait that makes them memorable.

Take Liu Yangran, for example. Her marketing strategy revolved around being the “Little Jiang Zhi.”

But when it came to personality, she knew she could never replicate Jiang Zhi’s innate elegance, so she positioned herself as a gentle, talented actress.

As for her true nature whether it had anything to do with gentleness, no one really cared.

After seeing the flood of negative comments under Su Yun’s Weibo post, Liu Yangran felt completely at ease and stopped paying attention to the matter.

She wanted to discuss with her agent whether they should buy a trending hashtag about her appearance on the variety show Dear Them.

But just as she put down her phone, before she could even speak, a rapid series of “ding-ding-ding” notification sounds filled the air.

Her agent urged her to check her phone first. “Did something go wrong with the Weibo post you just made?”

Liu Yangran opened her phone and saw notifications popping up incessantly, all related to Su Yun.

“Your follow @Su Yun commented one minute ago.”

“Your follow @Su Yun replied to a comment one minute ago.”

“Your follow @Su Yun has new trending content worth checking out.”

She had secretly followed Su Yun on a secondary account, so naturally, she received alerts whenever Su Yun posted or commented.

Her agent mentally sighed at Liu Yangran’s closeted behavior before opening the trending page. “Su Yun is trending.”

The topic was gaining traction at an alarming speed. With every refresh, its ranking climbed higher, and new related hashtags kept emerging.

Su Yun’s witty replies, combined with people sharing their own stories about overcoming internal struggles, fueled the growing buzz.

At this point, Liu Yangran also saw Su Yun’s comment under her post.

Her grip on the phone tightened in anger, and the usual gentleness in her eyes vanished completely. “What does she mean by this?”

Her agent patted her back soothingly. “Don’t get so worked up. Right now, Su Yun seems to be attacking indiscriminately.”

To put it bluntly, anyone with eyes could see that Su Yun had only come after Liu Yangran because the latter had tacitly allowed her fans to drag others down.

For instance, Jing Chaochao had also reposted the show’s Weibo post, but since she kept a low profile, Su Yun naturally didn’t bother her.

In a way, Su Yun was being almost excessively rational.

Under Liu Yangran’s post, the most popular comment was Su Yun’s, filled with endless “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.”

The likes had already far surpassed the original post itself.

This silent mockery made Liu Yangran seethe, but with no outlet for her anger, she could only glare at her phone, ready to delete this humiliating post.

Her fingers pressed down with excessive force, as if she were jabbing at Su Yun’s face rather than the screen.

But before she could touch it, her agent intercepted her mid-motion.

She looked up, both furious and aggrieved. “Sister Han, can’t I delete it? Or do you also think my post is ridiculous?”

The agent shook her head. “Calm down first. Look at who’s commenting under your post.”

Most of Su Yun’s followers were either anti-fans or just spectators hardly the type to fight battles for her.

So the endless “HAHAHAHAHAHA” flooding the comments were all from random netizens passing by.

If Liu Yangran were to suddenly delete her Weibo post now, not only would she lose a lot of goodwill from casual followers, but she might also be labeled as “triggered” all because of a single remark from Su Yun.

Though, to be honest, she was pretty triggered right now.

But at the very least, she couldn’t let it show in public.

After her manager’s reminder, Liu Yangran snapped back to reality. Her hand, frozen mid-air, eventually dropped heavily to her side.

Her manager patted her shoulder and added a few words of comfort: “It’s fine. The engagement on this post is better than before we’re not losing out.”

At least they’d managed to ride on Su Yun’s coattails.

Liu Yangran: “…”

If you don’t know how to comfort someone, you really don’t have to.

Realizing she’d said the wrong thing, the manager reflected for a moment perhaps she’d been influenced after just scrolling through Su Yun’s Weibo.

She changed the subject. “In six months or a year, when no one remembers, you can delete it if you want.”

But for now? Impossible.

Liu Yangran let out a sullen “Mm,” exiting the page, unwilling to look any longer. Yet the top trending post on her homepage was Su Yun’s hashtag, along with the show’s official endorsement.

Liu Yangran grew even angrier.

–

Having successfully triggered Liu Yangran with a single sentence, Su Yun remained the picture of serenity, her triumph hidden beneath a veneer of nonchalance.

Her daily life consisted of eating, playing games, and occasionally reposting promotional content for Dearest Them on Weibo.

She discovered that netizens had even given her a nickname Life Coach.

When she saw it, she was speechless for a rare two seconds: “…”

People really trust me, huh?

But these memes were just for fun, a way for everyone to unwind.

When it came to discussing Su Yun’s past dramas, songs, or variety show appearances, however, netizens were oddly unanimous in their verdict: Protect your eyes and ears, don’t subject yourself to the torture.

Curious, Su Yun dug up one of the original host’s old dramas to see if it was truly as bad as the novel described.

Five seconds in, she decisively gave up.

The internet never lies, I should’ve listened.

The original host’s acting was indescribable. Her facial expressions either flailed wildly or remained completely frozen she’d somehow mastered both extremes.

Su Yun could tell the original host had been determined to improve, but perhaps her desperation backfired, making her performance even more jarring.

Seeing negative comments online, she’d convinced herself she wasn’t making progress and simply gave up, leaving her skills stagnant.

Unlike Su Yun, who firmly believed in the philosophy: Nothing is impossible as long as you’re willing to quit.

If acting wasn’t her forte, she’d find another path. And if she failed? Well, there was always another road to take.

–

“I can do this. I will do this.”

A certain girl, whose mindset was the polar opposite of Su Yun’s, quietly pumped herself up.

Wang Yue was a new intern at Apple Video this year. She’d originally applied for the news department, but due to staffing limits, she’d been assigned to the Dearest Them variety show team instead.

She didn’t watch much variety programming, but after a quick search and seeing tags like “travel,” “lighthearted,” and “heartwarming” attached to Dearest Them, she breathed a sigh of relief.

After receiving the show’s reference materials from a colleague, Wang Yue began studying and comparing notes.

The first page of the document was titled Beginner’s Guide: FAQ & Answers.

[1. Dearest Them: General Introduction
2. Show Format & Key Points to Note During Live Broadcasts.]

3.

Regarding the planning process for show games and locations.

4.

……]

The preceding content was all quite standard, but at the end, there were a few special additional notes attached.

[1. If guests or couples argue and request a pause in the live broadcast or announce their withdrawal from the show on the spot, the staff handling procedures are as follows.]

2.

If conflicts arise between two teams of guests, leading to a complete lack of communication and interaction, making filming difficult, the staff handling procedures are as follows.

3.

If a certain couple of guests requests.]

Fresh graduate Wang Yue was utterly shocked. If these issues were considered “entry-level,” then she might as well be digging her own grave while working.

Only after she finished reviewing the training materials and caught up on the first two seasons of Dear Them did her idealized view of the show shatter, and she realized just how useful these contingency plans were.

As an audience member, she naturally enjoyed watching the drama and excitement, but as a staff member who had to deal with the aftermath of every conflict and public backlash, each incident was nerve-wracking.

This morning, as soon as Wang Yue arrived at her workstation, she received some unfortunate news.

The show’s director called her into the office and explained, “Xiao Yue, Assistant Director Liu had an acute allergic reaction last night and was hospitalized. You might have to take charge of today’s pilot episode filming.”

Since joining the production team, Wang Yue had been learning under Assistant Director Liu’s guidance.

The team had previously assigned the pilot episode filming and subsequent follow-up shoots for Jiang Zhi and Su Yun’s segment to them.

Now that Assistant Director Liu was in the hospital, Wang Yue was the only one left who fully understood the pilot episode’s process and detailed design.

Wang Yue was nervous. “Director, everyone in our group participated in this design. They should all be able to help with hosting.”

Handing everything over to her alone, Wang Yue was genuinely afraid she’d mess it up.

The director, of course, knew this and had already considered it. She said, “Xiao Yue, you’ve been with the team for three months now, always learning. This is the perfect opportunity to put what you’ve learned into practice and grow faster.”

With things put this way, Wang Yue couldn’t bring herself to refuse and had no choice but to accept.

Since they were assigned to follow Jiang Zhi and Su Yun, they had naturally familiarized themselves with the two’s personalities, habits, and other details in advance, reviewing the compiled materials multiple times.

As for one of the filming subjects, Su Yun, her reputation preceded her whether it was her diva behavior or lack of acting skills, Wang Yue was already well-acquainted.

On the way to Su Yun’s home for the shoot, Wang Yue took a deep breath, silently reciting the contingency plans in her mind, giving herself a quiet pep talk.

–

The show’s pilot episode wasn’t part of the main content and thus wasn’t filmed live.

It was shot separately at each guest’s home, edited into an opening segment, and released before the official premiere of the show.

Since Dear Them was a romance reality show, the pilot episode was meant to be warm and cozy, with few strict requirements just enough to showcase each couple’s dynamic.

On one hand, it allowed the audience to get a preliminary understanding of how each couple interacted, deepening their connection with the viewers.

On the other hand, the celebrity couples were all high-profile figures in the entertainment industry, and their daily lives would inevitably contrast with their public personas, helping the show generate buzz more effectively.

After listening to her manager’s explanation, Su Yun said, “Got it. So I just act as I normally would, no script, right?”

Li Xinyi: “Right, I have a meeting at the company today and can’t come to keep you company. Will you be okay on your own?”

Su Yun glanced around the house everything was spotless, at least leaving a decent impression. “Of course, don’t worry. It won’t be a problem.”

Li Xinyi glanced up at the clock on the wall. The production crew should be arriving at Su Yun’s villa soon. She asked, “Has Actress Jiang returned yet?”

A few days ago, she had received a call from Wen Yun, saying that Jiang Zhi needed to make an emergency trip out of town for reshoots on a film.

There was a good chance she wouldn’t make it back in time for the preliminary shoot, so she was giving them a heads-up.

Hearing her agent’s words, Su Yun lowered her gaze to the message list on her phone, a text from Jiang Zhi had just come in.

“She’ll probably be back in about two hours,” Su Yun said.

“Alright, don’t be nervous. If anything comes up, you can try asking the actress for help.”

Su Yun heard voices on the other end of the line, notifying her agent that the meeting was about to start. She cut off the reminders: “Li-jie, go ahead to your meeting. I know what to do.”

By the time the call ended, Su Yun’s eyes were still fixed on Jiang Zhi’s messages.

[Fortune-Bestowing Bodhisattva: Sorry, I’m still on the highway. Should be back in Haicheng in about two hours.

[Fortune-Bestowing Bodhisattva: I’ve already explained to the production crew they can start filming the preliminary segment without waiting for me.]

[Su Yun: Got it~ Drive safely!]

The other woman’s profile picture was simple, just a few strokes of ink outlining petals, the white background interwoven with minimalist black lines, elegant and refined.

Of course, even if Jiang Zhi’s profile picture had been the kind of “blooming prosperity” favored by the elderly, Su Yun would still have praised it.

After all, she could never forget the shock of realizing the bank transfer was real, or the moment she randomly rummaged through the study and found ten property deeds, all under her name.

Staring at Jiang Zhi’s profile picture, Su Yun realized that ever since transmigrating into this novel, she still hadn’t actually met the woman face-to-face.

Even though she had deliberately sought out Jiang Zhi’s films and interviews, there had always been a screen between them.

But it didn’t matter. In two hours, she would finally meet her Fortune-Bestowing Bodhisattva.

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