The Heartless Alpha Just Wants to Follow the Plot - Chapter 43

Su Mo glanced at the script. It contained only three lines, yet her entrance was heavily staged, this was a pivotal moment marking the heroine’s psychological transformation.

After reading through the script and character notes, Su Mo already knew how she should perform.

The “superstar” character wasn’t deeply layered, but her exquisite beauty and dramatic entrance were designed to leave a stunning, unforgettable impression. That impression would linger in the heroine’s heart, shaping her lifelong dream around the image of the superstar.

Su Mo set the script aside. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

Director Jiang eyed her suspiciously. “You’re sure you’re ready? Don’t want to look it over again?”

Su Mo was speechless. Did such a simple character really require that much thought? Wasn’t the whole point just to dazzle at first sight?

Seeing her confidence, Jiang dropped the script and waved for his assistant to act opposite her. The assistant would play the heroine, while Su Mo took on the superstar, visiting the school to invest in a new teaching building, essentially a publicity stunt while assessing the school’s situation.

The heroine was a student at this rundown school, where both the facilities and equipment were outdated. In this small-town setting, she unexpectedly encountered a top-tier celebrity. The superstar, tasked by her agent, was to investigate the school and select promising students for sponsorship.

Because her reputation in the industry had recently soured, she needed this charitable act to restore her public image.

Su Mo closed her eyes briefly. She was only stepping into the original character’s shoes, she could handle this.

When she opened them again, her aura shifted instantly. Confidence radiated from her. She was already wearing heels—not extremely high, but tall enough to add ten centimeters and create a sense of dominance.

She strode forward, stopping in front of the assistant, her expression cool and detached. “Hello. Could you tell me where the principal’s office is?”

She looked down at the assistant, waiting for an answer.

The assistant froze, as though truly transported into the scene. Surrounded by people, the superstar had singled her out, scrutinizing her with a hint of disdain. Faced with such breathtaking beauty, her lips went dry, she couldn’t speak.

“You don’t know?”

Seeing the girl staring blankly, Su Mo frowned and turned away. The principal and dean hurried over, smiling obsequiously as they led her in another direction.

Before leaving, Su Mo, still in character casually pointed back at the assistant. “Include her in the sponsorship list.”

She was referring to the heroine.

“Good. Very good.”

Director Jiang was impressed. Su Mo had captured the aura perfectly, that cold, dismissive attitude was exactly what he wanted. It conveyed effortless superiority, a natural gap between her and everyone else.

Others had performed well, but their acting felt deliberate, contrived. Su Mo, however, seemed entirely natural, as if she was the character.

This was the state he had been searching for.

“Not bad. You’ve improved a lot.”

Director Jiang immediately confirmed Su Mo for the role.

Tan Ya, the director’s assistant was delighted. This was the first role Su Mo had secured purely on her own merit. Pu Ying had worried at first that Su Mo might not even manage to play herself convincingly. Thankfully, she hadn’t disappointed.

Pu Ying’s lips curved into a proud smile. “It suits her perfectly. This role is practically tailor-made. If she couldn’t manage this, then the future would be far more uncertain.”

Jiang chuckled, suddenly understanding Pu Ying’s meaning. If Su Mo hadn’t been able to win the role on her own, Feimu Entertainment would likely have invested in the production to create an extra part for her. He felt relieved that her acting had genuinely improved.

Su Mo folded her arms with a shrug. Having such backing felt wonderful, something she had never experienced in her Earth days. If she could choose, she wouldn’t want to leave.

Still, the idea of endlessly playing other people didn’t stir much ambition in her.

After signing the contract, Su Mo left with Pu Ying. Outside, she spotted Qiu Fu waiting for her audition, with the quiet, reserved Raya standing beside her.

Su Mu’s gaze swept briefly over Raya before she discreetly nodded at Qiu Fu. Their public personas were rivals, so they couldn’t appear too familiar.

Qiu Fu resisted the urge to approach her and instead sent a message through her light-brain: [You came to audition?]

Su Mu casually lifted her device. [Mm.]

Qiu Fu: [Which role?]

Though she already suspected the answer, she wanted to hear it directly.

Su Mo replied while walking out: [The superstar. You?]

The two acted as though they were truly at odds, ignoring each other’s presence, faces cold as they stared at their devices. Observers immediately began whispering gossip.

“Looks like they really don’t get along. Was that rumor about Su Mo paying Qiu Fu’s penalty fee fake? They don’t seem close at all. And when they looked at each other, their eyes were full of hostility.”

In truth, Su Mo had only felt a flicker of discomfort when her gaze fell on Raya. She sneezed suddenly. Pu Ying immediately turned to her, adjusting her mask.

Su Mo stood obediently, replying to messages while leaning down naturally to let Pu Ying fix it. Then she noticed the faint dark circles under Pu Ying’s eyes, clear signs of sleepless nights.

She asked softly, “Busy lately?”

Pu Ying’s hand paused mid-motion. “Hm?”

“Why do you ask?”

Su Mu spoke honestly:

“I can tell you don’t look well. No matter how busy work gets, you still need proper rest.”

Pu Ying finished straightening Su Mo’s crooked collar and withdrew her hand.

“As long as you don’t cause me trouble, I’ll be able to rest just fine.”

She didn’t say aloud that her recent sleepless nights were all because of Su Mo suddenly stirring up matters with Qiu Fu and Tan Ya. The elder of the Tan family had already dispatched people to share the burden, and one more round of pressure would likely be enough to break Tan Xing.

He was never particularly capable to begin with—push him a little, and his flaws would spill everywhere.

Pausing, Pu Ying leaned closer, lowering her voice to a grave whisper:

“My people discovered that Tan Ya’s parents’ encounter with star pirates wasn’t an accident. It was likely deliberate. Someone leaked the ship’s route, timing, and the passengers’ identities, deliberately luring the pirates there.”

“And the suspect is most likely Tan Xing.”

Su Mo’s brows furrowed deeply. “He did this for Tan Corporation?”

“Very likely.”

Pu Ying explained:

“Back when Tan Ya’s father was alive, he invited Tan Xing to co-invest and run a company together. It would have been a guaranteed profit. But Tan Xing refused, he didn’t want to risk even the slightest chance of loss. Instead, he lent money to Tan Ya’s father, expecting repayment once profits came in.”

“Later, when Tan Corporation was already on track, Tan Ya’s father, remembering their brotherhood, offered him a chance to convert that loan into shares. That way, he could enjoy continuous dividends.”

Tan Xing hesitated, then agreed but demanded double dividends in the first year, claiming he was an original shareholder.

Out of brotherly loyalty, Tan Ya’s father conceded. Just one year of double returns, he thought. I’ll earn a little less, that’s all.

But after receiving the money, Tan Xing wasn’t satisfied. He began scheming against Tan Corporation. First, he tried to insert his own child into the company, but Tan Ya’s father refused.

Tan Xing took this as distrust. Resentment grew into murderous intent. He believed he was capable, so why shouldn’t he, as an original shareholder, become the general manager? Why settle for small dividends instead of the lion’s share?

Tempted by greed, he chose to betray Tan Ya’s parents. During one of their business trips, he leaked their whereabouts to interstellar pirates.

Afterward, he took advantage of the chaos to brand Tan Ya a “lunatic” and locked her away in a basement.

Though much had already been uncovered, there was still no hard evidence linking Tan Xing to the pirates. He had erased his tracks thoroughly back then. The only way to prove it would be to find those pirates, murderers who vanished without a trace.

But the galaxy was vast. They drifted endlessly, their location unknown. They had fled so quickly that even the Federation failed to identify which group had killed Tan Ya’s parents.

Without evidence, overturning the case was impossible.

Su Mo’s brows tightened further, forming a deep crease. This was troublesome, very troublesome.

“We’ll discuss this later,” she said. Too many people were around; it wasn’t the right place.

Pu Ying straightened, stepped back to a proper distance, and casually brushed imaginary dust from Su Mo’s shoulder.

“Mm.”

The scene stood out in the waiting room. The two were close, speaking in hushed tones only they could hear. Su Mo had leaned in, and Pu Ying had deliberately drawn nearer. To outsiders, it looked as though Su Mo was seeking an embrace, and Pu Ying, unable to refuse, had reluctantly allowed it.

The onlookers gawked, eyes wide, as though they’d stumbled upon juicy gossip. Everyone knew Su Mo was bold and unrestrained, but none expected her to “target” even her own agent.

Qiu Fu’s breath caught at the sight. She quickly averted her gaze. She knew Su Mo had no ulterior motives, those eyes were far too pure. In some ways, Su Mo’s self-control was extraordinary.

Anyone who could endure even in moments of extreme vulnerability wasn’t the kind of person others gossiped about—someone reckless, indiscriminate, or shameless.

Qiu Fu reminded herself: she had to learn to trust her.