The Movie Queen And Her Rival Just Went Public! - Chapter 71

Chapter 71

A wave of cold dread washed over Su Cancan. Her mind raced at high speed, organizing language to steer Shen Luoyan away and avoid this “cometary collision” of a disaster. But before the words could leave her lips, the vermilion wooden doors at the end of the hall swung open.

A person stumbled out as if fleeing, nearly colliding with Su Cancan, Shen Luoyan, and Liu Yimin. Upon seeing them, the person rushed forward like they’d found their saviors.

“You’re finally here!” The frantic, helpless face belonged to the producer. As he reached them, a glimmer of hope sparked in his dull, weary eyes.

“Quick, quick.”

The producer spoke fast and moved faster. Using both hands, he grabbed the standby-mode Su Cancan and Shen Luoyan, dragging them toward the conference room.

Su Cancan’s limbs were stiff as she was pulled along; her brain was a jumble of static. By the time her thoughts cleared enough to break free, she was already standing at the conference room door.

She didn’t step inside. Standing at the threshold, she scanned the room. The top-floor meeting space wasn’t large; currently, only four or five people were seated. It wasn’t crowded, yet an indescribable sense of pressure bore down on her.

Aside from the producer beside her, she didn’t recognize any of the staff responsible for handling the situation. Her gaze skipped over the unfamiliar faces, met her grandmother’s eyes, and then was immediately captured by her grandfather.

Among the group, Elder Su was the most striking and upright.

Su Cancan’s 1.68m height was entirely thanks to her grandfather, who stood nearly 1.9m tall. Had it not been for his superior genes raising the average, she likely would have taken after her grandmother and topped out at 1.6m.

Even sitting down, the tall old man towered over those around him. His attire was equally eye-catching.

He wore a pure black Mao suit (Zhongshan suit), ironed so perfectly not a single wrinkle remained. Beneath it, his shirt collar was snow-white. His arms rested casually on the sofa’s armrests, fingers curved naturally—the very image of a king.

Oh no. The Mao suit.

In Su Cancan’s memory, she had only seen her grandfather wear that suit twice. Including the times she’d heard about, it was only thrice.

The first time she saw it in person was the year she graduated from middle school and had to fill out her high school applications.

Her grades were excellent; while not quite as top-tier as Shen Luoyan’s, she was still a “child of someone else” ranked in the city’s top thousand. Her parents had planned out the “perfect path” for her: a prestigious high school, a target university, and a specific major.

Just as everything was about to be set in stone, she finally overcame her fear of authority and expressed her true wish: to take the Art Exam route and become an actress.

Before that, Su Cancan didn’t know that rebellion was the only way to get her busy parents’ attention. In the eyes of aunts and uncles, she was a beautiful and obedient child; the word “resistance” had never appeared in the first fifteen years of her life. Defying her parents’ orders cost her dearly. There was no physical punishment, but what followed was worse.

Her mother, who was usually busy with corporate business, began taking her to work. The disappointed glares, the cold words, the inquisitive looks from employees—to force her onto the “correct” path, they didn’t hesitate to suppress and dismantle the mental fortress she had built for years.

Dense, boundless dark clouds loomed over the fifteen-year-old dreamer. She was no longer sunny; she was full of self-doubt. She felt like she was drowning, slowly sinking to the bottom, her nerves becoming numb.

They say sunlight can tear through darkness and push away the clouds.

On the day the young Su Cancan was about to break and surrender, she met her “Sun,” arriving aggressively in a Mao suit.

When the grandparents realized their cherished granddaughter had been transformed into a ghost after just a few days with her parents, Elder Su donned his “battle armor” and stormed the company to give his son and daughter-in-law a piece of his mind.

Su Cancan still remembered that day. Sunlight flooded the office through the glass, and her beloved grandfather shielded her behind him, clearing obstacles and blocking the wind and rain.

That day, his tall silhouette seemed to radiate golden light.

Fast forward the timeline: the Mao suit appeared again when she signed with Qian Weiyi.

Once the major obstacle to her acting career was removed, her path was relatively smooth. With her vivid, bright features, she was the first “civilian” to trend during the Art Exams. At the film academy, she was the most vibrant flower. Her grandparents rarely interfered with her studies, but they requested one meeting before she signed with Qian Weiyi.

The contract that was currently nearing its end had been signed under her grandfather’s supervision. Back then, she was too naive to understand the pros and cons; seeing clauses that heavily favored her, she thought her grandfather was being “extra.” Looking back now, it was the safety net he had woven for her long ago.

Thinking of that signing day, Su Cancan let out a soft chuckle.

Back then, her grandfather was her backbone, strategizing and protecting her. Meanwhile, the “ambitious youth” Qian Weiyi was so poor he only had his ideals left; he wasn’t tall and was extremely thin. Standing before the Elder, he couldn’t stop shaking and agreed to every single demand.

Time had passed. The “thin dough” had hardened into a “tough biscuit,” and one bite revealed a belly full of schemes.

Sighing, Su Cancan’s eyes felt hot and swollen, the corners turning a soft pink. Time moved so fast; ten years had vanished in a blink.

She was no longer the little girl who would hide in self-blame because of a displeased word. She was no longer the ignorant, brash teenager. She had grown into a mature woman who could stand on her own.

But her grandfather was still that old man who worried and sacrificed for her. No matter if his hair was white or if time had carved deep lines into his face, as long as she needed him, he would stand up to protect her.

“Sweetheart, come sit.”

To match her husband’s attire, Grandmother wore a plain-colored qipao. Born into a refined family, her every gesture exuded elegance.

As she spoke, the attention of everyone in the room shifted. The producer retracted his hands from the girls’ shoulders. Su Cancan walked slowly to her grandmother’s side and sat between her grandparents.

The sofa dipped. Now, she was sitting directly opposite Shen Luoyan.

Like a small beast on the savanna, Shen Luoyan was leisurely enjoying a quiet afternoon, completely unaware of the danger closing in. Su Cancan stole a glance at her grandparents’ expressions and silently prayed for her.

“Sweetheart, it hurts, doesn’t it?”

Grandmother gently took her hand, turning the palm upward. The white gauze hid the skin; only a few traces of blood had seeped through, making it look more like a stylish wrap than a wound.

It was just a minor scrape, and it had been handled properly. She didn’t feel much pain, but her grandmother’s concern magnified her senses.

Grief and grievance welled up from her chest. Su Cancan pouted and shook her head.

“This doesn’t hurt much.” She leaned in and whispered into her grandmother’s ear, “But I fell hard on my butt. It’s all swollen.”

The hand her grandmother was using to stroke her paused, then swatted her shoulder—not too hard, but not too light either.

“Young lady, be refined.”

Su Cancan knew the swat was coming; she twisted her body, and the force that landed was less than half of what was intended.

Everyone in the room remained in their positions. Shen Luoyan watched her, Liu Yimin watched her, and the staff watched her.

Under so many gazes, Su Cancan straightened her posture, dropping the casual act. She patted her grandfather’s arm and whispered, “What’s going on that requires such a big scene?”

Elder Su didn’t look at her. He cleared his throat, a deep, powerful voice vibrating from his chest. “I’m here to discuss Cancan’s matters. There’s no need for outsiders to be present, is there?”

The Elder’s hawk-like, sharp gaze landed on Shen Luoyan. She was still standing straight by the door, but her face grew a few shades paler.

Su Cancan followed her grandfather’s gaze. She knew he was trying to humiliate Shen Luoyan because of “that incident” years ago. His tone was forceful, his aura overwhelming.

But seeing Shen Luoyan’s pitiful expression—looking at her like an innocent, lost puppy—Su Cancan couldn’t help but soften.

“Alright, Grandpa. If we’re talking about my business, let’s talk about it behind closed doors.”

To everyone’s surprise, she stood up and walked to the door. She grabbed Liu Yimin and the producer with each hand and dragged them into the “execution ground.” Then, pressing against Shen Luoyan’s shoulder, she pushed her out.

“My grandparents have a prejudice against you. I don’t have time to explain to you or to them.” Su Cancan’s voice was so low only she and Shen Luoyan could hear.

Shen Luoyan blinked. “I… I can go in and explain.”

“No, you can’t explain this either.”

“Go back to your room and rest. You’ve been busy all day, and your injury is serious. Go rest early.”

“I… this concerns the production team, I can have a say as well.”

For some reason, Shen Luoyan was persistent about staying, her expression incredibly sincere. Su Cancan clicked her tongue—not in annoyance, but with a softening of her voice.

“Be good. I can handle my own business here. If it involves us both later, we’ll do it together.” She lowered her hand and tilted her head slightly. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

She’s using the ‘honey trap’! She’s coaxing me!

How could Shen Luoyan resist? As if under a spell, she nodded obediently, turned, and left.

Such an easy child to coax.

How did she survive in the entertainment industry being this gullible?

Su Cancan watched Shen Luoyan’s retreating figure and shook her head. Once she disappeared around the corner, Su Cancan took a deep breath, re-entered the conference room, and closed the door.

“Since there are no outsiders, I won’t beat around the bush…”

In the industry, having parents at a negotiation was one thing; having grandparents was almost unheard of.

Compared to the “small fry” on-site earlier that afternoon, the people sent by the production team now were definitely management level.

These managers had been called over by a certain investor earlier to handle the “Viky injury incident.” In this very room, Viky had leaned on that investor and cried like a wilting pear in the rain. Heartbroken, the investor used both coaxing and pressure to demand they find trouble for Su Cancan and Shen Luoyan.

They didn’t know the exact extent of Shen Luoyan and Su Cancan’s injuries, but they heard from on-site staff that Shen Luoyan’s was serious and involved significant blood.

They were already wary of Shen Luoyan’s influence—and they had bet all their chips on her for the show’s success—so they planned to shift the blame. They intended to pile the pressure onto Su Cancan, who was less famous and had no apparent backing.

After an unpleasant dinner with the investor and suffering through veiled insults, they had let the investor go. Their frustration had been simmering while waiting for Su Cancan to return.

Upon hearing that Su Cancan’s grandparents had arrived, they planned to intimidate the two elderly people first, making Su Cancan back down and behave for the rest of the show.

Unexpectedly, someone was intimidated—them.

The Elder was formal, serious, and possessed an innate authority. They suddenly couldn’t figure out the background of these two old people, and their confidence wavered.

Elder Su glanced at the staff, took a sip of tea, and felt the warm liquid slide down his throat. He shifted his brow. “How much is Cancan’s contract termination fee? It can’t be more than fifty million, right?”

“Fifty million” came out of his mouth like he was saying “fifty bucks.” One must remember that the entire starting budget for the show’s preparation was only around sixty million.

The managers looked at each other, not daring to speak.

“Don’t worry, we won’t terminate. We’ve always taught Cancan to finish what she starts. She’s filmed for over a month, worked hard, and got injured. There’s no reason to stop now. Besides, we won’t let you earn a termination fee for nothing.”

Hearing this, they thought they smelled something different. Is the old man just bluffing?

Elder Su set the teacup down. The porcelain base hit the solid wood table with a dull thud. Several restless hearts jumped in unison.

“However.”

Elder Su looked at his granddaughter’s small, injured hand, his tone hardening. “You are the ones who breached the contract first.”

“The contract says you would purchase insurance for the participating guests. I checked—Cancan has had no new insurance policies recently.” His eyes were deep and dark, slightly clouded by age but sharp. “Explain yourselves.”

No insurance?

Everyone was stunned. This was indeed an oversight by the production team. If he pursued this clause, the compensation would be fifty million.

Was it them?