The Movie Queen And Her Rival Just Went Public! - Chapter 72

Chapter 72

The show FOR U hadn’t launched yet. Far from generating revenue, it was currently in a “money-burning” phase.

If Su Cancan were to file a lawsuit for her injuries and the lack of insurance coverage, the production team wouldn’t just lose their potential profits—they’d be waiting to pay out damages before packing their bags and heading home to till the soil.

“Old Master, please see if there’s any other viable solution. We’ve been preparing this project for a long time; over a hundred people have been busy with this for half a year. If Cancan withdraws, the show is truly over. Please, think about it—is there a win-win solution? We will do our absolute best to implement it.”

While the management’s heads were filled with the stench of money, the producer was genuinely considering the project’s survival.

He had to answer to over a hundred employees and millions of viewers. Since the production team was in the wrong first, he had to fight for himself and everyone else.

“Exactly.” Another person chimed in, breaking into a cold sweat. “You might not understand our industry; returns on initial investments are never a certainty. To be honest, we’ve staked our entire livelihoods on gambling for a good result. We’ve poured our hearts into this show. We are deeply sorry about Cancan’s injury. Just name your price; whatever your needs are, we’ll work to fulfill them.”

Heh. Between the lines, they were just afraid of her asking for money.

What small-minded, pathetic ambition.

“Rest assured, we don’t think much of fifty million.”

Grandfather Su spoke the truth. He had gone into business early in the reform era, and the capital he’d accumulated had surpassed that amount twenty years ago. The couple had an only son who had taken over the family business, and over the years, the fortune had multiplied several times. In Ning City, the family was considered a significant player.

Therefore, fifty million was not a life-threatening figure to them.

Su Cancan licked her dry lips, a drop of sweat metaphorically falling in her heart.

If the two elders knew she had “bent her waist” for the sake of twenty million…

It was better they didn’t know.

“Our main reason for coming today is to understand the full process of how Cancan was injured, and…”

The Old Master paused, his gaze sweeping over the group.

He had dealt with too many “monsters and demons” in his time. He had seen so many old, calculating foxes that with just one glance, he could discern the thoughts of the people before him.

The one who had come in with his granddaughter had low authority; he was likely the one doing the actual work. The rest were shifty-eyed opportunists—nothing more than so-called “leaders.”

He distributed the pressure equally, letting them stew in a heart-wrenching, unbearable tension before finally speaking slowly.

“And, several interesting rumors I’ve seen on the internet recently have troubled us old couple for a long time. This time, we want to verify their truth together.”

Interesting rumors?

Su Cancan’s brows suddenly furrowed.

Ever since her debut, her grandfather had become addicted to “surfing the web.” He spent all year lurking in her Super Topic, comment sections, and various social platforms. As for the so-called “rumors,” she feared it was some fake “melon” (gossip) he’d picked up.

Su Cancan looked toward Liu Yimin; both shook their heads, unable to guess what kind of question the Old Master would ask.

“The rumors are secondary.” The Old Master patted Su Cancan’s knee, which was covered by loose casual pants. “Let’s find the cause of Cancan’s injury first.”

The producer thought for a few seconds before answering in a very sincere tone: “It’s like this: game projects on the beach carry a certain risk of injury. We cleared obstacles more than once before recording. It is indeed something that’s difficult to avoid entirely.”

The Old Master sneered in rebuttal: “Can I interpret your answer as: it wasn’t caused by the environment, but by human factors?”

“This…”

In ancient times, a sword could seal a throat; today, a single sentence could silence a room.

The Old Master’s words left everyone present speechless.

Su Cancan could feel the producer’s helplessness, but since her grandfather had come to back her up, she couldn’t possibly undermine him.

The oldest man among the management spoke up slowly: “Old gentleman, you can’t just say things like that. Without actual evidence, these are all groundless speculations.”

They hadn’t researched the old man’s background or net worth beforehand. He could claim to be rich or wealthier than a nation, but what proof did these empty words hold?

Whether it was bravado or nonsense, they would just let it slide. Taking it too seriously would only demoralize them, which wouldn’t help the negotiation.

Moreover, the person currently above them was the one who had actually provided the funding.

“Evidence? Groundless speculation?”

Grandfather Su’s voice dropped very low, and the atmospheric pressure in the room plummeted with it.

A drop of cold sweat rolled down the man’s temple as he braced himself: “Yes, one must provide evidence when speaking. Cancan’s injury is something we didn’t want to see. We have the intention to settle and compensate, so you shouldn’t make things difficult for us like this.”

Grandfather Su met this with silence. The air in the conference room seemed to slow its flow, creating a creeping sense of suffocation.

“Young man, are you saying that us two old folks are being unreasonable?”

Grandmother was small in stature and had a soft voice. Her question, asked in a gentle tone, made it seem as though they were the ones being bullied by the group. A perfect example of overcoming hardness with softness.

“No.”

Just as the man was about to argue back, there were a few knocks at the door.

The Old Master let out a single, angry grunt from his nose and said to the person outside: “Come in.”

There’s more?

Every one of the Old Master’s moves was unexpected. The person outside didn’t keep them in suspense and pulled open the wooden door to enter.

Liu Yimin whispered to Su Cancan, asking if she knew who it was. Su Cancan shook her head until a young man in a suit appeared in her line of sight. She blurted out, “Brother Jiahui?”

The man called Jiahui saw her, lifted the folder in his hand, and smiled back at her. Then, under everyone’s gaze, he handed the folder to the management man and stood behind the Old Master.

“What is this?”

The man looked at the folder in confusion—a blue, opaque cover containing a thick stack of papers.

His heart skipped a beat, and he suddenly had an ominous feeling.

Jiahui stood with his hands behind his back. “What is it? You’ll know once you look.”

Jiahui was the son of Su Cancan’s second cousin and was close to her in age. Since his parents were busy with work, he had been sent to the old couple as a child. The two of them had grown up together under the elders’ eyes. Unfortunately, his family had moved abroad during their first year of high school, and they had naturally lost touch.

Today was the first time Su Cancan had seen Jiahui in over a decade. The childhood friend was both familiar and strange; if his looks hadn’t been eighty percent similar to her memory, she wouldn’t have dared call out his name.

“Why are you here?” While the man was flipping through the documents, Su Cancan whispered to Jiahui.

“Ahem,” Jiahui coughed into his fist and whispered back, “Business first. We’ll catch up properly after this is over.”

“Okay.”

Su Cancan gave a sweet smile, her charming expression overlapping with the little girl from back then.

The conference room was quiet, save for the heavy breathing of several people and the sound of pages turning.

The pace of the page-turning had a rhythm: slow at first, likely reading word for word, then speeding up to almost one page every two seconds. Even at that speed, it took some time to reach the last page of the thick document.

The man closed the folder, his face turning pale at a visible speed.

“Is there anything else you’d like to say?” Jiahui looked down at him, the man’s balding head shining with oil.

“Oh, I forgot to introduce myself.” Jiahui took a card from his case and handed it over. “This is my business card. I am the legal representative for Mr. Su.”

The man took it with trembling hands.

The rectangular card had a misty blue background with silver printed text. The design was minimalist, with only three lines: his name, contact info, and title.

His full name was Xie Jiahui.

His firm was Ning City Suyang Group.

People in the film and television industry mostly operated in Beijing and Shanghai. In recent years, many film bases had been established in Hangzhou, so they traveled there more frequently.

They rarely went to Ning City and knew very little about it—likewise, they had no knowledge of a company called Suyang.

While the man was dazed, Xie Jiahui kindly added: “Our company also has business in Shanghai. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of it.”

He paused for a few seconds: “Brilliant Sunshine Real Estate.”

Brilliant Sunshine?

The man’s mind automatically searched for info on this company, but in all his memories, he could only find one match: the company ranked in the top ten of Shanghai’s real estate industry. If he remembered correctly, the developer of his own house in Shanghai was Brilliant Sunshine.

He stared at Su Cancan and the Old Master, dumbfounded.

A rare look of bashfulness appeared on Su Cancan’s face.

Liu Yimin was in disbelief: “Brilliant Sunshine belongs to your family?”

Su Cancan’s eyes darted around as she leaned into her ear and mumbled a “yes.”

Liu Yimin sucked in a breath of cold air. Su Cancan had never seriously talked about her family’s industries, only saying they had some accumulated capital. She had visited Ning City many times over the years and had only seen the retired old couple. Coupled with the fact that Cancan had swallowed her pride when bullied by seniors early in her career, Yimin guessed she was rich, but she didn’t realize she was this rich.

Little rich girl, if you’d said your family background was this solid earlier, why would I have needed to bow and scrape like a servant in front of Qian Weiyi?

Xie Jiahui slowed his speech again: “Never heard of Brilliant Sunshine? No matter. Have you heard of Beijing’s Xinlang Steel?”

Heard of it? Of course.

Xinlang Steel was a steel company established a few years ago. Despite the collective suppression by established firms and such fierce competition, it had broken through like a bamboo shoot to quickly join the industry’s front ranks, completing its IPO just three years after its founding.

The man swallowed, his lips devoid of any color.

“Don’t panic,” Xie Jiahui chuckled and continued, “Xinlang Steel isn’t entirely our company.”

The swollen balloon let out a puff of air, becoming slightly less tense.

“However, we are the second-largest shareholder.”

Upon hearing this, the balloon simply exploded. The man collapsed back against the sofa.

Aside from Liu Yimin, who was trying her best to control herself, the one with the most exaggerated expression was the supervisor.

His eyes were wide and round, and his mouth was open in a perfect “O,” looking like someone who had never seen the world.

“Telling you this was not my intention, nor was it my client’s. You’ve seen the materials we prepared, so let’s discuss the issues in those materials one by one.”

Su Cancan could sense Xie Jiahui’s pride when he listed the companies. Now that it was time for business, he switched instantly—his tone became icy, and his eyes projected a sharp light.

The man braced himself to sit up straight, his attitude becoming much more respectful.

“Please, go ahead. I will tell you everything I know.”

Su Cancan curled her lip at their sudden change; it was quite boring. In this day and age, in this industry, talent was no longer the primary requirement—family background and power dominated everything.

She sighed again. It wasn’t just her industry; wasn’t every other industry the same? Without connections, it was impossible to move an inch in today’s society.

“Grandma, it’s a bit stuffy. Can I go out for some air?”

Su Cancan’s hand was being held by her grandmother. She squeezed back slightly to get her attention.

Hearing her granddaughter say she was uncomfortable, the old lady almost called a halt to the negotiations. At Su Cancan’s persuasion, she let her go.

The night coast was boundless. Ink-black darkness filled every corner of her vision. The wind rose, the tide surged, and the waves whistled past.

Su Cancan’s fear of the unknown reached its peak. She walked quickly to the room she shared with Shen Luoyan on the same floor and swiped her key card to enter.

The room was dark. Is Shen Luoyan not here?

“Teacher Shen?”

She inserted the room card into the slot, and the whole room was instantly lit. Once her eyes adjusted, Su Cancan realized she was alone. she called out tentatively.

No response. Shen Luoyan really wasn’t there.

She couldn’t quite explain it, but a feeling resembling disappointment welled up in her heart.

Su Cancan dragged her feet to her own room. Since her “rear” was damaged, she laid herself flat on the bed, burying her plain face in the pillow.

Her phone lay to the side. It buzzed twice, and she grabbed it at top speed, propping up her upper body to check.

What? We’ve only been apart for two minutes and Liu Yimin is already messaging me?

Liu Yimin: My eldest lady, your old servant previously offended you—please be magnanimous and don’t hold it against me~

What a weird way to address her. It gave her goosebumps. Su Cancan frowned.

Su Cancan: Speak normally, OK?

The text “the other party is typing…” appeared at the top of the screen.

Facing the glowing screen, Su Cancan’s pupils suddenly dilated, and her eyes lost focus.

After a few seconds, the phone vibrated in her palm. She snapped back and looked closely.

Liu Yimin: You’re joking. I really didn’t expect you could hide it so well. You didn’t give me any hint about something this big. If you’d said so earlier, I would have gone straight to flip Qian Weiyi’s table and made him act like our grandson.

Su Cancan: You know now. Can you go flip the table?

Liu Yimin: Of course! Princess, I will carry out the mission. Any other orders? Give them all to me at once. Oh, no—whenever you want to give an order, I’ll complete it immediately!

Su Cancan gave a helpless smile.

Su Cancan: Stop being cheeky. One more word and you’re the first one fired.

Liu Yimin was still typing, but Su Cancan wasn’t in the mood to wait and exited the chat.

Her contact list was full. She scrolled up and down—mostly colleagues she knew from various work events. Seeing the hot search about her injury, they had sent messages of concern, to which she gave official replies.

None of them were the person she cared about or wanted to find.

Su Cancan’s gaze moved downward, her finger brushing the screen.

The Big White Dog (Shen Luoyan’s avatar) ran up from the bottom. Her eyes lit up.

Su Cancan: You’re not in the room?

She was just a little curious about Shen Luoyan’s whereabouts; she definitely wasn’t “checking in.”

She knew Shen Luoyan might not be able to reply immediately, but she couldn’t help but wait with some anticipation.

Shen Luoyan: You’re back in the room? I’m downstairs handling some business. It might be a while before I come up. Is there anything you need me to bring you?

Gurgle, gurgle. Why was there a sound of bubbles popping?

Su Cancan sat up on the bed. Her butt touching the mattress made her hiss slightly, but her fingers didn’t stop.

Su Cancan: No, I just came out for some air. I’m heading back soon. I probably won’t sleep in the room tonight; I’m going to stay with my grandma. Make sure you lock the door since you’ll be alone.

Shen Luoyan: Okay.

In the hotel lobby, in front of the reception desk, a fully disguised Shen Luoyan held her phone and softly said “goodnight” to the screen.

“Miss Shen, we have upgraded your room type. If you have any other needs, please feel free to contact us.”