The Whole World Is Waiting for Me and My Ex-Girlfriend to Remarry (Entertainment Industry) - Chapter 16

“I’ll give you my phone. Find it yourself, delete it yourself.”

Well, it goes without saying that from this point on, she and Zhong Qing had to avoid each other—avoiding each other completely, by any means necessary.

Whether out of personal selfishness or professional duty, the best thing for Dong Huaci right now was to not even lift an eyebrow upon seeing Zhong Qing. Dong Huaci’s solo fans tended to treat her like a daughter, indulging and doting on her; regarding Zhong Qing, they felt mostly disdain and indifference. Zhong Qing’s solo fans, however, mostly viewed her as a “dream wife,” and held a natural hostility toward Dong Huaci.

To say Dong Huaci was avoiding Zhong Qing for Zhong Qing’s sake would be too noble. To protect her own image, she needed to keep a low profile to avoid being targeted by Zhong Qing’s fans with “big-character posters” of accusations again. Dong Huaci truly had many things worth accusing. For instance, her performance skills within the group; her promotional scandals with co-stars after becoming an actress; and the fact that back then, Zhong Qing was clearly the one who gave more. Zhong Qing took the hits, Zhong Qing gave the money, and Zhong Qing was the one dumped.

Back then.

The moment Dong Huaci saw this trending topic, she felt zero excitement over the traffic. On that beautiful face, her brows were knitted tight. The director, Liu Miao, was quick on the internet—people in the entertainment industry never let go of their phones. With one swipe of the trending topics, she knew what was on Dong Huaci’s mind. She was quite open-minded about it, though it was unclear if she was joking or serious: “It seems I owe Xuan Xuan a favor. Heaven-sent traffic falling right into the crew’s lap—I must have prayed to the right gods at the right time.”

As the party involved, Dong Huaci nearly forced a smile, relying on her professional poise to follow up: “As long as it doesn’t affect the production.”

Liu Miao beckoned Dong Huaci over, as if calling a cute, favored little pet. This gesture actually made Dong Huaci slightly uncomfortable, but for a female director who valued acting skills and character fit, this condescending comfort toward a “vase” idol-turned-actress felt almost intimate. The slight disrespect was hidden beneath her subsequent words, which felt strangely sincere: “Huaci, you know I don’t pick people solely for traffic, but I won’t reject them because of it either. We all eat from the same bowl; we know that ‘heat’ is a metric we can’t easily discard. It’s a part of your strength. Besides, there’s nothing negative here. Fans shipping, making a fuss, obsessing over CPs—it’s all normal.”

By the director’s chair, Dong Huaci crouched down, still clutching her phone, and blankly agreed.

As if she had already empathized with Dong Huaci’s plight, Liu Miao practically ignored Zhong Qing during her conversation with Dong Huaci after seeing the news. Fortunately, Zhong Qing’s style was that of a cold, high-tension beauty; being alone or ignored in front of others for a long time wouldn’t ruin her image of “beauty” itself. Once Liu Miao finished processing Dong Huaci’s solo shot, she seemed to have no intention of lingering in this sub-unit. She confidently handed over the scenes between Zhong Qing and Dong Huaci to the assistant director. She mainly focused on the male and female leads and clearly didn’t want to get involved in the muddy waters of the rumors surrounding Zhong Qing and Dong Huaci’s past relationship; her actions were beyond reproach. However, her brief visit and her total disregard for Zhong Qing—who was a guest star playing a girl group member—certainly didn’t help Zhong Qing make “friends” or build connections within the crew.

In contrast, the male assistant director became much more polite toward Dong Huaci, as if she had become more than half the female lead in this unit. He spoke a few words to Dong Huaci first, then called out “Teacher Zhong Qing” in Zhong Qing’s direction. Only then did Zhong Qing walk over slowly, holding her script.

A two-person scene required attention to detail. The assistant director stood between them, explaining until he was sweating, his hands and eyebrows flying. But after that trending topic came out, despite the crew’s unofficial non-disclosure agreement and the work done to keep things secret from fans, Zhong Qing and Dong Huaci stood absurdly far apart. Even though they were both listening to the assistant director, Dong Huaci stood on the left, occasionally checking her lines, while Zhong Qing stood two paces further to the right with her arms crossed. Her forehead might as well have had the words “Not Close” written on it in large letters.

At certain points, they would both smile at the assistant director, talk, and ask questions, occasionally nodding at each other with a smile to signal understanding. It was a mystery where they got this tacit understanding, but in public, whenever one spoke, the other absolutely stayed silent. If one asked a question, even if it concerned the other’s scene, the director had to answer first before the other would join in.

This was clearly exaggerated. Even two actors meeting for the first time would be several degrees warmer than them; their coldness and politeness felt too deliberate. However, even though everyone—including Shi Xiaonan—could see it, Dong Huaci, who was right in the middle of it, felt it was just right. After the briefing, she found a gap and asked Shi Xiaonan: “How was it? Is there anything else I need to watch out for regarding my distance from Zhong Qing?”

Shi Xiaonan hesitated: “…It’s fine.”

Dong Huaci: “Sigh, I’m reliable. Don’t worry, I won’t make a fool of myself. I won’t be especially cold to her either—we’re exes, not enemies. We still have professional integrity in the workplace, right?”

Shi Xiaonan: “It feels exactly like when I run into my ex at a class reunion. The real deal, identical. You can’t fake this atmosphere without being exes.”

Dong Huaci shut up. She scratched her head, suddenly realizing she was in a period costume and couldn’t touch her hair. So, she stomped her feet twice in place: “Reality is harder to act out than a play.”

Shi Xiaonan was supportive: “A golden quote, an absolute golden quote. It could be the prompt for a top-scoring college entrance exam essay.”

Dong Huaci bit her lip in annoyance, then turned back with a professional fake smile to get into position as the two-person scene began. Standing in front of Zhong Qing… how to describe that feeling? It was as if they hadn’t eaten breakfast together that morning, hadn’t kissed the night before. It was more like Dong Huaci was a direct relative who had borrowed a million dollars without a receipt; Zhong Qing was afraid she’d run away, yet hoped she’d pay it back, all while being forced to work together to earn money. All these emotions tangled together into a tone of suppressed irritation.

Dong Huaci was amused by her own internal metaphor and couldn’t help but let out a couple of silly laughs.

Zhong Qing, opposite her: …?

An ellipsis practically floated in the air before Zhong Qing’s speechless gaze. She finally showed some expression, looking down at her costume and even taking out a small mirror to check herself, feeling a bit self-conscious.

With that awkward trending topic looming, it was as if luck was compensating them; their scenes together went exceptionally smoothly today. Perhaps because they had successful experience from the rehearsal bloopers, Zhong Qing kept a cold face—and honestly, her real-life emotions matched the scene perfectly. Dong Huaci’s Seventh Princess continued to be exasperated on the road to her political marriage, continuing to threaten and entice General Qian. Since the princess’s suicide monologue had already been filmed, they only needed to fill in the frictions during the journey. Essentially, it was to give the audience the satisfaction of seeing the villain’s death throes and ultimate defeat. Using the seemingly long and redundant final scene between the Seventh Princess and General Qian only served to prolong that satisfaction.

However, neither Zhong Qing nor Dong Huaci likely expected that this scene of less than ten minutes would later be used by “CP fans” after The Phoenix Decree aired. They would edit a “past and present life” video of high quality—lingering and sorrowful—elevating the beauty of both Zhong Qing and Dong Huaci to a new level. But that was for later.

For now, the moment the scene was cut, all intense emotions vanished. Both held stiff expressions and, by unspoken agreement, walked off in opposite directions. Because things went surprisingly smoothly, Zhong Qing’s green-screen scenes were finished. Dong Huaci wouldn’t have any more scenes with her. With the afternoon shoot over, Zhong Qing could check out the next day. Her brief stint as an actress was over; it was time to get busy with her new album.

Tonight, if she wanted to comfort her fans, that alone would keep her busy. It was unclear how Xingtu would handle it, but since the news was originally Zhao Xuanxuan helping Zhong Qing promote her song, and Dong Huaci was just caught in the crossfire, a cold treatment from Dong Huaci’s side would suffice.

But Dong Huaci was still very unhappy.

What was she unhappy about? She thought about it for a long time while eating takeout in her hotel room. Was it because she was inexplicably trending at number one and being scolded by Zhong Qing’s fans? No. Was it because she was forced to avoid Zhong Qing? No. Was it because she had to deal with so many rumors and comments? No.

She picked at her nails, her mind wandering. Once this period drama was over, Dong Huaci suddenly thought, Hey, maybe I should get a manicure.

In the tenth second of staring at her nails, she suddenly realized which thought was making her unhappy: Zhao Xuanxuan helped her promote the new album.

Yes. Zhao Xuanxuan could, but she couldn’t.

Life is so strange.

This bizarre anger caused Dong Huaci to knock on Zhong Qing’s door again before she realized what a stupid thing she was doing. Familiarity breeds ease; this time, the face Zhong Qing showed when she opened the door had more warmth than usual, but she was clearly more surprised. Last time, Dong Huaci had at least sent a warning on WeChat; this time, she arrived with the speed of a debt collector.

Dong Huaci stood at the door, not going in, her momentum not yet fading: “You definitely have her on your contact list.”

Zhong Qing: “Who?”

As she replied with one word, she gestured for Dong Huaci to enter. This time she didn’t pull her; she gave her a “please enter” hand gesture.

Dong Huaci was unreasonable yet confident: “Zhao Xuanxuan.”

Zhong Qing was packing. Her suitcase was half-open on the floor, filled with women’s essentials. The room wasn’t exactly impassable, but it was a bit cluttered. Seeing Zhong Qing in this space and state gave Dong Huaci a sudden thought: Hey, we’re actually quite close, aren’t we?

Zhong Qing continued folding clothes. She hadn’t brought an assistant, nor had she hired one. The ACE of a girl group from a small company was just that pitiful; having a manager was already a feat, and other expenses were cut to the bone—she did everything herself. She frowned: “Her? Maybe. I just don’t scroll through my Moments much, I can’t remember clearly.”

Dong Huaci stood there, carrying an inexplicable resentment: “…So, you still like that type? Even when making friends, it’s just the same thing in a different package?”

“What friends? Which type? Dong Huaci’s type?”

Zhong Qing laughed the moment she heard that. She looked much better when she laughed than when she didn’t, Dong Huaci thought with a stiff expression. What she was doing today was truly moronic. What do you call this? An ex-girlfriend checking in? A heartless old flame pestering her? Zhong Qing, however, stopped folding clothes. She reached into her pocket and pushed her phone directly in front of Dong Huaci.

The moment the front-facing camera caught Dong Huaci’s face, the phone automatically unlocked.

Dong Huaci froze. Zhong Qing admired her expression, then walked a couple of steps away with a smile to continue packing the bottles and jars on her desk, clearly satisfied with her own “cool” sequence of actions: “Find it yourself, delete it yourself. Oh, and before you leave, help me close the door.”