Transmigrated as the CEO's Top-Tier Stand-in - Chapter 24.2

Chapter 24.2

After all, they were the mentors guiding the trainees forward.

Night seemed to feel the same, but he quickly found an entry point, turning to ask the production staff about the trainees’ diet.

The cameraman behind him honestly mentioned the two salad meals the cafeteria had arranged for them today. Night frowned upon hearing this and directly contacted the director team:

“Some trainees don’t need to lose weight. Shouldn’t there be more choices for the meals?”

Night advocated for a scientific and reasonable diet, expressing his dislike for starvation in pursuit of an ideal body image. He suggested that trainees should set their own weight goals (loss, gain, or muscle building) and that the catering should be diverse and characteristic, allowing for self-discipline without being overly harsh, especially since many in the industry suffer from chronic gastrointestinal issues.

It was because of this communication between Night and Wang Luoshui.

That when the trainees, famished after a morning of effort, headed to the cafeteria, having initially given up hope on the food, they suddenly smelled the aroma of meat from a distance. They all sped up their steps like unbridled horses.

“My heavens? Is this production team heaven?”

“Shock! Braised pork! The production team is too evil! Do they want me to get fat?”

The girls looked excitedly at the rows of service windows until the first person was stopped by a staff member holding a scale. The staff member placed the scale on the ground and smiled gently:

“Before eating, step on the scale and fill out a form.”

The girl: “…”

The smile gradually disappeared.jpg

The girls behind, hearing the commotion, craned their necks to look. Upon seeing the scale on the floor, many changed color and instinctively retreated, abandoning their frantic pace and becoming very polite:

“Sister, you first, please.”

“No, no, I suddenly don’t feel that hungry. You go first.”

“Little brother! Will the weight segment be broadcast later? Will you keep it confidential for us?”

Amidst the hustle and bustle, Ji Yu, in the long queue, craned her neck and saw a large pot of chicken soup being cooked in one of the windows. The faint aroma wafted over, making her look longingly.

Then, she gasped to the System:

“Is this production team…”

“Trying to fatten us up like pigs?”

Chicken soup!

Such a nourishing food like chicken soup appearing on an idol trainee’s table—wouldn’t one bowl per meal make them gain ten jin?

But she really wanted to drink it!

Seeing such a rich meal after exercise always made her feel better.

One day of routine recording for Dream Chasing 100 passed just like that.

Meng Rendong stayed at Imperial Entertainment until six in the evening, having finished all her day’s work. When her new assistant asked, she waved away all business entertaining and headed toward the elevator with a sense of impatience.

In the underground parking lot, Uncle Zhang was waiting for her beside a Mercedes.

Meng Rendong quickly approached: “To Yanxia Mountain.”

Uncle Zhang looked surprised but then thought that since Chu Nanxing was also there, given Ms. Meng’s relationship with Miss Chu, this concern was normal.

He nodded, walked over, and opened the car door for Meng Rendong.

Meng Rendong got into the car, her thoughts flying ahead to the Dream Chasing 100 recording building. She couldn’t help but wonder:

How was Ji Yu’s day?

Did she secretly practice dancing on that balcony after I left?

She still didn’t know that her newly discovered treasure had already begun to shine brightly in front of the camera. Even after just one day apart, the thought of Ji Yu brought a sense of urgency.

It felt like merely watching her from a distance was satisfying enough.

And with this humble satisfaction and small happiness, she drove straight to the hotel building and entered Wang Luoshui’s director’s room.

“Luoshui.”

When she spoke, Wang Luoshui was adjusting camera positions. Because the trainees had explored many “secret bases” outside the studios today, and many people went to those places, the follow-up cameramen were exhausted from running back and forth. She was contemplating whether she could allocate a few spare cameras for those areas.

Hearing the voice, Wang Luoshui’s heart sank, but she quickly turned to face her, asking with a smile:

“Why are you here? Have you had dinner?”

Meng Rendong unusually joked: “Don’t you have some here? You don’t mind if I freeload a portion, do you?”

Wang Luoshui looked at her expression. Knowing who she had come for, she couldn’t help but feel sad for her friend. Thinking back to Meng Rendong’s immense grief after the breakup with Ji Yu, what would happen if Meng Rendong learned that Ji Yu didn’t actually love her that deeply?

Just thinking about it made Wang Luoshui shiver.

Meng Rendong, seeing her strange expression, frowned, a little confused: “If not, I’ll go to the hotel kitchen and order a meal now.”

Wang Luoshui regained her composure, shook her head, and smiled: “No need. We improved our food today. As long as you don’t order expensive delicacies like abalone and Australian lobster, I can still afford to feed you.”

Meng Rendong nodded, sat down next to her, and her gaze went to the screen. Although the screen in front of her was focused on Chu Nanxing and her friend in A-class, Meng Rendong seemed not to notice, calmly moving her gaze to find the next scene.

Seeing this, Wang Luoshui instinctively started talking about things in the show, trying to divert her attention.

Meng Rendong felt her friend was unusually enthusiastic today. She was momentarily puzzled but, thinking of Wang Luoshui’s dedication to the show, assumed she wanted to report to her as an investor to boost her confidence. She subconsciously asked:

“Is there… an issue with the funding?”

Wang Luoshui stammered, stopping the topic: “… No.”

Meng Rendong then nodded calmly: “Just handle the show matters as you see fit. Didn’t the agreement say I only handle investment and sending people, and you handle the specific operations?”

Wang Luoshui then smiled and changed tack: “Fine, then let’s have dinner first. It’s dinner time anyway.”

She gave the order, and the assistant promptly brought the staff meal. It had various dishes, clearly more plentiful than before despite being in boxed meal packaging. But Meng Rendong paid no attention, instead watching the part of the screen that was filming the cafeteria.

She saw Ji Yu.

She even tried to see what was on Ji Yu’s plate.

A few seconds later, seeing the green vegetables, tofu, and lemon duck on Ji Yu’s plate, she inwardly sneered:

Sure enough.

Ji Yu truly didn’t like sweets. She didn’t even have a bowl of the sweet pear soup that everyone else on the surrounding tables had.

At that moment, Wang Luoshui suddenly looked up and asked her: “I have braised pork in my bowl, and I haven’t touched it. I’m on a diet recently, do you want to eat it?”

Meng Rendong suppressed her disappointment, shook her head, glanced at her, and casually said: “I have enough here.”

They were both wealthy people; she wouldn’t reach her chopsticks into her friend’s bowl for two mouthfuls of food.

Wang Luoshui could only sigh inwardly.

After dinner, Meng Rendong watched Ji Yu walk towards the studio with the person beside her. Next to her was a silver-haired girl who looked sharp and capable, her arm draped over Ji Yu’s shoulder. The two were laughing and chatting, and other girls occasionally greeted them.

Seeing the way Ji Yu smiled at that girl, Meng Rendong silently clenched her hands, then released them.

She sat there silently, watching Ji Yu and Ling Lan separate. After Ji Yu returned to F-class, she didn’t dance even once, but instead seriously taught the girls around her, correcting their movements, demonstrating for them, and showing them how to keep to the rhythm…

All the girls in the class greeted Ji Yu with smiles.

They clearly treated her as their core.

Ji Yu was also poised and natural, completely unlike the quiet, almost transparent feeling she gave off when she was by Meng Rendong’s side.

Every frame on the screen—

Was a side of Ji Yu Meng Rendong had never seen.

Her smile, her dancing, her movements, including the way her hair flew up.

Meng Rendong suddenly felt a pang of bitterness in her heart.

A sour taste pressed on her tongue.

For some reason, she now found every girl approaching Ji Yu on the screen repulsive, clingy, and annoying. After maintaining this feeling for a long time, she suddenly realized:

She was jealous.

Jealous of these people who could be so close to Ji Yu, who could stand beside the vibrant Ji Yu.

Only she could not.

For a moment, Meng Rendong wished she could pierce the screen, walk into that studio, push away everyone who was close, and then confine Ji Yu to her own space, where only she could smell Ji Yu’s faint fragrance, touch her, and kiss her.

She could offer the same compliments those people gave; she could have the same worshipping gaze.

“Screech.”

The sound of a chair being abruptly pushed back, scraping against the floor.

Wang Luoshui yawned, realizing it was past midnight without noticing. She turned to look at Meng Rendong, who had suddenly stood up, and asked confusedly: “Are you going back to rest?”

Meng Rendong turned around and softly responded: “Mm.”

Wang Luoshui nodded, but as Meng Rendong reached the door, she suddenly thought of something, stood up and followed her out. In the corridor just outside the door, when no staff members were around, she quickly called out:

“Rendong.”

Meng Rendong stopped and tilted her head slightly.

Wang Luoshui seemed to know what she was about to do: “You promised me you would let go, didn’t you?”

She stared intently at the back of Meng Rendong’s head, as if she wouldn’t let her leave without a guarantee.

A hint of helplessness appeared between Meng Rendong’s eyebrows. She avoided the topic, slyly changing her approach:

“Don’t worry, Director Wang, I won’t harass the trainees on your show.”

She just wanted to watch.

She absolutely wouldn’t go near.

Because Meng Rendong realized that just watching Ji Yu through the screen was no longer enough; her heart had grown greedy again.

Wang Luoshui was also shrewd and immediately understood her underlying meaning. Her cheeks tightened, and she looked helpless for a moment. Thinking of the interview, she whispered:

“Rendong, failure to cut the losses leads to chaos.”

Meng Rendong lowered her gaze, standing there. After a long time, she gave a bitter smile:

“I know.”

She repeated it, as if speaking to herself: “I know everything.”

She stood there, as if rooted to the ground—unable to move forward for fear of losing control, yet unwilling to retreat. After standing in a dilemma for a long time in the silence, Meng Rendong suddenly spoke again, her back to Wang Luoshui, a hint of self-mockery in her eyes:

“Do you know, Luoshui?”

“I once told her not to be so clingy.”

“But it wasn’t until today that I realized—”

“The clingy one was me, the one who couldn’t let go was also me, and the one who couldn’t live without the other was still me.”

Meng Rendong raised her hand to shield her face, not wanting her friend to see her dejection. With her back partially turned to Wang Luoshui, after a long pause, she softly asked:

“Do I look… particularly awful like this?”

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