Transmigrated as the Scumbag Alpha of a Cold Movie Queen - Chapter 99

Not long after the variety show wrapped up, Sword Breaking the Frosty Night began airing—two episodes dropped on the premiere day, followed by one episode each on Thursdays and Sundays.

That night, Director Zheng didn’t arrange any filming for the main cast, instead telling them to start a livestream watch party with their fans.

The leads had already posted the watch party announcement that morning, and at 8 p.m., they all went live to watch together.

After dinner, Qi Siyu set up the livestream equipment provided by the production team, while Gu Xiaoling busied herself preparing fruit, snacks, and drinks.

Two episodes plus commercials meant nearly two hours of sitting—better to have something to nibble on.

With nothing else to do, Gu Qing picked up a new script. Sword Breaking the Frosty Night was only a third finished, but Qi Siyu had already handed her the next project—a Lunar New Year comedy film from a top-tier director. The box office was practically guaranteed, with a wide audience appeal: men, women, young, old, friends, couples—everyone liked a good comedy.

Qi Siyu’s plan was to raise Gu Qing’s public visibility and industry standing simultaneously. In other words: build fame and win awards.

Two hands on the wheel, both gripping tight.

Once they’d conquered the domestic audience, the next step was to go international—become a global sensation.

In short, Gu Qing’s schedule was packed.

By 7:55, the three of them were ready. Gu Qing opened the livestream, with Qi Siyu and Gu Xiaoling flanking her in the frame.

The TV in front of them was already set to the correct channel, ready for the premiere. Of course, the broadcast itself wouldn’t appear on the livestream—otherwise, why would anyone tune in on TV and boost ratings?

The point was companionship.

The moment the livestream started, fans who had been waiting poured in, and viewer numbers skyrocketed.

Seeing the snacks Gu Xiaoling had prepared, fans flooded the chat with praise, sharing their own watch party setups. Many even bought membership just to post images in the chat.

Soon, the opening theme swelled through living rooms across the country—rousing, grand, and stirring. Some viewers were immersed in the music and visuals, while others chattered in the comments, boasting about how many devices they had running to help boost ratings.

Gu Qing alternated between watching the drama and glancing at the chat, occasionally chiming in to show she was still there.

Viewership never dipped. New viewers who joined midstream quickly got hooked, asking what they’d missed.

By 10 p.m., two episodes had flown by. Amid fans’ reluctant pleas for more, Gu Qing ended the livestream.

Once the feed was shut, Qi Siyu burst out laughing.

“Gu Qing, after you went live, some marketing accounts on Weibo egged on fans of the main cast to compete—predicting whose livestream would get the most viewers. Ai Hanyan’s fans fought the hardest. Some even logged in every family member’s account, but they still couldn’t beat your numbers.”

“She didn’t even come in second—the runner-up was the veteran actress playing the heroine’s mother.”

“Right now, Ai Hanyan’s comment section is full of fans stubbornly denying it.”

“Hilarious.”

Gu Qing stood, pinched Qi Siyu’s chin, and murmured, “I don’t care if their mouths are hard or soft. I only care about yours.”

Forced to tilt her head up, Qi Siyu’s heart pounded. God, Gu Qing was so alpha.

“But I don’t know if mine is hard or soft,” Qi Siyu said shyly. “Guess you’ll have to taste and find out.” She was learning to flirt back.

“Hey, I’m still here!” Gu Xiaoling slapped the table, scandalized.

“Then hurry up and leave—go, go. I’ll handle the rest.” Qi Siyu had honestly forgotten she was there, and now her ears burned as she pushed Gu Xiaoling toward the door.

Gu Xiaoling clicked her tongue but left cheerfully, off to Weibo to discuss Sword Breaking the Frosty Night with fellow fans.

When only the two of them remained, Qi Siyu stole a glance at Gu Qing, then busied herself tidying the table.

Whether it was from moving around or something else entirely, the air felt warmer and warmer, her face growing hotter by the second.

Gu Qing joined in cleaning, while Qi Siyu went to rinse cups—and promptly got pulled back into Gu Qing’s orbit.

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Filming continued smoothly, and as Sword Breaking the Frosty Night aired, word of mouth exploded. Ratings shot to a decisive first place in its timeslot.

Once shooting wrapped, Gu Qing took two days off before joining the set of No Spending New Year’s Eve Alone.

The film had been shooting for a week, but the director had rearranged the schedule to put her scenes toward the end.

Comedy was a challenge for Gu Qing, but she was determined to give her best. Every day she was either filming or dissecting the script and her character’s psychology—even her nighttime “missions” were put on hold.

Both the system and Qi Siyu were starving for attention, waiting for her to finish.

Finally, the film wrapped.

By then, winter had settled in, with a month and a half left until New Year’s.

Stepping out of the airport, the three of them were greeted by drifting snowflakes. The ground was already blanketed in white—stunningly beautiful.

From her bag, Qi Siyu pulled out a scarf she’d knitted and wrapped it around Gu Qing’s neck. “Looks like I finished just in time.”

The stitches were uneven, the top rows full of glaringly irregular gaps—a beginner’s work. But further down, the weave grew neater and more even.

Gu Qing stroked the bottom edge, where “GQ” and a little red heart were embroidered. “It’s cute. Thank you.”

“Hehe, as long as you like it.” Qi Siyu pulled out another—identical except for the initials. “Couple’s set! I made them together.”

Placing the scarves side by side, Qi Siyu looked immensely proud.

Sensing the incoming blast of romance, Gu Xiaoling quietly distanced herself—they were radiating that kind of couple energy.

A few passersby noticed their interaction and snapped photos. One even came over to ask if they could keep them.

“Of course—but could you send us a copy too?” Qi Siyu beamed. This was official recognition of their sweetness!

After sending the pictures, the stranger revealed she was a photography blogger and asked if she could post them online.

Qi Siyu agreed—it’d be a cute Easter egg for CP fans, though she doubted they’d recognize them under hats and masks.

That doubt was misplaced.

When the blogger uploaded the shots alongside snowy street scenes, captioned: If we share snow today, may we share our white hair for life. Saw such a loving couple—so sweet!

An hour later, her phone app lagged so badly she had to restart it.

Tens of thousands of likes and comments poured in—far beyond the few hundred or thousand she usually got.

A glance at the replies told her why: one of the people she’d photographed was an insanely popular top star, part of the most talked-about CP in the fandom, ranked #1 in supertopic rankings. No wonder the post had blown up.

Clutching her phone, she practically cried with joy. Finally, the flood of traffic had found her!
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Back home, the three brought in luggage and two months’ worth of accumulated packages.

They opened them together in the entryway.

“Oh, this is the magazine Gu-jie shot for,” Gu Xiaoling said, pulling out a stack.

“I’ve got… laundry detergent? Oh, it’s from that endorsement we were negotiating. Looks like Meng Changyao sent it.” Qi Siyu checked the label.

“My parents sent dried seafood,” Gu Qing announced.

Opening them blind without checking the labels was almost like opening mystery boxes.

After two rounds each, only one package remained.

Qi Siyu opened it, flushed bright red, and shoved it back into the box. “Ahem, this one’s mine—didn’t expect it to arrive so soon.”

“What is it?” Gu Xiaoling eyed her suspiciously. “Hiding something, Gu-jie—bet it’s not wholesome!”

“Mhm.” Gu Qing didn’t pry. “Let’s just rest.”

If Gu Qing wasn’t asking, Gu Xiaoling couldn’t push either—especially in case it was something… personal.

Once everything was put away, Gu Qing took her suitcase to the bedroom, while Qi Siyu slipped into the side room with her mystery box.

When she came back empty-handed, Gu Qing was unpacking. Inside the large suitcase was a smaller, pink one—with a combination lock.

Curious, Qi Siyu crouched down. “How come I’ve never seen you take this out before?”

“Because there hasn’t been a chance.” Gu Qing’s lips curved faintly as she set the box on the nightstand and headed to shower.

Left alone, Qi Siyu flopped on the bed, absentmindedly spinning the lock. She couldn’t help wondering what was inside—there’d been something strange about Gu Qing’s smile just now.

A little… suggestive.

Click. The lock popped open.

Her pulse leapt to 150. She swore it was an accident—she’d just been fiddling.

Now came the question: look or not?

Of course not—she wasn’t going to sneak around like a thief.

Sitting up straight, she fixed the box with a stern glare.

Gu Qing came out moments later, toweling her hair.

“Curious? Go ahead and open it,” she said with a light laugh.

If she didn’t care, why lock it? Something felt off, but curiosity won.

Inside was a thick stack of A4 papers, each clipped into small bundles.

The top page was densely filled with Chinese characters.

A script?

Qi Siyu picked up the first bundle—and the first sentence turned her face scarlet.

On a quiet afternoon, Little Q and Little G basked in the sun by the floor-to-ceiling window. A breeze lifted the pure white curtains… and Little Q lifted Little G’s pure white dress.

The paper burned in her hands—she dropped it back in the box.

“Wh–why do you have these?” she stammered, not daring to meet Gu Qing’s eyes.

“Maybe it’s because I’m one of the organizers of this fan fiction PK competition?” Gu Qing teased, pinching Qi Siyu’s chin and tilting her head up. “I took first place—so, where’s my prize?”