Why Does The "Fishing Queen" Always Flirt With Me? - Chapter 21

To avoid any potential embarrassment the next day, Tang Wangyue left the hotel an hour early. She cycled around the studio town, grabbed a quick breakfast, and arrived at the set ahead of schedule.

Escapism was shameful and ultimately useless.

The set was only so big. Even though the production was split into A and B units, they shared the same location and dressing rooms. While she didn’t have to deal with the actors’ logistics as a writer, she still had to face the other two screenwriters to discuss the plot.

Wangyue arrived at the writers’ tent first and opened her laptop to organize her inbox. Since The Eldest Princess started filming, her collaborative requests had skyrocketed.

Yun Chuxian’s star power was no joke. Previously, Wangyue’s scripts had featured solid but less famous actors—mostly third or fourth-tier performers. But after her shows aired, those actors became household names, some even rising to “top-tier traffic” status.

The female leads from her previous scripts were still headlining shows today. It wasn’t just the scripts; everyone knew it was hard for an actress to break through to the top, but once they did, as long as they stayed out of trouble, they were there to stay. Perhaps they just needed that one perfect script to ignite their potential.

Consequently, the price for Wangyue’s scripts had soared, as had the caliber of the leads. The Eldest Princess was a project everyone wanted, but once Yun Chuxian expressed interest, the competition vanished. For an actress with two of the three major Best Actress awards, only the legendary veterans could compete and they weren’t the right age for the role.

With Chuxian on board, the show’s rating jumped from S-level to S+. Jingwei Video had immediately increased their investment.

As Wangyue screened through the emails from various production companies, Lu Zhan walked in with her breakfast. Seeing Wangyue already there, she offered a friendly smile. “Screenwriter Tang, you’re early.”

“Morning, Ms. Lu. I just got here.”

Lu Zhan studied her with curiosity. “Did you leave early last night?”

Wangyue paused, then nodded, using her best friend as a shield. “Director Mo said there were no more scenes for me, so she let me go.”

Lu Zhan looked like she wanted to say more, but right then, Liu Cheng entered. The moment he saw Wangyue, his irritation was palpable. “Screenwriter Tang is quite the busy one. It seems we can only catch a glimpse of you in the morning.”

The sarcasm was thick. Coupled with Lu Zhan’s expression, Wangyue realized that her leaving yesterday afternoon without a formal goodbye had rubbed some people the wrong way.

In reality, there was no hierarchy among the three writers. If there was a superior, it was the Director and as for the B-unit, only Mo Lai had that authority. Wangyue wasn’t interested in office politics. “Yes, I’ve been busy. I’ll be heading to the B-unit now.”

Seeing her act as if she didn’t understand the jab and preparing to leave unbothered, Liu Cheng slammed his hand on the desk.

“You have no discipline! Do you think you can just come and go as you please on this set?” He sneered. “I assume you just graduated and your family pulled strings to get you in. You think because Mo Lai has your back, you can act however you want? Focus on building your resume and stop dreaming of taking a shortcut to the top. Neither Ms. Lu nor I got here without ten years of hard work. A girl your age should learn some dignity instead of trying to trade on your looks.”

Wangyue: “?”

It seemed this wasn’t just about her leaving early yesterday.

While screenwriters often lacked status on set, they weren’t exactly subordinates to be ordered around by colleagues. She reported to Mo Lai and Sun Ran. Liu Cheng and Lu Zhan were seniors, but they weren’t her bosses. As for leaving the set, even though she had been “kidnapped” by Yun Chuxian’s trailer, she had told Mo Lai. Mo Lai returned to the hotel at the same time she did, which meant it was officially after hours.

Liu Cheng’s accusation was pure nonsense. And “trading on her looks”? What looks was she even trading?

Wangyue calmly pulled out her phone and started a recording. “Mr. Liu, say that again. It’ll make excellent evidence when I file for defamation.”

File for defamation? Evidence?

Liu Cheng was stunned. A small argument was going to lead to a lawsuit?

Wangyue waved her phone. “If you have nothing else to say, I’m leaving. Next time, I’ll remember to start the recording sooner.”

Liu Cheng’s face turned purple with suppressed rage. Once she was gone, he turned to Lu Zhan. “What a brat! Suing over every little thing? Does she think she owns the studio? She hasn’t considered how a lawsuit will affect the production’s reputation!”

Lu Zhan took a bite of her breakfast wrap. “The youth are here to ‘restructure’ the workplace, I suppose.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

It meant that someone tried to act like a big shot and complained to the Director, only for the Director to say: “Work is over, the writers are done for the day, let them go home.” Lu Zhan had wanted to warn Wangyue earlier but didn’t want to offend her old colleague. Now, she saw that Wangyue’s “blunt” approach was exactly what was needed to keep Liu Cheng quiet for a while.

Lu Zhan cleared her trash, sounding indifferent. “Mr. Liu, you’re a senior. Don’t let a youngster get under your skin.”

Liu Cheng was like his scripts: full of subjective delusions. This was a “Strong Female Lead” drama, yet he insisted on adding romance, as if a woman couldn’t be independent without a man to lean on. The original novel had no male lead, which was why he and Lu Zhan fought every single day.

Before Wangyue arrived, they were at each other’s throats. The newcomer’s arrival had given them a brief common target. However, Lu Zhan had heard a rumor about why Tang Wangyue was in the writers’ room. If it was true, Wangyue would be their strongest ally in keeping the script faithful to the source.

As for Liu Cheng, he was a sycophant. He had been polite to Wangyue at first when he thought she had a direct line to the Director. Once he realized she was “just” friends with Mo Lai, he tried to assert dominance to drive her out. Furthermore, Zheng Shen had a connection to Liu Cheng, so Zheng Shen’s expulsion had likely triggered a need for revenge.

Lu Zhan considered offering Wangyue a favor, but she realized Wangyue’s current method of handling Liu Cheng was much more effective. Liu Cheng, fuming, stood up. “Fine! I’m going to the Director!”

Lu Zhan ignored him. If he actually had the guts to bother Sun Ran with this, she might actually respect him a little more.

******

Wangyue was also wondering what had triggered Liu Cheng’s sudden hostility. She hadn’t had a conflict with anyone… except for one: Zheng Shen.

She found Mo Lai immediately. “Sis, what’s the connection between Zheng Shen and Liu Cheng?”

“Liu Cheng? Why are you asking?”

Since it was Mo Lai, Wangyue recounted the morning’s events.

Mo Lai thought for a moment. “Liu Cheng’s talent is mediocre. He survives in this circle because his older brother is a Vice President at one of Jingwei Video’s subsidiaries.” She suddenly realized the connection. “Zheng Shen is his brother’s ‘little lover’.”

“A man?”

“Yeah.”

“No wonder.”

Wangyue felt a sense of clarity. She hadn’t done anything to Liu Cheng personally; he was just taking out his brother’s frustration on her.

Mo Lai saw her lost in thought and comforted her. “Don’t worry. Liu Cheng has no real power. No matter how much he fights with Lu Zhan, the script is set. The on-set writers can only make suggestions; the final call belongs to the Director. I’ll handle Liu Cheng for you.”

“Don’t. I can handle it myself.” Wangyue didn’t want Mo Lai to offend people on her behalf. Mo Lai had worked hard for her career and was part of the system; Wangyue was an independent author who could walk away at any time.

“Don’t be polite with me.”

“It’s not about being polite. I have a plan.” Wangyue knew that since Liu Cheng had chosen to retaliate, he wouldn’t stop here. If he was launching an offensive, she had no reason to retreat.

“What plan?”

“Simple. I’m going to ignore him.”

Mo Lai: “…”

“Be serious. If you need me, say the word. Otherwise, I’m calling our moms. My mom might not do it for me, but she’ll definitely step in for you.”

Wangyue nodded. “I know.”

She had a plan, of course. Liu Cheng was a screenwriter—one who was butcherng the original source material. The actors’ fans were fiercely protective of their “projects.” If they found out the script was being mangled, they wouldn’t stay quiet. But for now, a petty verbal spat didn’t require such nuclear options.

The morning passed quickly as Wangyue sat behind the monitors with Mo Lai, offering occasional insights. When lunch rolled around, Mo Lai checked her radio. “Alright, break for lunch!”

She turned to Wangyue. “You’re a picky eater. I’ll go grab you a lead actor’s meal box.”

Actors with some fame had a 50-yuan meal standard, while staff and extras had 20. Mo Lai didn’t care about the price, she just wanted her “sister” to eat well.

Wangyue stopped her. “I’ll eat whatever the staff eats.”

“You writers are staff too, but that 20-yuan box… it’s not much.”

“It’s fine as long as it’s edible.” Wangyue was picky, but she didn’t want to stand out. If it was truly bad, she’d just eat after work.

Mo Lai laughed. “Fine, have it your way.”

Just as they were about to head to the catering line, a staff member walked in. “Director Mo, Screenwriter Tang—Miss Yun would like to see you both.”

“Both of us?”

“Yes, both.”

They exchanged a look. Had the Director already heard about the spat with Liu Cheng?

They found Sun Ran, who was wearing a cheerful expression. “Listen, I have something I want to run by the two of you.”

What could possibly involve both of us? Wangyue wondered.

Mo Lai smiled. “Whatever you need, Director.”

“Now that Zheng Shen has been kicked out, we have an opening for the role of Xia Liang,” Sun Ran explained. “I’ve looked at some audition tapes, but no one fits the requirements.”

Wangyue understood the problem. She had written Xia Liang as a “man with a woman’s face”—a legendary beauty. He eventually sacrifices himself to assassinate an enemy leader to save the Eldest Princess. It was a brief but high-impact role that required a breathtaking look. Zheng Shen had been a compromise forced by investors. Now that he was gone, finding a replacement was difficult.

“Chuxian suggested that since the character is ‘a man with a woman’s face,’ why not just cast a woman?” Sun Ran continued, her eyes landing on Wangyue. “Screenwriter Tang, you’re perfect. You have the height, the posture, and that sharp, heroic beauty. It’s a perfect fit.”

Wangyue: “…”

Mo Lai opened her mouth to speak, but then thought better of it and stayed silent.

Fortunately, Sun Ran only asked her to consider it.

“Yue, what do you think?” Mo Lai asked once they were alone.

Wangyue thought for a moment. “I’m going to go talk to Yun Chuxian.”

“Huh?” Before Mo Lai could stop her, Wangyue was already walking away.

******

At the side of Chuxian’s trailer, Wangyue hesitated. The memory of what she’d seen the night before made her want to retreat. After all, why would a single woman have a box of finger cots in her hotel room? Chuxian didn’t have a partner, and even if she did, she wouldn’t be on a blind date… right?

Wangyue’s heart wanted to believe Chuxian wasn’t that kind of person. She took a deep breath and was about to knock when the door slid open automatically.

“Screenwriter Tang, come in.”

Chuxian’s seductive voice drifted out. Wangyue’s feet moved of their own accord.

Inside, Chuxian’s hair was loose over her shoulders, and her red silk robe was partially undone, hanging loosely as she reclined on the sofa.

“I thought Yue was going to hide from me.” Chuxian’s voice was low and tinged with a hint of grievance, as if accusing Wangyue of being heartless.

Wangyue, thinking she was referring to the “finger cot incident,” felt her ears turn beet red. “I wasn’t.”

“Yue is always running away,” Chuxian whispered, her eyes full of subtext. “My heart has been left dangling by you for so long. A little self-sufficiency… was inevitable.”

Wait—she actually said it out loud?!

Wangyue felt like steam was about to burst from her ears, yet an inexplicable sense of exhilaration bubbled up in her chest.

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