Why Does The "Fishing Queen" Always Flirt With Me? - Chapter 33

Regarding the trending news, Yun Chuxian didn’t bring it up, and Tang Wangyue didn’t ask. Chuxian’s team seemed to have no intention of managing the situation as the rumors continued to ferment.

Wangyue had begun to wonder if the PR team was even working. If they were, how could they let something this big explode without a single response? Just as she was about to cave and ask Bai Yu, a new hashtag surfaced.

#NotYunChuxian’sBoyfriend#

#BoyfriendOrUncle?#

These two topics were quickly linked together. Clicking on either revealed the same explanation: a “unscrupulous paparazzi” had leaked photos of Chuxian with a man in his fifties to damage her reputation. The post argued that someone of Chuxian’s status wouldn’t be dating an “old man” but rather a “young heartthrob”—if she were dating at all. Furthermore, the photos clearly showed her supporting the man with the respect of a junior. Rumor had it, the man was her uncle.

Soon, a third tag rose: #WhoIsYunChuxian’sUncle#

Wangyue zoomed in on the photos. The man possessed a refined, scholarly aura. Even the “human flesh search engines” of the internet couldn’t find his identity. Usually, if netizens can’t find someone, it means the background is incredibly deep—even if he were in business, he wasn’t just any businessman.

Wait… if no one could find him, how did they “know” he was her uncle?

Wangyue realized Chuxian’s team had finally made their move. Trending topics are rarely organic; most are curated by teams behind the scenes. The narrative was now firmly under control. Seeing that Chuxian had handled it, Wangyue finally felt at ease.

*****

Lately, filming had shifted to night shifts to avoid the 40°C heat. The crew slept during the day, meaning Wangyue and Chuxian couldn’t meet as easily without raising eyebrows from hotel staff or other crew members.

Though they were both women and a visit shouldn’t be strange, Wangyue knew the truth: they were in a “kissing” relationship. Every time she thought about it, she couldn’t help but smile.

One afternoon, a doorbell rang, snapping Wangyue out of her writing. She opened it to find a frustrated Mo Lai.

“What are you doing? You’re not answering calls or texts!”

“What happened?” Wangyue asked, confused.

“Director Sun is looking for you. Tomorrow, representatives from Jingwei Video are coming for an inspection. Sun wants you to bring your best scripts so she can introduce you to the right people.”

This was a massive opportunity. Wangyue grabbed her laptop immediately.

Mo Lai led her to the hotel’s conference room, lecturing her the whole way like she was a child. As they entered, a sweet, clear-looking girl approached them. “Director Mo, Screenwriter Tang.”

“This is Director Sun’s daughter, Sun Muyao,” Mo Lai introduced. “She’s a grad student in directing, helping out during her summer break.”

Muyao smiled sweetly at Wangyue, but then pouted playfully. “Senior Tang, surely you haven’t forgotten me already?”

“Huh?” Wangyue searched her memory but drew a blank.

Muyao sighed. “When I was a freshman, you helped me with my luggage. You audited our directing classes, and I audited your writing classes. Later… I even bought a script from you for my school project.”

The school project…

Wangyue’s expression became pained. That was the only script she had ever sold for 100,000 yuan to a “student.” It was a historical mystery. Because so many students needed to fulfill their credits, the production had become bloated with actors and staff. To accommodate everyone, the plot had been stretched and “watered down” until it was unrecognizable.

Tang Wangyue had never admitted that show was based on her work. It was 70% different from her original vision. “Oh… so it was you who bought it, Miss Sun.”

Muyao, seeing the “unspeakable” look on Wangyue’s face, also remembered the terrible reviews that show had received. “I’m so sorry I filmed your work like that.”

Wangyue waved it off. “It’s fine. I didn’t use my real name in the credits anyway.”

Mo Lai whispered to Wangyue, “You’re too direct.”

“It was shot so badly, I don’t even want to talk about it,” Wangyue muttered. She had only sold it to support a junior’s education, and it nearly ruined her reputation.

Actually, Wangyue hadn’t even kept the money; she had donated the 100,000 yuan back to the school’s scholarship fund in the name of the film crew. She had essentially provided the script for free.

******

“Sit down, girls. My mom will be here in a minute,” Muyao said, going to pour water.

A moment later, Sun Ran entered—followed closely by Yun Chuxian.

Wangyue froze. Wasn’t Chuxian supposed to be resting? The moment the actress appeared, the rest of the room faded into a blur. Wangyue couldn’t take her eyes off her.

Chuxian felt the intense gaze. As she walked past Wangyue, her fingertips brushed lightly against Wangyue’s back—a silent, physical warning: Don’t be so obvious.

Mo Lai, standing right there, looked like she’d seen a ghost. Wait, did I just see that? Is Yun Chuxian flirting with Tang Wangyue?!

Wangyue caught Mo Lai’s shocked expression and panicked. She immediately tried to play dumb, blinking innocently. “Sis, you didn’t tell me Chuxian was coming.”

Mo Lai stared at her, her voice low and sharp. “And you didn’t tell me that you and Yun Chuxian were already making eyes at each other!”

Tang Wangyue: “…”

Support