Why Does The "Fishing Queen" Always Flirt With Me? - Chapter 9

Once the photos were over, Tang Wangyue’s eyes instinctively drifted back to Yun Chuxian.

However, the actress’s smile was now distant and professional, as if they were total strangers and the photo session had been nothing more than a routine obligation.

Mo Lai stepped forward with a grin. “Come on, Yue. Let’s go say hello to the Director.” The Director had specifically asked to see Wangyue; they couldn’t exactly make her come looking for them.

“Miss Yun, we’ll head over first. Please, carry on with your work.”

Mo Lai gave a polite nod and reached out to grab Wangyue’s wrist again.

Wangyue felt a heavy, intense gaze burning into her back. She couldn’t help but look over her shoulder, catching the way Yun Chuxian’s eyes were fixed squarely on where Mo Lai was holding her.

A wave of inexplicable guilt washed over her. She subtly pulled her arm back. “It’s so hot out here.”

“Tsk.” Mo Lai rolled her eyes. “You aren’t worried Miss Yun will misunderstand our relationship, are you?”

Wangyue stayed silent, merely following behind her.

“You actually are.” Mo Lai tilted her head. “Listen, Yue—once we’ve made a name for ourselves, when I’m a big director and you’re a top-tier screenwriter, maybe then you’d have a shot. But right now, the status gap is too wide. Even if you got together, it wouldn’t last.”

Working in this “vanity fair,” Mo Lai understood the importance of social standing better than most. She had seen too many couples with mismatched status end in tragedy.

Wangyue’s heart gave a sudden, sharp squeeze. “What are you talking about? I wasn’t thinking anything like that.”

“Fine. Just consider it me worrying for nothing.”

Mo Lai knew her friend well. Wangyue was a “chill” person—indifferent to almost everything. She was the type who could stay cooped up at home for a month straight working on a script without ever stepping outside. If she didn’t run out of food or if her mom and Mo Lai didn’t drag her out, she’d happily remain a hermit.

On the surface, Wangyue seemed perfectly normal—she talked and laughed when expected—但 but at her core, she enjoyed solitude. She was self-contained, her mental world entirely sufficient. Even when she watched girl-group survival shows or followed her favorite band, Jagerwave, she was never obsessive. She liked the music and the spirit behind it, but she wasn’t a “stan.”

It was precisely because of this that seeing the way Wangyue looked at Yun Chuxian made Mo Lai realize something was very wrong.

Wangyue’s expression was a mix of confusion and hesitation. She wondered where on earth Mo Lai got the idea that she was infatuated with Yun Chuxian. She thought she was doing a decent job of keeping it together.

The two arrived in front of the Director, who had just finished speaking with the media.

“Mo Lai, this must be Xiao Tang,” the Director said. Her name was Sun Ran, a woman in her forties.

Female directors were becoming more common in the industry, and Sun Ran was one of the best. Her very first project had been a massive hit, and nearly every work since had at least achieved a respectable level of popularity. Naturally, everyone wanted to work with her.

Sun Ran specialized in period and Xianxia dramas—not the typical “romance-focused” ones, but stories where the leads were obsessed with immortality and cultivation. It had been a shock to audiences used to constant romance. So this is what a ruthless Sect Sister looks like?

Wangyue had watched that drama and felt that Sun Ran was a rare, staunch supporter of the “Strong Female Lead” genre, steadfastly refusing to film anything else.

“Director Sun, it’s an honor to meet you,” Wangyue said with a soft laugh.

Mo Lai raised an eyebrow in surprise. When did this girl learn how to do small talk? Wangyue just disliked communicating; it didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of it.

Sun Ran smiled. “Xiao Tang, your work is excellent. I like it. I hope we can collaborate again in the future.”

“I look forward to that as well, Director.”

“Good. You two go ahead, I have things to attend to.” Sun Ran patted her shoulder and turned to leave.

Mo Lai looked at her in shock. “Did the Director just say she wants to work with you again?”

“Yue, you’ve sold the rights to all your novels. Does she want you to write a custom script? It’s possible. Maybe you should show her some of your unpublished drafts.”

Wangyue’s novels were never hard to sell. Since her first adaptation became a hit, her subsequent works were in high demand. She was currently on a break, so Sun Ran’s mention of “collaboration” likely meant a commissioned project, just as Mo Lai suspected.

Whether it was a commissioned novel or a script remained to be seen. However, Wangyue was seriously considering Mo Lai’s advice. She had submitted scripts before, but they always vanished into a black hole. Production companies likely never even looked at unsolicited “cold” submissions.

The shows that had gained traction in the last few years were rarely original scripts; they were almost all adapted from novels. Unless she submitted under a pseudonym, she stood little chance. Published novels were market-tested; original scripts were a gamble until they were actually produced. For a newcomer without connections, it was a brutal climb.

Wangyue wasn’t exactly “lazy,” she just disliked the social politics involved. But to step out of her front door, she had to play the game.

“Miss Yun, look over here!”

“Miss Yun, this way, please!”

A sudden roar of noise drew Wangyue’s attention. She saw Yun Chuxian surrounded by a crowd, like a moon circled by stars. The “Moon Goddess” shed her light equally on everyone.

Status? Mo Lai’s words echoed in her mind.

It was a cold, realistic truth: those on the lower rungs should never fall for those at the top. The person at the top can walk away at any moment, unscathed, while the one at the bottom is left shattered.

Unless… their status was somewhat equal. Her annual income wouldn’t even cover Yun Chuxian’s spare change.

Wangyue’s expression grew complex. She murmured, “You’re right. I really do need to work harder.”

“What am I right about?” Mo Lai asked, confused.

“Submitting my work.”

“Exactly! I’ve been telling you—writing a script and not submitting it is the same as not writing it at all.”

Wangyue just smiled. Some scripts were for practice, not necessarily for production.

“Submitting to Director Sun?”

“Not yet.” Wangyue gave her a bright smile. “Actually, I’m thinking of investing in a project myself.”

Over the years, she had built up some savings. She could find a script that didn’t require a massive budget and test the waters. She was still young, and the young should have a bit of ambition.

Mo Lai blinked. It had been a long time since she had seen this kind of competitive fire in her friend—the last time was when Wangyue decided to apply for the drama academy.

“Fine. I’ll be your director then.”

Mo Lai glanced at Yun Chuxian in the distance. Was this sudden burst of motivation coming from her?

Yun Chuxian happened to look over right then. Her eyes met Mo Lai’s, and she gave a small tilt of her chin and a polite smile, her gaze “incidentally” sweeping over Wangyue.

Those two are standing too close together, Chuxian thought.

She leaned over and whispered something to her assistant. A moment later, Bai Yu approached the pair.

“Director Mo, Miss Yun has something she’d like to discuss with you.”

Mo Lai blinked. “Me?” She wasn’t in charge of logistics; if Yun Chuxian needed something, she could just talk to the Chief Director. What use was an AD?

Wangyue was also confused as she watched Yun Chuxian walk over. The actress completely ignored her, acting as if they hadn’t spent the night together. She spoke only to Mo Lai. “Director Mo, a word.”

Without waiting for an answer, Yun Chuxian turned and walked away.

Mo Lai couldn’t really refuse. She called out to Le Qing, “Le Qing, take Screenwriter Tang to the hotel for me.”

“Sure thing, Director Mo.”

Mo Lai gave Wangyue a quick look before hurrying to catch up with Yun Chuxian.

Wangyue watched Yun Chuxian’s elegant, cool back, wondering if all that tenderness she’d felt before was just a hallucination.

Up ahead, Yun Chuxian suddenly stopped. Seeing that Wangyue had already followed Le Qing away, a distant, professional smile appeared on her face. “There’s one thing I’d like to trouble you with, Director Mo. A vehicle will be arriving tomorrow; I’d appreciate it if you could handle the arrangements.”

That’s it? Mo Lai was floored. A superstar personally summoned her for something this trivial? She had been bracing for a major issue, already planning how to delay and consult with the Chief Director.

She forced a smile. “Of course. I’ll see to it personally.”

Beside her, Yun Chuxian’s eyes remained fixed on Wangyue’s silhouette until she disappeared around the corner.

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