Jiang Hanguang tried a few different angles, doing her best to make the half-eaten fish look less of a tragic sight before posting it on Flying Pigeon.
She struggled for a moment over what caption to add, then followed the professional’s advice and casually added a sentence.
“Eat well.”
The second after the Flying Pigeon post went live, the number of comments and likes began to soar at a frightening rate.
The delirious ones: “Wifey, wifey, look at me!”
The ones crying with emotion: “Teacher Jiang, you acted so well, sobs, thank you for giving Mo Yan a second life.”
The jokers: “Are you the legendary fastest-rising top star?”
The troublemakers: “Her acting was just so-so, only made to look good by the main leads. She used to have much more spirit. If she hadn’t married that rich second-generation heir for money, only to be used and abandoned, she wouldn’t have fallen to this state.”
The righteous defenders: “To the person above, you’d better show some evidence when you’re being a bitch. Aren’t you afraid of spraining your tongue from all the hot air?”
And the ones who formed a fan club overnight: “Welcome everyone to the ‘Liuguang’ family, let’s all love Jiang Hanguang together!”
At midnight, the lights were still on in the not-so-spacious second bedroom of the old-fashioned apartment. The bed, yet to be graced by its owner’s presence, was so smooth it looked as if it had never been slept in.
Above the old, wood-colored desk hung a large cloth pouch with many small pockets, each containing a cute toy doll. Compared to these beautiful dolls, the items on the desk were pitifully few: just a glass vase with a fake flower, a small pen holder, a thick script, and an e-reader.
Jiang Hanguang sat upright at the desk, scrolling through her phone. She was actually very sleepy. Back at the Feng residence, she had a very regular schedule. If she wasn’t disturbed by Feng Nan and the people he brought home, she would usually be asleep before ten. The biological clock she had developed over ten years, after being briefly disrupted by life on set, had quickly returned to normal after a short break.
But at this moment, she felt unusually excited. Watching the endlessly scrolling comments, her heart was filled with all sorts of related emotions.
Happy when seeing good comments, sad when seeing bad ones. These light, floating emotions skimmed the surface, unable to touch her soul, yet continuously prodding at her sensitive nerves.
She longed for recognition; this was something Jiang Hanguang had understood since she starred in 《South Wind》.
At that time, she had attended a promotional event with the film crew. A group of fans had caught up with her, and one of them, a little girl with a round face, had thrust a large bouquet of flowers into her hands and said with a beaming smile, “I love your portrayal of Nanfeng the most! Keep up the great work in the future!”
“The most,” what a precious description. So precious that only when spoken from the lips of a youth, bright as the morning sun, did it not sound false or deliberate.
To this day, Jiang Hanguang could no longer recall the girl’s face, but she still remembered her expectant gaze.
Unfortunately, things later didn’t go as hoped, and in the end, she had disappointed them.
She wondered where that child was now, and whether she had come to like someone worthy of her affection.
The more sincere that love was, the more fragile it was.
Jiang Hanguang knew this better than anyone, but when she received it, she still felt a place in her heart that had been empty for a long time become somewhat filled, albeit falsely.
She craved this feeling of fullness, like someone with an extreme sweet tooth who had never received candy. Even if it was just water with a hint of sweetness, she would rather drown in it.
And she didn’t dare to crave more.
The comments were still scrolling. Jiang Hanguang’s eyes felt a little dry. She rubbed them gently, only to see a comment specially marked as “From someone you follow.”
Cheng Ying: “Rest well, good night.”
The moment she saw this sentence, Jiang Hanguang could almost instantly picture Cheng Ying’s expression.
That same smile with a hint of mischief, “I know you’re lurking. Go get some rest.”
Her face flushed for no reason, as if she’d been caught red-handed doing something bad. She decisively turned off her phone, washed up, and went to sleep.
Her powerful biological clock eagerly kicked in the moment she lay down on the bed, and Jiang Hanguang fell into a deep sleep.
But tonight, many people were destined to have a sleepless night.
In the magnificent Hua family villa, Hua Ran had already smashed her phone and an entire set of master-crafted tea ware. The servants stood by, trembling, daring neither to step forward to stop her nor to leave.
They were terrified that this little princess, who had never suffered a setback in her life, would jump off a building and kill herself at the slightest disagreement.
By now, Hua Ran was tired of smashing things. She sat on the sofa, panting, her beautiful face contorted with rage.
Were those audience members blind? How dare they curse her for being crazy?
Why did Cheng Ying release those scrapped clips? She really is having an affair with Jiang Hanguang!
And Jiang Hanguang, Jiang Hanguang! Hua Ran ground the name to dust between her teeth.
She automatically imagined Jiang Hanguang’s smug expression, and her anger flared up again in an instant. She grabbed a throw pillow from the sofa and hurled it fiercely to the ground.
It must be Jiang Hanguang who holds a grudge against her and whispered poison in Cheng Ying’s ear to harm her like this!
She would never let her get away with it, never!
She yelled at a nearby servant, “Go get me a new phone!”
Xu Ning was curled up in bed, repeatedly refreshing Cheng Ying’s Flying Pigeon post. Most of the comments below were praising Jiang Hanguang, with occasional questions from her own fans asking why Cheng Ying wasn’t posting about her anymore.
Her once clear, bright eyes were now bloodshot. With her hair disheveled, she sat at the head of the bed like a female ghost whose soul had been stolen, just staring blankly at Cheng Ying’s profile picture.
The small, old tin robot was so familiar yet so strange. It had forwarded her news countless times, but now, it had nothing to do with her at all.
Its owner was so gentle, yet so ruthless. Not long after discarding her, she had already started cultivating a new flower.
Jiang Hanguang… Xu Ning watched “Difficult to Walk in the World” once. She was truly beautiful, more beautiful than herself and Bai Ruo combined.
Xu Ning bit her broken lip, tears streaming down her cheeks.
But she was still unwilling to accept it.
Cheng Ying wasn’t asleep either. She already had terrible sleep quality and was a chronic night owl, not to mention she was currently dealing with a barrage of calls from Cheng’s Media’s upper management.
In the screening room, discussions about 《White Robe》 kept refreshing on the large, solitary, bright screen. Cheng Ying could almost imagine Cheng Mantou happily tumbling through the massive data stream, like a bear dropped into a honey pot.
She had grown tired of sitting cross-legged. Now, she had one foot on the chair, using her knee to support the hand holding the phone, while her other leg dangled below. She vigorously rubbed her temples while listening to the person on the other end of the line ramble on.
Kong You said with some difficulty, “Boss Cheng, this 《White Robe》 was poorly filmed. You could have just held it back for a reshoot. Using the company’s flop as a stepping stone for your own artist is a bit unscrupulous, isn’t it?”
If you’re so capable, why don’t you go and hold it back yourself?
Cheng Ying scorned him in her heart. In truth, the upper management of Cheng’s Media, or at least Kong You, knew that the collapse of 《White Robe》 was inevitable. No drama could make a comeback against the odds with a lead actress like Hua Ran.
After all, other people were at most a gale, but Miss Hua was an out-and-out hurricane combined with a sandstorm.
In the end, to curry favor with Cheng Liang, who was backing Hua Ran, the financial loss was just accepted as a loss.
But the problem was, who would take responsibility for this matter?
Hua Ran would certainly bear the brunt of it, but Cheng’s Media would also inevitably be criticized. At the very least, they would be found guilty of lax film review and polluting the public’s eyes.
But with Hua Ran involved, they didn’t dare not promote it vigorously.
At a time like this, it was necessary to push forward an insignificant scapegoat.
This scapegoat had to have a bad reputation, preferably one who could take all the blame and save the company from its dire straits.
She, with her notorious reputation, was chosen by Kong You as this lucky person.
From the moment she saw the final cut, Cheng Ying knew Kong You’s intentions.
If it weren’t for Jiang Hanguang, she wouldn’t have minded being the sucker. That would have fit her public persona better.
But now that she had signed Jiang Hanguang, she had to make use of this situation.
What’s more, Hua Ran had bullied Jiang Hanguang for so long.
How could she not be made to pay some compensation?
There was a hint of mockery in Cheng Ying’s eyes, but her tone betrayed none of it. “President Kong, what are you saying? It’s as if I did it on purpose. How would I have the guts? If my brother found out, wouldn’t he skin me alive? I genuinely thought the film was well-made. The only reason I posted that edit today was because my artist was pestering me, just to ride the wave of popularity. Who knew things would turn out like this?”
Her words were logical and well-founded. Whether Kong You believed her or not, he couldn’t find any fault with them.
Kong You knew there was no point in arguing with her further. He could only pretend to be magnanimous. “Forget it, forget it. At least Miss Jiang has made a complete comeback this time. The company has gained another good artist, so it wasn’t a total loss of face.”
Cheng Ying immediately pressed her advantage. “Our Hanguang only has popularity right now, but no solid work. That’s not a long-term solution. If there are any good scripts recently, could President Kong help keep an eye out?”
“Yes, yes, of course. Don’t worry, Boss Cheng.”
Kong You probably had a pile of cleanup work to deal with and didn’t want to waste any more words with her. He readily agreed and hung up the phone.
Cheng Ying hadn’t actually placed any real hope in him. In just this short time, probably three or four sharp advertisers had already contacted her, but she had rejected them all.
Although the current situation looked excellent, it was far from time to relax.
Jiang Hanguang’s current popularity was built only on the huge failure of 《White Robe》 and that short little clip. Her fan base hadn’t changed much.
If she didn’t seize the opportunity to produce some solid work, the passersby who had a good impression of her would scatter in the blink of an eye.
At that point, the vengeful fans of Hua Ran and Lang Wenxing would be enough to give her a headache.
Cheng Ying frowned, scribbling on her writing tablet.
Filming a drama takes too long, and short films don’t have much value…
From the current perspective, a live-broadcast variety show is the best choice.
Cheng Ying pulled up a list of upcoming live variety shows from the film and television administration’s intranet. She gave it a quick scan; the variety of genres was quite complete.
She picked out a few with reliable production teams and wrote a rough summary herself, planning to ask Jiang Hanguang out tomorrow to discuss them.
Speaking of which, it seemed it was also time to discuss the matter of her public persona with Hanguang.
Cheng Ying had never approved of forcing a persona. In her view, an illiterate person pretending to be an intellectual was being a hypocrite, and it would backfire sooner or later when the truth came out.
But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t use the rules of the industry to amplify certain traits an artist already possessed for her own benefit.
Cheng Ying thought about the Jiang Hanguang from the phone call just now—the one who, despite encountering such a wonderful turn of events, was still incredibly cautious, even needing to confirm with her before posting on Flying Pigeon. A smile touched the corners of her lips, and she casually jotted down a few lines on her writing tablet.
A sense of distance.
An abundance of beauty.
An abundance of sweetness.
And a touch of softness.
Do you like this kind of sister?
