The day after Cheng Ying kicked Xu Ning out, Blueprint publicly announced its Intelligent Brain development plan at a press conference, with an estimated official launch next year.
This unbelievably fast development speed caused a huge uproar in society. Blueprint’s stock shot up like a mad dog off its leash, and talk of it replacing Cheng’s position became rampant.
Wails of despair echoed through Cheng’s R&D department. With a grim expression, Cheng Liang called his father, Cheng Bai.
“Dad, we have no choice but to use Chaos.”
There had been speculation that during her quiet years before her death, Cheng Mo might have been researching this kind of supercomputer, but she died before she could finish it.
Only a few people knew that in the lowest-level basement of the main Cheng’s Energy building, an Intelligent Brain named Chaos was still quietly sleeping.
And only Cheng Ying knew that this Intelligent Brain was never an invention meant to benefit humanity from the very beginning.
To counter it, she had created an Intelligent Brain of an equivalent class: Cheng Mantou.
Of course, it wasn’t that she wanted to be some kind of hero; she simply wanted to oppose Cheng Mo.
Cheng Ying hated Cheng Mo, hated her so much that she often regretted letting her die so easily.
That said, when Miss Xu Ning, reeking of arousal, tried to burrow into her arms, Cheng Ying had been genuinely angry—so angry that she felt some of Cheng Mo’s ideas weren’t without merit.
Destroy it all. Quickly. I’m tired.
At eight in the morning, Cheng Ying was lying in bed, unable to sleep and too lazy to get up.
She ignored the tangled mess of a world she had deliberately stirred up, wanting only to escape reality for a while.
“What a disgrace to the family, Ying. You were almost forced by your own artist? Humans truly are creatures of desire.” Cheng Mantou, seizing the rare opportunity, wasted no time in kicking her while she was down.
Cheng Ying turned slightly to her side, revealing a fair face mostly hidden by messy black hair. She gave a gentle, refined smile. “That’s still better than you lot, who have the will but not the means—not even the right tool.”
“…I’m still a child. Have you no shame?” The seven-year-old Cheng Mantou was genuinely puzzled every day as to why her creator was such a morally bankrupt individual.
Was this the so-called inverse relationship between character and intelligence?
Cheng Ying paid her no mind. As a pitiful victim who had been deceived twice in a row, she resolved to become a heartless, cute-acting machine from now on and never get involved with those Omegas again.
Besides, it probably wouldn’t be long before she had to go fight Chaos to the death.
It was a universal truth that one should seek out less aggravation.
Pure, innocent little white flowers? All lies. Pull up the covers, close your eyes, and love no one.
Cheng Ying rolled over, deciding to stay in bed for another day.
The phone rang. “Hang up,” she said, unmoved.
Cheng Mantou, whose ears had just been polluted by her crude talk, thought, In your dreams, and answered it directly.
The voice of Kong You, President of Cheng’s Media, came through the communicator. “Boss Cheng, where have you been having fun lately?”
A rare guest, she thought. While mentally composing a program to automatically spank Cheng Mantou, Cheng Ying casually asked, “Just messing around, here and there. What can I do for you, President Kong?”
“It’s nothing major,” Kong You said with a laugh. “I was just wondering if you could attend a film review meeting in my place. The production team is very close to you, right in Yunjing City.”
The so-called film review meeting was a standard procedure for dramas invested in by Cheng’s Media. Nowadays, shows didn’t need to be fully filmed before airing; they were basically filmed and post-produced simultaneously. A broadcast could begin once about a third of the final product was ready, which made it convenient to cancel unprofitable shows or extend successful ones.
Before the official broadcast, Cheng’s Media would gather the main crew members and its own upper management to review the filmed portions for a final check.
The executive participating in the review was considered a semi-producer for the film, receiving both a bonus and performance credit.
Cheng Ying thought, How strange. That penny-pincher Kong You, whose ultimate goal in life was to make money, was actually giving such a sweet deal to someone else.
When something seems too good to be true, it usually is. Cheng Ying asked lazily, “Which production team is it?”
Well, let there be a trick. There was no one in this world who could truly get the better of her.
“《White Robe》, the one filming at Central Film and Television City. You were just there a few days ago, so you must remember it.” Kong You’s voice was so polite it bordered on fawning.
He really didn’t need to be so polite to Cheng Ying. For a standard orphan of the previous regime like her, not being directly eliminated was already a stroke of luck so great her ancestral graves must be smoking. What need was there for respect or dignity?
White Robe. Cheng Ying recalled that chaotic morning a few days ago.
Jiang Hanguang’s pale, beautiful face abruptly surfaced in her mind.
Cheng Ying didn’t really want to see her again.
Her instincts told her that this woman, who didn’t even get angry after having water thrown on her countless times, was an extremely dangerous person.
To her.
She had been Xu Ning’s agent for over a year and had never been so hot-headed.
She feigned difficulty. “I’m afraid that won’t work. I’m not in the city right now, and flights are scarce here. It would probably take me several days to get back.”
She had expected him to back down in the face of difficulty, but this time, the usually agreeable Mr. Kong was dead set on forcing her to work.
“About how many days will it take for you to return? I’ll have them coordinate. We can wait as long as it takes!”
I’ll just move to Mars today and never come back.
Cheng Ying rolled her eyes, suppressed the inexplicable irritation in her heart, and peacefully surrendered.
Although she really wanted to hack Kong You’s account and make him lose a few million to vent her frustration, according to the persona of the hedonistic Cheng Ying, agreeing to avoid trouble was the logical course of action.
She casually named a date a few days later, made the arrangement with Kong You, hung up, and flopped back onto the bed to play dead.
Cheng Mantou was very excited. “We get to see that great beauty again!”
Her use of the ‘er’ suffix was perfect, which made her sound even more like a little hooligan.
Ever since seeing Jiang Hanguang that day, Cheng Mantou had given her that nickname. Cheng Ying really didn’t want to know where this terminally online girl had learned such a roguish tone.
Cheng Ying buried her head in the soft quilt, her voice muffled. “If you want to see her, can’t you just possess a surveillance camera? What’s there to be excited about?”
“Don’t even mention it.” Cheng Mantou got angry just thinking about it.
“Does that Hua Ran have some kind of mental illness? She finds fault with every take. The great beauty has such a slender frame, yet she was kept hanging in a harness for a whole morning. Is she even trying to let people live?!”
“And that Lang Wenxing, calling him useless is an insult to useless people! He’s all chummy, calling her ‘sister, sister’ all day, but he’s no help at all!”
“Let’s not talk about it, let’s not talk about it. If I watch a few more times, I’ll get so angry my data will get corrupted. Hey, why are you hiding your head?”
After Cheng Mantou’s tirade, Cheng Ying had shrunk completely under the covers, leaving only a few tufts of messy hair visible.
“I’m sleeping. Go surf the web and don’t bother me.”
The film review meeting for 《White Robe》 was scheduled to be held at Cheng’s Media headquarters at 10 a.m. on May 30th. This was at Cheng Ying’s request; any earlier and she wouldn’t be able to get up.
Even so, the derelict Boss Cheng still stepped into the screening room at 9:59:59, greeted by the gazes of everyone present.
With the wealthy and powerful Cheng’s Energy as its backer, Cheng’s Media was naturally luxurious in all aspects. The predominantly white screening room could easily accommodate several hundred people, but today, only a few dozen had come. As a result, everyone got a spacious table and a massage sofa you never wanted to get out of.
Cheng Ying walked to the seat with her nameplate and sat down. The sofa’s soft nodes pressed against her spine, making her already boneless posture even more contorted.
Damn it, I’m surrounded.
Cheng Ying plucked a plump little grape from the fruit platter on the table and glanced around, the realization dawning on her slowly.
The seating arrangement for the review meeting was quite particular, ordered by main creators, main actors, supporting actors, and minor supporting actors.
Her position, as the nominal overseer, was placed between the director and the lead actors, convenient for the director and screenwriter to explain their filming concepts and for her to communicate with the leads.
How thoughtful. They’re practically trying to kill me.
Cheng Ying turned to give Princess Hua a polite smile, then greeted Prince Lang with equal courtesy, immediately hearing a dissatisfied little huff from Hua Ran beside her.
Cheng Ying pretended not to hear. As long as those two didn’t start fighting and smash a table in her face on the spot, she couldn’t care less where they went to die.
But with that one sideways glance, she had involuntarily spotted Jiang Hanguang, who was sitting two rows behind.
Miss Jiang Hanguang was wearing a crisp, stand-collar white shirt today, her hair in a simple ponytail. Spotless and sitting perfectly upright, with the top button unromantically fastened, she looked a bit like one of those aloof, unapproachable senior girls from one’s school days.
The woman’s face was whiter than her shirt. She was expressionlessly flipping through the script in her hands, making notes, as if she had a golden plaque above her head that read, “Study hard and make progress every day.”
Cheng Ying only took one look, but Jiang Hanguang’s face began to float endlessly in her mind until she could see every single strand of her hair.
It couldn’t be helped. Who could blame her when Miss Jiang Hanguang’s beauty was radiant, the kind that automatically filtered out all distractions?
It seemed that, on the surface at least, the inhuman treatment Cheng Mantou had described hadn’t crushed her.
Cheng Ying let out a soft sigh of relief and turned her gaze to the big screen.
Soon enough, however, she understood why Kong You had gone to the trouble of calling her to review this in his stead.
《White Robe》: an investment of hundreds of millions, Cheng’s Media’s flagship production for the autumn of 2100, a historical xianxia romance drama, eagerly awaited by tens of millions of book fans, with a grand world-building, popular leads, veteran supporting actors, and stunning special effects. Please look forward to it.
And this is the pile of crap you came up with?
If this thing aired, her year-end bonus as the supervising executive would definitely go up in smoke.
Cheng Ying watched, utterly shocked, at the fragmented story and the leads’ mutually repulsed performances, momentarily frozen.
Her spirit was fragile lately; she couldn’t bear this kind of grievance.
Cheng Mantou’s incessant commentary filled Cheng Ying’s ears.
“Love at first sight? Hua Ran looks like she’s grinding her teeth, about to bite Lang Wenxing’s neck off in the next second!”
“Lang Wenxing is an Alpha in the drama, right? He’s holding an Omega—a female one at that—and he’s shaking like that? Is he impotent?”
“Ying, does this mental abuse count as a work-related injury?”
Before her were the dejected backs of the director and screenwriter, who didn’t dare to turn around.
A third of the series wasn’t long. With the beginning and end trimmed in post-production, it took about five hours to get through. Midway, the group went to the Cheng’s Media cafeteria for a working lunch.
The Cheng’s Media cafeteria was just as luxurious as everything else. The gleaming floor tiles and golden dome made it look like a high-end hotel restaurant. However, since it was lunchtime, seating was not sparse, so everyone dispersed to find food.
The director avoided Cheng Ying as if she were a ghost, seemingly terrified she would ask him how an experienced director could let those two idiots run wild.
Meanwhile, Cheng Ying, with a wandering gaze, ordered a red wine-braised pork knuckle, found a corner to sit in, and personally dismembered the glossy, fragrant piece of meat.
As if it weren’t a pork knuckle, but Hua Ran’s face.
“Boss Cheng?” A gentle, calm, and perfectly articulated voice beside her held a hint of hesitation.
Cheng Ying froze and looked up.
She saw Jiang Hanguang standing by her table. Dressed in a white shirt and white trousers, her posture was ramrod straight. The woman had a graceful figure and excellent bearing; even with a downturned face, she was a complete pleasure to look at.
It was just that her expression was a bit… was it suppressed amusement or something hard to describe?
Cheng Ying, who was suffering an undeserved disaster, was not in a good mood, but she still forced herself to squeeze out a roguish smile. “Are you looking for me, miss?”
Jiang Hanguang gently placed a silver ring on a corner of her table.
“Is this yours?”
Cheng Ying glanced at it. It looked familiar, but she couldn’t remember when she had lost it. She usually wore small accessories by the dozen, so losing one wasn’t really noticeable.
“It should be. Thank you.”
“I found it in the infirmary that day. You’re welcome.” Jiang Hanguang gave her a slight nod, turned to leave, then paused. Cheng Ying sneered inwardly.
Is she getting to the main point now?
But Jiang Hanguang merely pointed to her own fair, soft cheek and, as if cherishing her words like gold, said, “Here. Wipe it.”
Then she turned and left without a backward glance, leaving Cheng Ying stunned in her spot.
Her cheek really did look soft.
Cheng Ying distractedly took out her phone and found a small splash of grease from the pork knuckle on her own cheek.
“Ying, your heartbeat is all over the place. Stunned by her beauty?” Cheng Mantou chimed in, seizing the opportunity.
But Cheng Ying didn’t feel like bickering with her.
She was indeed somewhat flustered. Until the second before Jiang Hanguang spoke, she had felt that victory was in her grasp, feeling smug and self-satisfied.
But at this moment, she was completely baffled.
She had thought Jiang Hanguang was going to ask for her help.
The reason 《White Robe》 had become so terrible was largely due to plot cuts. For certain well-known reasons, the scenes of various supporting characters, especially those connected to the Omega female lead, had been drastically reduced.
The hardest hit of all was Jiang Hanguang’s character, Mo Yan.
Mo Yan was an important antagonist in 《White Robe》. She came from a poor family whose members only saw her as an immortal who had joined a cultivation sect. They would make exorbitant demands at every turn, and if refused, they would show up and cause a scene. Mo Yan, who was originally quite talented, gradually became the laughingstock of the entire sect. She grew more and more silent, lonely, and resentful of the female lead, Baiyi, who had everything.
Mo Yan’s secret machinations were key to Baiyi’s growth, and the revenge against her was one of the book’s satisfying high points.
But now, Mo Yan’s scenes had been cut down to just a few insignificant profile shots.
The scenes Jiang Hanguang had filmed for a whole day while hanging in a harness, scenes she’d gotten a high fever for after having water thrown on her, had been cut completely.
After being treated so unfairly, it would have been understandable for her to seek help, even from a hedonist with a bad reputation like herself.
After all, even someone like Xu Ning had come to her in tears, begging to be saved, after she had extended an olive branch.
Cheng Ying always assumed the worst of people. When Jiang Hanguang approached her, she was already sneering inwardly, waiting for a tearful accusation.
But Jiang Hanguang said nothing. The woman was calm and composed, as if she had grown accustomed to the tricks of fate.
She wasn’t trying to fight for anything, nor did she want to hurt anyone.
Cheng Ying, on the other hand, was somewhat at a loss.
She remembered Jiang Hanguang’s script, its edges frayed from use, and her tired, pale face. Her heart, which hadn’t been truly moved in a long time, felt as if it had been gently plucked, falling and then rising again.
Suddenly, the pork knuckle on her plate lost all its fragrance. It was just greasy and nauseating.
