Cheng Ying finished a tasteless meal, returned to the screening room, and endured another round of mental torture. So much so that when the words “Screening Finished” appeared on the screen, she felt as if she had been reborn.
After the screening, it was time for the main creative team of 《White Robe》 to discuss the filming progress with the senior executives.
Cheng Ying, the director, the screenwriter, and Hua Ran—who for some reason was lingering like a ghost—sat in a private meeting room.
The four of them sat around a round table, looking at each other blankly.
The director nudged the screenwriter, who pretended not to notice. Only Hua Ran was brimming with confidence.
She looked at Cheng Ying with a beaming smile. “I think it’s pretty good, don’t you?”
Cheng Ying took half a second to figure out whether she was being sarcastic or sincere.
The messy plot, the spastic acting, and the female lead who seemed to want to dominate the screen the entire time… The only outcome if this drama aired would be the entire crew’s reputation being ruined for insulting the audience’s intelligence and eyes. If things got worse, it might even drag down the reputation of Cheng’s Media.
She looked into Hua Ran’s eyes. Hua Ran’s gaze was pure—a well-protected kind of purity, the kind that knows nothing of the world’s hardships, nor the difference between beauty and ugliness, good and evil.
Her elders had used their immense fortune to build a utopia for the little princess, a place where everything went according to her wishes, where she was the center of the world, radiating confidence every day. No one dared to say a single bad thing about her.
Such a person could be purely evil as well, because she saw nothing wrong with trampling on those she disliked.
If she disliked someone, the whole world disliked them; that person must be utterly evil.
Cheng Ying suddenly laughed, a hearty laugh.
“Sister-in-law, what are you saying? This show isn’t just ‘pretty good’—it’s simply the best xianxia drama I’ve ever seen! Your acting is superb. I almost cried several times. Next year’s Best Actress award is definitely yours!”
The director stared, dumbfounded, as Cheng Ying showered her with frenzied, over-the-top praise.
One would need either an incredibly low IQ or an incredibly thick skin to do something like this.
Hua Ran was overjoyed. She shot a sideways glance at the screenwriter. “See? I told you the changes were right. Xiao Cheng is the real professional.”
The screenwriter didn’t dare to speak, nor did he want to. He wanted to change his profession.
Cheng Ying pressed on, “Ah, so it was Sister-in-law who had the script changed! No wonder it’s so good. The original script was too draggy, with so many useless subplots. Besides, the audience just likes sweet moments, so cutting them all was perfect!”
By the time Cheng Ying had praised this drama—a show so cringeworthy it would get complaints even if played in a bathroom—from top to bottom, an hour had passed.
Flattered to her heart’s content, Hua Ran floated away. Before leaving, the director gave the smiling Cheng Ying an admiring look.
These rich kids really have no shame when it comes to pleasing the powerful figures in their families.
The shameless Cheng Ying collapsed back into her seat after everyone had left.
If Cheng Mantou had hands, she would have definitely checked Cheng Ying for a fever. “Ying, did watching that make you stupid?”
Cheng Ying picked up the ice water on the table, downed it in one gulp, and gave a cold smile. “Those whom the gods wish to destroy, they first make mad. That girl just hasn’t been beaten down by society yet. Let her climb to the highest point, then one kick will send her down. Once she feels the pain, her bad habits will be cured.”
Cheng Mantou didn’t quite understand but was impressed. She wanted to ask more, but her attention was caught by a scene on the surveillance feed she was inhabiting.
“Hey, the great beauty? Some woman is dragging her! They went into a room, huh?”
Cheng Mantou originally wanted to pull up the surveillance feed for that room directly, but she couldn’t connect.
“The surveillance camera in that room must be broken.” She tried again, then helplessly admitted defeat.
After all, no matter how resourceful she was, she was only a monarch of the internet; in the real world, she couldn’t even change a lightbulb.
Cheng Ying’s half-closed eyelids twitched slightly.
Don’t meddle.
That was the first thought that flashed through her mind.
But it was quickly submerged by a flood of more complicated thoughts.
Who was that person? Why specifically take Jiang Hanguang to a room with no surveillance cameras?
Jiang Hanguang… would she be bullied?
Her current situation might not be any better than Bai Ruo’s or Xu Ning’s back then.
But she hadn’t asked for her help.
Cheng Ying recalled the first time she met Jiang Hanguang. The woman had a high fever, yet her gaze was so tenacious.
But in many matters, persistence alone doesn’t guarantee results.
This dog-eat-dog industry had countless ways to completely destroy a person’s principles and persistence.
Would it be Jiang Hanguang this time?
This proud rose hadn’t perished in the storm, but now she might be trampled into the mud by some unknown person.
Cheng Ying opened her eyes.
“Where is that room?”
Five minutes later, Cheng Ying was standing in the room next door, separated only by a wall.
Miss Jiang, just consider this my thanks for bringing my ring back.
She sighed and took a small, square box from her pocket. The lid popped open, revealing a black card as thin as a cicada’s wing.
She placed the card against the wall and tapped a few keys on her watch. The card began to emit a white glow.
The white light grew stronger until it merged with the white wall.
Then, the scene from the next room appeared within the halo of light spreading from the card.
Jiang Hanguang was sitting face-to-face with another woman. The woman had a somewhat fierce look and an arrogant expression, while Jiang Hanguang’s head was slightly bowed.
The moment Cheng Mantou got a clear look at the woman’s face, she had already pulled up her information.
“Fan Jie, female Alpha, 35 years old, an agent at Cheng’s Media. She manages a few famous artists, but they all have one thing in common: terrible reputations. Things like acting like divas, selling counterfeit goods, getting into physical fights on set to steal scenes, selling their bodies, and so on. The great beauty is her artist now.”
Cheng Ying frowned and looked at the card.
Fan Jie looked impatient. “Have you made up your mind?”
Jiang Hanguang shook her head. “Sister Fan, I…”
“Don’t call me ‘Sister.’ How could I be worthy of that?” Fan Jie’s face instantly darkened, and she rudely cut Jiang Hanguang off. “You’re the big star who almost won Best Actress; you can’t lower yourself one bit. Asking you to sell some products is like asking you to sell your body. Is it really that big of a deal?”
Before Cheng Ying could say anything, Cheng Mantou couldn’t hold back. “Did this woman rinse her mouth with toilet water? Why do her words stink so much?”
Cheng Ying watched Fan Jie expressionlessly. “A common tactic for Z-list agents. First, they crush the artist’s self-esteem, making them a willing puppet. Then they use every means possible to make money, working the artist like a dog.”
No wonder she specifically found a room without surveillance. If this video got out, Cheng’s Media would have to apologize along with this scoundrel.
On the screen, Jiang Hanguang’s lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she closed her mouth.
Fan Jie continued her incessant tirade, “Xiao Jiang, it’s not that I’m picking on you, but you’re not that hotshot rookie actress anymore. You’re a divorced, unwanted, Z-list nobody who had to crawl back to this industry to make a living. Haven’t you seen how the audience is cursing you out? Even if you want to act, who would want to watch? Hua Ran cut your scenes, did you dare to say anything? Wouldn’t it be better to just listen to Sister Fan and earn some easy money?”
Cheng Ying watched as Jiang Hanguang’s once-bright eyes, under Fan Jie’s classic PUA rhetoric, became like a candle flame in the dark, flickering and wavering.
But she still said nothing, only lowering her head even further.
After finishing her tirade, Fan Jie threw out one last line, “Think it over carefully. Give me an answer tomorrow!”
She slammed the door and left.
Jiang Hanguang sat there for a moment, then slowly hunched her straight back.
Cheng Ying could only see her side profile and wasn’t sure if the hint of red at the corner of the woman’s eye was her own imagination.
She subconsciously reached to peel the card off the wall. She shouldn’t continue to spy on the distress and tears Jiang Hanguang was trying so hard to hide.
But, but…
Cheng Ying’s fingertips lifted a corner of the card, and the image distorted.
But she still saw Jiang Hanguang bend over and curl into a small ball, letting out a soft, choked whimper.
Cheng Ying ripped the card off the wall, strode out of the room, and knocked on the door next to her.
She knocked lightly twice, then stood quietly at the door, waiting for the person inside to put her armor back on before facing the world.
In less than three minutes, the door opened.
The rims of Jiang Hanguang’s eyes were a little red, but her voice was already steady again.
She looked at Cheng Ying in surprise. “Boss Cheng, you…”
“Do you want to be my artist?”
Jiang Hanguang stared blankly at the Alpha who was more than half a head taller than her. She understood the words, but she didn’t understand why Cheng Ying was saying them.
She met Cheng Ying’s light blue eyes, which were surging with emotion. The woman, who seemed too tall and too young, had her thin lips pressed together, looking unhappy.
What was Boss Cheng upset about?
