Chapter Twelve: The Faux Heiress of Modern Society — The Decorative Actress (12)
The next morning, a new topic rocketed to the top of trending searches:
“Shocking! In the 21st century, such blatant distortion of truth still exists! The original fourth lead in ‘Tide of Beauty’ resorts to unscrupulous means for fame!”
A blogger named “ExposeItAll” posted this on Weibo:
[The original fourth lead we’ll call A, the current fourth lead is B. A was kept as a mistress by a wealthy tycoon, displacing B, who had already signed on as the fourth lead. After ‘Tide of Beauty’ changed investors, they kicked A out of the production, allowing B to return—it’s just restoring things to their rightful place... A was unhappy after filming for half a month and tried to drag B down, thinking she could leverage the internet to reclaim the role, which is utterly unfair!]
Attached was a series of images: A kissing the tycoon entering and leaving hotels, being caught and beaten by the tycoon’s wife; conversations between Wei Lai and the original investors; and B’s contract stamped with the official seal—dated before filming began.
All sensitive details like eyes and names were carefully obscured, but any discerning viewer could immediately grasp the truth.
The blogger quickly added a comment:
[So the current fourth lead is really the one most wronged here. Everyone, open your eyes and don’t wrong an innocent person!]
Replies flooded in:
“Wow, didn’t expect to see such drama right before the New Year. B really has a good temper, not even cursing A. If it were me, I’d have cursed her ancestors long ago!”
“You’re not alone—I was cursing the current fourth lead just yesterday. I’m heading to her Weibo to apologize right now!”
“As a bystander, don’t you think the current fourth lead is really beautiful? I’m just swooning!”
“@JusticeHero, didn’t you say you’d eat dirt if this was false? Come on!”
“@JusticeHero”
...
Wei Lai was the first to repost the message, captioning it: [I am innocent. Little wife bites her handkerchief.jpg]
The blogger “JusticeHero” hastily deleted their previous post and enabled comment moderation.
Half an hour later, the official Gu Group account also shared Wei Lai’s post, fully turning the tide of public opinion.
Soon after, A was forced by public pressure to release an apology video.
...
After public opinion shifted, Xian Du was respectfully invited back to the cast by Wei Lai.
[But host, I’m curious—how did you figure out Jiang You’an was behind this?]
After returning, Xian Du swapped to a larger bag and was now stuffing it with snacks.
She had been cyberbullied once but was completely cleared of any suspicion of connections or favoritism. The entire crew now regarded her as a victim; many took care of her and fed her snacks every day while she was getting made up.
She even got a special bag just to hold those snacks, but none of this was to be discovered by her manager, Huo Ying.
So far, everything was going smoothly.
“I don’t know,” Xian Du said, never stopping her hands, “but just by looking at Jiang You’an’s expression that night, I knew she’d make a move. So I used that breach-of-contract money to hire a top private investigator to keep tabs on her. Luckily, she couldn’t hold her temper. If this had dragged on for months, I’d have had to sell myself to Huo Ying.”
“The private investigator was efficient too—he exposed the fourth lead’s whole story, paired with my contract and some online propaganda, and public opinion flipped.”
“Money makes the world go round. From another perspective, I was just grinding the gears for your Time-Space Department and got scammed.”
Wang Cai, sensing that Xian Du was subtly hinting at using 10 points to obtain LeYu’s dirt, changed the subject:
“Cough, if Jiang You’an knew that breach-of-contract money was spent on this, she’d be furious... But it’s a shame she wasn’t exposed!”
“Who says she wasn’t?” Xian Du tapped her phone. “I’ve sent the entire case to Bo Yue.”
Originally, Xian Du had deleted Bo Yue, but because of this matter, she re-added him. He quickly accepted and even tried to apologize.
After sending all the evidence, she immediately deleted his contact.
So up until today, even after filming wrapped for ‘Zheng Zheng,’ Jiang You’an hadn’t set foot in the crew again.
“Ding—”
Xian Du put down the snacks and checked her phone; a new WeChat message popped up:
[G: Congratulations on wrapping up.]
Xian Du arched an eyebrow, knowing this meant Gu Qianxi acknowledged her as a collaborator. It seemed the first mission was about to progress soon.
She replied with a simple “Thanks,” turned off her phone, and continued organizing the snacks.
Because of the wrap, many people had brought her even more snacks, so she carefully planned every inch of space in her bag.
“La la la~” Xian Du hummed happily, maximizing the bag’s capacity.
[Host, aren’t you afraid someone might poison you now?]
“I can still sense people’s energy fields. I know immediately if there’s ill will.”
[But you should still be careful. If Huo Ying catches you, you’ll get scolded again.]
“Ah, I know. There’s only a little left now. Almost done.” Xian Du picked up the last packet of snacks, about to put it in, when suddenly a sharp voice froze her mid-move.
“Jiang Xian Du!”
Huo Ying stood at the door of the makeup room, hands on hips, glaring.
The half-packed snacks slipped from Xian Du’s hands onto the table.
Now, it was really over.
...
At the hotpot restaurant.
Because Xian Du wrapped filming today, Huo Ying made an exception and let her have hotpot with Jin Li.
As for the bag of snacks...
Huo Ying confiscated it. She also declared that after the meal, they would do a surprise inspection at Xian Du’s home and seize everything she had hidden.
...
Ah, hopefully Wang Cai, the system cat, is clever enough to hide the snacks well.
Xian Du bit into a piece of marbled beef and nearly cried: It had been so long since she’d tasted something so flavorful.
Even though this was a mission, life was harder than that of an ascetic.
“Seems like Su Jinnian hasn’t made any news these past six months. Has he retired?” Huo Ying put down her chopsticks and showed her phone screen to Xian Du and Jin Li.
“Ah... he’s probably preparing for a movie. Actors of his caliber rarely run out of offers,” Jin Li said stiffly, though Xian Du and Huo Ying didn’t notice.
“True, but,” Huo Ying nudged Xian Du with her elbow, teasingly, “I remember you entered showbiz because of Su Jinnian, right?”
“Ah? Ah, yes!” Xian Du finally reacted. “Emperor Su is my idol. I’ve been busy lately, so I haven’t kept up.”
Five years ago, an abduction left the original owner with severe psychological trauma, erasing memories of the previous seventeen years.
Though Bo Yue helped guide her out of the shadow, it was a movie starring Su Jinnian that truly led her forward.
The film told the story of a gifted boy who, after witnessing the loss of loved ones, developed emotional withdrawal but eventually overcame it.
Su Jinnian earned a Golden Statue Award for his role in “You.”
Though Bo Yue was also in the entertainment industry, it was Su Jinnian who inspired the original owner’s desire to act.
“Ying Jie, does Xian Du have any upcoming roles?” Jin Li changed the subject awkwardly, adding more beef to the pot.
Xian Du sensed Jin Li was acting strange tonight but didn’t think much of it. “Ying Jie got me a rural-themed variety show called ‘Tale of the Peach Blossom Land.’”
“Mm, a lot has happened recently. Though the show isn’t very famous, it’ll help you relax,” Huo Ying was also led off track.
Jin Li, of course, knew well since she was the one who had recommended the show.
...
“Want me to drive you guys?” Jin Li asked from inside the car.
“No need. I’m going to Xian Du’s place later. I’ll drive,” Huo Ying held back Xian Du, who tried to dash into the car.
“Okay, bye,” Jin Li said, then drove to a secluded villa district on the outskirts of City A.
Entering the code, Jin Li opened the door. The villa was pitch black inside, tidy but cold and lifeless.
She went upstairs and opened the door—sure enough, there was Su Jinnian.
The night was as dark as ink; moonlight cascaded over Su Jinnian, draping him in a silver veil. The night breeze stirred the curtains; he sat on the windowsill in thin pajamas, shadowed and indistinct.
“...Cousin.”