Chapter 18.1
Xiang Qingwei's original intention for calling Xiao Dong was to arrange for him to go over and "take care" of Ning Yang for half a month.
But now, with Ling Jiayi's situation, it wasn't possible to remove Xiao Dong. Thus, she could only temporarily assign Xiao Wu to the role instead.
She had called Miss K last night to change their appointment to the afternoon. Miss K had complained a little over the phone before agreeing.
For breakfast, Ling Jiayi had his favorite small wontons, not in the hotel, but in the makeup room of the set.
Ling Jiayi's costume and hairstyle for his ancient character were very detailed, requiring two hours every day for application and dressing.
He sat there, holding a piping hot bowl of small wontons that Xiao Mei had just packed for him, but seemed to have no appetite, taking only a few bites as his gaze drifted toward Xiang Qingwei, who was standing by the door of the makeup room speaking with Director Gou.
Xiang Qingwei was discussing Ling Jiayi's upcoming schedule with the director and the production manager.
Even though he was currently filming, there were unavoidable commercial activities that he needed to attend to, which meant that adjustments needed to be made to his schedule with the Crew.
Xiang Qingwei firmly believed that if one wished to establish themselves within this industry without being easily replaced, their only option was to improve their professional abilities.
An overnight sensation was never anything miraculous in this industry. Every year, new faces emerged, and the cheers and screams of today's fans would be tomorrow's applause for someone else.
The only thing impossible to replace was the work an artist left behind.
In this industry, there was no shortage of one-hit wonders. Yet, without exception, all artists who stood at the top of the pyramid, who ascended to the apex, had trodden upon the roles they had portrayed, the works they had completed, and the awards they had won.
Tao Yuner had once lost an award, and now she wanted it back.
Ling Jiayi and Ning Yang both possessed their own beliefs within their respective fields.
When selecting artists, Xiang Qingwei had her own set of criteria.
She also had her own beliefs.
She refused to treat her artists as commodities to be quickly exploited for short-term profit; instead, she wanted to unearth new value from them, continuously pushing them toward the apex of this pyramid, toward divinity.
They would become gods.
And she would create gods.
Therefore, no matter what, Ling Jiayi was an actor, and acting was his top priority. During Ling Jiayi's time on set, Xiang Qingwei prioritized his acting commitments over all else, pushing away all commercial activities.
Thus, since arriving on set, Ling Jiayi had only requested half a day off yesterday due to a high fever.
Ling Jiayi had shot to fame only the year before, and this year was when his commercial value was rapidly rising.
According to the usual trends of the entertainment industry, this was the perfect time for celebrities to make hay while the sun shone, to take advantage of their popularity to maximize exposure and profit.
This meant appearing on all sorts of variety shows and interviews, since nobody knew how long this burst of fame could last.
Yet despite being a virtually overnight sensation, Ling Jiayi had managed to remain focused and dedicated to his craft, staying tucked away on set to diligently film. This was not an easy feat.
Thus, when Xiang Qingwei spoke with Director Gou and the producer about changes to Ling Jiayi's future schedule, both parties were exceptionally cooperative.
However, Xiang Qingwei's careful handling of Ling Jiayi did not earn her any sympathy from his fans.
On Weibo, Ling Jiayi's fans had taken to checking in daily with the hashtag #IsXiangQingweiDeadYet. Searching for Xiang Qingwei's name on Weibo revealed that eighty percent of the posts were from Ling Jiayi's fans roasting her. "Trash," "useless," "unprofessional."
In their eyes, Ling Jiayi's ability to rise to fame was her own doing, but after Ling Jiayi exploded onto the scene, Xiang Qingwei had pushed away multiple projects rumored to be big hits and instead chosen a project with a director unknown to the industry, along with a female lead from the B-list.
She had also declined numerous commercial activities. With such high heat, aside from appearing on a handful of variety shows to promote the drama during its airing period, she hadn't accepted any other projects.
If that wasn't rubbish, what was?
Some dedicated fans even dug up Xiang Qingwei's schedule to prove she hadn't been by Ling Jiayi's side since early in the year.
Thus, the fans swiftly concluded that Xiang Qingwei and Ling Jiayi must have a poor relationship, and that Xiang Qingwei had then purposefully suppressed her talent.
Anybody who read the insults directed at Xiang Qingwei would have been left frowning.
The woman didn't have social media, but every now and then, her colleagues would tell her, either jokingly or maliciously, that she had been insulted by Ling Jiayi's fans again. Out of curiosity, she once used Ling Jiayi's phone to search for herself and found the volume of vulgar abuse and hateful language astonishing.
One particular "fan" listed her seven major "sins," none of them cursing but all seemingly logical and well-reasoned; Xiang Qingwei found it quite an interesting read.
If the accusations hadn't been directed at her, she might have even believed them. No wonder the post had been shared over seven thousand times.
After reading through the list, she accidentally hit the "like" button.
Even though she was discovered within five minutes and immediately retracted her like, it was still screenshotted and spread across the internet. All the accounts in the entertainment industry had shared it.
This was the nail in the coffin for Xiang Qingwei's reputation.
Ling Jiayi's face turned blue with anger.
He couldn't even claim that Xiang Qingwei liked the post by accident, because how could he explain that she had seen the tweet in the first place? If she hadn't searched for it, she wouldn't have seen it.
When the company began to assign blame, Ling Jiayi jumped out and claimed that he had accidentally liked it, taking the heat for Xiang Qingwei, but privately, he sternly warned her that she was forbidden from searching for her own name on Weibo ever again—not even on her own phone!
Xiang Qingwei was quite displeased. Even if Ling Jiayi hadn't said anything, she wouldn't have searched for herself again; it was a blatant insult to her dignity.
What did those fans know?
For example, they said she refused to find variety shows for Ling Jiayi, but it was obvious that their "gege" Ling Jiayi simply didn't want to participate.
The small wave ended with an official statement claiming that an assistant of Ling Jiayi's had accidentally liked the post.
Afterward, to compensate Xiao Dong for taking the blame for her, Xiang Qingwei gave him a raise. After receiving the raise, Xiao Dong expressed that he would accept more work of a similar nature involving black pots—within reason, of course.
Xiang Qingwei was deeply opposed to this new economy built on fan worship.
Last year, a certain celebrity had caused quite a stir when his fans "revolted," leading to the dismissal of his manager. It was practically unheard of! The fans were oblivious to the fact that the very drama that propelled their idol to stardom was something his manager had fought tooth and nail to secure for him.
Now, barely two years since his debut, the newly minted star had burned his bridges behind him and asked the company to remove his manager.
This incident had a detrimental effect on the industry, setting a terrible example. Fans began to follow suit, each claiming they were doing what was best for their "master," and demanded that their respective agencies replace their managers.
Sometimes, Xiang Qingwei ate with her colleagues, and everyone would pour out their bitterness at these experiences, lamenting how the industry was becoming increasingly difficult to navigate.
Artists were harder to manage, and fans rebelled at every opportunity. Regardless of who you were, if you searched your name on Weibo, the results would be rife with insults: XX is dead, XX is trash, XX is a waste of space, et cetera, et cetera. The comments were both predictably formulaic and uniquely creative.
One manager had even been driven into depression by the relentless onslaught of fan criticism.
Xiang Qingwei advised her colleague not to search her name on the internet.
"I just can't help it, honestly. I really admire you—you don't even have an account, so they can't @ you. And you're strong enough to resist looking at these things, but I can't."
The manager, who had already been diagnosed with mild depression by a doctor, downed another glass of bitter wine. "It's true—I've been insulted to the point where I'm beginning to doubt myself, feeling like I really am worthless."
Xiang Qingwei calmly suggested, "Why don't you toss your phone and go on a vacation for a bit? Once you return, delete these apps, and have your assistant monitor and report the online discussions. Remember, you're an artist's manager; you only need to focus on your artists."
She tried to weather it out for a while but ultimately followed Xiang Qingwei's advice, deleting her Weibo account and taking a trip abroad. Upon her return, she felt much better.
Xiang Qingwei never cared about the fans' verbal abuse and doubts directed toward her.
The average fan knew very little about the inner workings of this industry; their support was blind, and their only principle was that their idol was always right. Any opinions or stances built upon this single, biased principle were doomed to lose their objectivity.
Besides, aside from those with personal grudges, which manager would not want to secure better resources and more lucrative endorsements for their artists? However, reality dictated otherwise, forcing people to bow down to it.
Yet there were always fans with delusions of grandeur, believing their idol was the reigning star with so many projects and endorsements to choose from. The competition for resources in this industry was much fiercer than these fans could imagine.
While Xiang Qingwei did have Xiao Wu keep an eye on fan activity, sometimes even taking suggestions here and there, such as some of the ideas regarding Ling Jiayi's hairstyles, she would never allow herself to be controlled by fans.
That was why, no matter how harshly her fans insulted her, she still prioritized Ling Jiayi's professional commitments, pushing away all commercial activities and other miscellaneous work so that he could focus on acting.
Once she finished sorting out Ling Jiayi's schedule, Ling Jiayi had also finished his wontons.
He had a metabolism that made even the most desperate female celebrities cry in envy; his appetite had always been large, and even the portions of his breakfast were generously sized.
A true carnivore, he would only eat vegetables if someone reminded him to, yet despite his voracious eating habits, he never gained weight. Even after five meals a day, his figure remained slender and lean.
Xiang Qingwei even thought he was too thin, but no matter how much she fed him, he never put on pounds. Once this project was over, Xiang Qingwei planned on arranging a fitness regimen for him.
However, his thin figure made him exceptionally suited to wearing ancient costumes, looking both elegant and ethereal.
Xiang Qingwei saw off Director Gou and the production manager, then turned to Ling Jiayi. "I'll be heading out first."
In the morning, she had taken Ling Jiayi's temperature, which had returned to normal. Seeing that he had finished a large bowl of wontons, she concluded that his appetite had also recovered, so there was nothing to worry about.
Ling Jiayi was drinking water when he heard Xiang Qingwei speak to him, nearly choking and coughing a couple of times before letting out an "oh." He didn't even look at Xiang Qingwei properly.
Ling Jiayi's subdued reaction even surprised Xiao Dong, who thought the man was acting quite strangely.
Xiang Qingwei had noticed Ling Jiayi's oddness earlier that morning. She walked over and looked at him suspiciously. "What's wrong?"
Ling Jiayi glanced back, a hint of fluster flashing beneath his eyes before he quickly looked away, attempting to feign calm as he turned back to the mirror. "What do you mean 'what's wrong'? Aren't you leaving? Why aren't you leaving?"
Xiang Qingwei grew even more puzzled. Just then, her cell phone rang, and she stepped out of the dressing room to take the call.
It was a brand representative, asking Tao Yuner to attend a ribbon-cutting ceremony at one of their stores; she spoke with the person for about five minutes before realizing it was getting late, and decided not to waste any more time on Ling Jiayi's strange behavior.
After giving Xiao Mei and Xiao Dong a few instructions, she bid farewell to Director Gou and left.
With Xiang Qingwei gone, Ling Jiayi finally felt some relief. The mere sight of her made him recall last night's kiss, which made his face redden and heart race, as if he'd done something shameful.
His heart pounded like a deer caught in a hunter's trap, fearful that she'd notice his feelings. He had hoped she would leave quickly, yet now that she was gone, Ling Jiayi found himself feeling empty and upset.
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The entire book has been translated, with a total of 414K words and more than 1,200 pages.
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