This person could truly be considered an old acquaintance, named Xi Peini.
When she had just debuted, the two of them were widely acknowledged by everyone as rivals, frequently being lumped together for comparison. They were compared on acting skills, looks, and awards. Even the clothes they wore and the events they attended would be dragged out for scrutiny.
Xi Peini had put in all her effort to treat her as an imaginary enemy, racking her brains in various ways to surpass her, but things backfired; every single time, the person who came out on top was her.
Xi Peini could be said to have lived completely under her shadow. As this happened more and more, her mindset gradually became distorted.
She had simply done her own job well and done nothing else, yet she was inexplicably treated by Xi Peini as a thorn in her side and a pain in her neck.
Unable to win fairly and squarely, Xi Peini started resorting to underhanded tactics and playing dirty tricks.
Buying black PR to splash dirty mud, secretly spreading rumors that she put on airs and stole resources, she stopped at nothing.
Song Yuran hadn’t paid any attention to these things at all. Knowing the score inside, she calmly watched Xi Peini’s moves, aware that the moment Xi Peini began spending her energy on crooked paths, she was destined to never catch up to her again.
An actor who doesn’t focus on studying acting skills and polishing works, but instead single-mindedly engages in such petty tricks, will never be able to stand at the peak.
And the facts proved this to be true. After that period, Song Yuran’s career was at the height of its success, and she won major domestic awards until her hands grew soft. After completing the grand slam, she directly broke into the international market, with resources so good they made people green with envy.
As for Xi Peini, she had long since lost her initial momentum and gradually faded into total obscurity.
Word had it that a while ago, due to a lack of work, she had gone off to film web-dramas.
Their statuses in the industry had long since become worlds apart, and in recent years, Xi Peini didn’t even qualify to be compared with her anymore.
Even though Xi Peini occasionally still harbored resentment, releasing negative gossip about Song Yuran from time to time and even fabricating vicious rumors, in Song Yuran’s eyes, these actions were merely the death throes of a clown and weren’t given any thought.
Yet even so, seeing Xi Peini’s name on the document, Song Yuran still felt a lack of interest. Unmotivated to keep flipping through, she directly closed the document. Until her departure, this file remained tossed aside and was never opened again.
Naturally, she also had no idea that on the very next page following Xi Peini’s name, there was written—Su Zhu.
A week later, on the day of departure to record the variety show, the weather was fine with bright skies, and the sunlight was dazzlingly clear.
The production team’s car hadn’t arrived yet, and Su Zhu was doing a final check of her luggage in the apartment.
The phone on the bedside table suddenly rang, and Su Zhu glanced at it. The caller ID displayed “Sister Ding.”
After a brief pause, Su Zhu swiped to answer, her tone carrying a familiar, well-behaved submissiveness: “Sister Ding, why are you calling at this hour? Is there any change on the production team’s side?”
Ding Yiwen was her manager. Calling suddenly before departure most likely meant there were temporary arrangements.
The other end of the line paused for two seconds without speaking immediately, instead transmitting a rustling sound.
Su Zhu’s fingertips stiffened, and her heart skipped a beat.
Experience from her past life told her that being sought out at this juncture definitely meant nothing good.
“We’re about to set off to record the show. How is your packing coming along? Did you bring everything?” Ding Yiwen’s voice finally came through, sounding somewhat vague.
“Everything’s packed and sorted. Documents, changes of clothes, and regular skincare products are all packed. I’m just waiting for the production team to pick me up.” Su Zhu lowered her gaze and nudged the suitcase on the floor. Although she frowned slightly out of worry, her voice carried a playful, smiling tone: “Sister Ding, is there something you need to tell me? Just spit it out directly, I can take it.”
She knew the industry’s routine too well; a manager’s hesitant tone like this mostly meant delivering bad news.
“Well, you…”
Ding Yiwen’s words had just begun when an assertive voice interrupted from the other end: “Let me say it.”
Immediately following that, the person on the phone changed.
It was her immediate superior and the company boss, Duan Dai.
Back then, when she first made her mark through a talent show, Duan Dai had spotted her potential at a glance and made the executive decision to sign her into the company.
In the entertainment industry, whether a small artist with no background or resources like her could make a breakthrough depended entirely on whether the company was willing to back them. A boss’s single word could determine her future.
“Su Zhu, listen to what I’m about to say clearly. I’ll only say it once, and I won’t repeat it a second time.” Duan Dai’s tone carried an unquestionable assertiveness, along with a hint of irritation.
The last shred of wishful thinking in Su Zhu’s heart was completely shattered, but her face still maintained a well-behaved and obedient look as her voice remained steady: “Go ahead, I’m listening closely.”
“Based on the company’s comprehensive evaluation of you, your current commercial value and popularity metrics have fallen far below the company’s initial expectations and investment in you.” Duan Dai’s words were direct and harsh. “This variety show is your last chance. If your performance on the show doesn’t make a splash and your popularity fails to reach the company’s requirements, the company won’t waste any more time and resources on you in the future. You know where you stand.”
As soon as these words came out, Su Zhu couldn’t help frowning. She saw things as clearly as a mirror and completely understood what Duan Dai meant.
This wasn’t a warning; it was an ultimatum.
In her previous life, she had spent time in a girl group and had seen too many artists who signed with companies yet failed to rise.
Once popularity declined and they couldn’t generate revenue for the company, they would be swiftly abandoned. The company wasn’t a charitable organization; nobody would support an idle person who didn’t make money.
Yet being abandoned by the company didn’t mean making a clean getaway.
Bound by contracts, these artists often still shouldered a debt of “training expenses.” If they encountered a somewhat conscientious company, they might negotiate contract termination and find an ordinary job to live on after leaving the industry. But if they met a ruthless one, this debt could crush someone so hard they couldn’t breathe for a lifetime, forcing them to be led around by the nose by the company.
Su Zhu knew these bosses far too well, and she knew Duan Dai’s words were definitely no joke.
When the original owner shot to overnight stardom, the company had indeed dumped plenty of resources into her, maxing out expectations. Naturally, they wouldn’t allow her to “fade into obscurity” now.
“I understand.” Su Zhu took a deep breath, pressing down the irritation in her heart. “President Duan, what do you want me to do? Just point out a clear path.”
“This variety show is your best opportunity to hype up your popularity. You should have seen the guest list, right?”
“I’ve seen it.”
Duan Dai’s tone softened slightly as she began analyzing the situation: “Senior Mao Junrong is venerable and respected, but given her age, cozying up to her won’t provide much help for your traffic. That mysterious big shot is still unknown, so they won’t be considered for now.”
“Among the remaining three, that male artist who started out in talk shows follows a comedic route; hyping a CP with him has no value, cheapens you, and easily slaps a ‘funny girl’ label on you, which is unfavorable for your subsequent transition. Therefore, you only have two choices: either tie yourself to the currently rising young fresh meat Cao Yi to hype a romantic CP, or find a way to hype a lesbian-themed popularity angle with the actress Xi Peini.”
Su Zhu: “…”
Just as expected, the thing she feared and dreaded the most had arrived.
Thinking back to her past life, in her former group, in order to break out from the pack, quite a few members chose to find a partner to mutually hype CPs, with some even getting into three-way love triangles for hype.
As for her, because she found these things a headache and didn’t want to get involved, she simply established a lazy-person persona to coast through the days.
She never expected that even after transmigrating, she still couldn’t escape this kind of thing.
She struggled to advocate for herself: “President Duan, isn’t hyping a CP quite risky? Hyping with Cao Yi makes it easy to get scolded by his fans for clinging and leeching traffic, especially since he just blew up in an idol drama—isn’t it a bit inappropriate to crowd around right now? And Xi Peini… I haven’t had any prior interactions with her. Hyping a lesbian angle out of nowhere, won’t it look too forced?”
“Risk and popularity are directly proportional.” Duan Dai’s tone was strong and unyielding. “I’ve already given you the direction; as for how to choose and how to operate, figure it out yourself. The company can only give you opportunities, and whether you can grab them depends on your own ability.”
Su Zhu lowered her gaze to look at the zipper on her suitcase, her voice dropping lower: “I know, I’ll consider it.”
“This is your last chance. Don’t let me down.” Duan Dai issued another warning and, without giving her a chance to speak further, directly hung up the phone.
The busy tone of the disconnected call sounded. Su Zhu stood in place holding her phone, looking at the neatly packed luggage. Her entire body felt as if its strength had been completely drained, and she fell backward, collapsing onto the bed.
Right before leaving, they hand-delivered such a piece of work to her.
Hype a CP with those two people? Were they playing with her?
First of all, as a young fresh meat who had just exploded in popularity from an idol drama whose heat hadn’t faded yet, going up to hype a CP right now wasn’t looking for scolding—what was it?
As for the other one, Xi Peini.
She had little popularity lately, and seemingly posed less risk than Cao Yi.
However, she had a deep impression of that name; this was precisely a minor villain who appeared with extremely high frequency in the early stages of the original story!
In other words, this person was someone who had offended Song Yuran.
In a big heroine novel, the ending for a villain who offended the female protagonist went without saying. Having just escaped the tiger’s den, she must have had her brain fried to go run around hyping a lesbian angle with a villain who had offended the female protagonist.
She was genuinely annoyed.
Yet she also knew this was the survival rule of the entertainment industry.
In this era where traffic reigned supreme, having no fans, no hype, and no discussions was the original sin. If you wanted to climb upward, wanted resources and works, you couldn’t afford to be picky; sometimes you had to compromise or even proactively manufacture talking points.
This was also the reason why, in her past life, even though she had the chance to fight for the center spot, she willingly chose to be a mid-tier floating passenger coasting along in the girl group.
She didn’t want to do things she disliked just for popularity.
Yet under her current identity, being restricted by others and owing the company, she had no say in the matter.
Su Zhu grabbed her hair, the ends springing up into a few cowlicks, her entire face written over with listless annoyance: “What should I do? I don’t want to work, I want to slack off…”
After lying flat for a bit, Su Zhu ran through various possibilities in her mind regarding the different choices she could make.
Discovering that nearly every single path seemed to be a dead end, she pulled out her phone, scrolled through her mobile banking balance, and quietly worked the abacus in her heart: If the company really freezes me, is this little nest-egg enough for me to rent a small apartment and slack off for a year or two? If worst comes to worst, quitting the industry to open a small milk tea shop works too.
Anyway, in this world, as long as she didn’t have too much interaction with Song Yuran, she should be able to survive.
Just as she was hesitating, her phone rang again.