9
Han Xu didn’t stay long. He had a busy schedule every day and had only come to check on how his precious daughter’s injuries were healing. Once he was sure she was fine, he left in a hurry.
In the past, even if he missed his daughter and sent her a message saying he wanted to visit, the answer was always no. Now, he could show up without sending a heads-up, and his precious daughter wouldn’t get angry.
He was so overjoyed that he wanted nothing more than to pack her up and keep her by his side, so the other three couldn’t compete for her attention.
As Han Xu stepped out, Old Master Qi happened to be leaving the apartment across the hall as well. The two men met eyes and snorted in unison. Han Xu quickly slammed the door shut, making sure Old Man Qi had no chance to glimpse his precious daughter.
Old Master Qi: “…”
“Meow~” Xiao Mi stretched her paws out from the cage, begging Jiang Mian to let her out. Jiang Mian had been about to head to the kitchen with the small hammer she’d found in the utility closet to work on the jade. But at the cat’s cry, she walked over to Xiao Mi instead, hammer in hand.
Sensing the murderous intent, Xiao Mi shrank back into the cage, her emerald eyes staring up at Jiang Mian. Somehow, that look made Jiang Mian’s irritation vanish.
She set down the hammer, fetched the nail clippers, trimmed the sharp tips of Xiao Mi’s claws, and then picked up the hammer again and returned to the kitchen.
Clanking sounds rang out intermittently. It took Jiang Mian nearly half an hour to extract the dark, dull section from the scrap jade. What emerged was a palm-sized piece of iron ore, covered in faint carvings.
Jiang Mian ran her fingers over it carefully but couldn’t discern any pattern. The marks seemed random.
Yet the object did emit a faint spiritual energy. Even with all the knowledge Jiang Mian had gained in her previous life in the world of cultivation, she couldn’t identify what it was.
But regardless of what it was, as long as it had spiritual energy attached to it, she could use it.
Over the course of a week, Jiang Mian used this spiritually infused piece of iron ore, along with various items she bought online and from antique shops, to set up a small spirit-gathering array in her bedroom.
In the world of cultivation, both forming and breaking arrays fell under the discipline of formations. A cultivator who mastered formations was the strongest among peers of the same cultivation level. But the way of formations was ever-changing—mastering it was no easy feat.
Jiang Mian only knew the basics. But even those basics were more than enough for this world.
The night she finished setting up the array, she didn’t meditate. Instead, she slept soundly.
She was still an ordinary mortal now. The mental energy she had expended on the array could only be replenished through sleep. The next day, when she woke up, her eyes were bright and her energy was completely restored.
She looked inward at her dantian and found a tiny bit more true qi. She was satisfied.
In high spirits, she arrived at school to find the students unusually excited. Just as she was wondering why, she overheard some squeals: “Oh my god, why would Brother Qin come to our school?”
“I heard he came with Director Zhang to scout for the female lead of their next movie.”
“Whatever the reason, let’s get to the auditorium! Maybe one of us will get chosen as the lead!”
…
A girl running past bumped into Jiang Mian in her haste, mumbled a quick apology, and kept going.
It took Jiang Mian a few seconds to realize that the “Brother Qin” they were talking about was her father, the film emperor—Qin Jingrun.
Qin Jingrun was the only actor in film history to achieve a Grand Slam by the age of thirty. His fame had not only swept the nation but had also reached overseas. In less than three years, he had established a firm foothold in Hollywood.
Last year, he had played the male lead in a Hollywood blockbuster that became a global box office smash, bringing great pride to China.
Jiang Mian also recalled this plot point from the book. The renowned director Zhang Zhixin was preparing to shoot a new film and had been searching for the right female lead. He and Qin Jingrun were close friends, so he had invited Qin Jingrun to come to the film academy with him to help evaluate candidates.
It was this very opportunity that brought Guan Xin to Director Zhang’s attention. She landed the lead role in his first film and became an overnight sensation.
At that time, the original Jiang Mian was in an extremely volatile emotional state because of the scar left on her wrist. When she learned that Guan Xin had caught Director Zhang’s attention and that Qin Jingrun had been involved in the selection process, she instantly exploded. Without a second thought, she went to confront Qin Jingrun, demanding to know why he had helped Guan Xin. Her temper flared, and she lashed out at him.
Someone captured the scene on camera and posted it online. Even though the video was quickly taken down, it had already been saved and shared. Qin Jingrun had countless devoted female fans. When they saw someone daring to lay hands on their idol, they turned their collective fury on Jiang Mian.
Some recognized who she was and directed irrational hostility toward her at school, eventually driving the original Jiang Mian to drop out in a fit of rage.
In reality, Qin Jingrun had never expressed any opinion on the matter.
And the real reason Guan Xin was chosen by Director Zhang was that she had learned from an important male supporting character that Director Zhang’s new film was dedicated to his deceased first love. He was looking for an actress who resembled that lost love in temperament. So, Guan Xin styled herself to look like Zhang’s late first love and successfully caught his eye.
After reviewing the plot, Jiang Mian was speechless.
She decided to go check out the commotion. Fair competition, after all.
The school auditorium had filled up in no time. Long lines had already formed outside. Two-thirds of the crowd were female students, most of them there to audition and also to catch a glimpse of Qin Jingrun.
There were two lines. Guan Xin stood in the right-hand queue, with Gu Qiwen by her side. The golden couple looked perfectly matched.
Guan Xin and Gu Qiwen spoke quietly. He encouraged her, “Director Zhang will definitely choose you.”
Guan Xin felt a twinge of guilt. She was quite confident that Director Zhang would pick her, because she had obtained a secret through someone—at the cost of kissing that person. Facing Gu Qiwen now, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of remorse.
But she needed this opportunity too badly.
“Qiwen, I will succeed,” she said, gripping his hand, her beautiful eyes filled with determination.
Then her expression suddenly changed. Gu Qiwen followed her gaze and saw Jiang Mian strolling over unhurriedly.
His eyes turned cold.
“Qiwen, ignore her,” Guan Xin said with disgust. “Otherwise, she’ll just play the victim again and make people misunderstand you.”
Jiang Mian paid no attention to the protagonist duo at all. She joined the left-hand queue. Some onlookers were surprised—they had expected her to cut in line, but instead she was waiting patiently like everyone else.
After a while, Jiang Mian’s phone rang. The caller ID read: “Beautiful One”
The original Jiang Mian’s nicknames for her four fathers in her phone were:
billionaire tyrant — “Big Cute One”
Taoist Dad — “Big Beard”
Film Emperor Dad — “Beautiful One”
Police Dad — “Big Guy”
When Jiang Mian first saw them, she found it hilarious. She answered the call. Qin Jingrun’s deep, magnetic voice—the one that made his female fans scream came through: “Baby, guess where I am?”
Jiang Mian: “…”
“I’m at your school. I’ll come find you later.” The Film Emperor Dad always spoke to his precious daughter in a tone reserved for soothing a small child.
The original Jiang Mian had loved it when she was little, but grew to hate it as she got older. Every time her Film Emperor Dad took her out, they had to bundle up in disguises, which annoyed her greatly. From then on, she hadn’t liked meeting up with Qin Jingrun much.
Jiang Mian: “I know you’re at my school.”
Qin Jingrun: “Wow, our baby is so smart.”
Jiang Mian: “…”
No wonder the original Jiang Mian couldn’t stand it. With her personality, there was no way she could accept Qin Jingrun’s tone of voice—the way you’d coax a three-year-old.
But from Qin Jingrun’s perspective, no matter how old his precious daughter got, in his eyes she was still the little sticky rice ball he used to hold in the palm of his hand.
He was busy with work, often going long stretches without seeing Jiang Mian. Plus, the other three fathers were competing for her attention. So, he treasured every single meeting with his precious daughter.
Qin Jingrun continued, “Where are you now? Daddy will have Lin Xi come pick you up.”
Jiang Mian said, “I’m waiting in line.”
Qin Jingrun: “In line for what?”
Jiang Mian: “I heard Director Zhang is casting. I came to check out the fun.”
Qin Jingrun was very surprised. He had always assumed his precious daughter had only enrolled in the film academy for fun. His plan was to let her play around at school for two years. If she ever wanted to act in a production for fun, he would arrange it for her.
“Silly child, if you’re interested in this film, why didn’t you just tell Daddy? I’ll have Director Zhang keep the female lead role open for you. Then Daddy will act alongside you.”
Even if his daughter’s acting wasn’t great, with him personally teaching her, no matter how bad it could be, it wouldn’t be that bad.
“Don’t,” Jiang Mian quickly refused. The reason the original Jiang Mian lived alone was precisely because she didn’t want her four fathers meddling in her life. Once they got involved, she wouldn’t have to do anything—she could just enjoy the fruits of their efforts.
What meaning would life have then?
“I want to rely on my own abilities,” Jiang Mian said.
Qin Jingrun knew his precious daughter’s temperament well. Hearing the determination in her voice, he laughed. “Then Daddy will wait to see what you can do. It’s hot outside, and there are so many people. I’ll have someone bring you in first.”
As he said this, Qin Jingrun had already braced himself for his precious daughter to refuse. To his surprise, Jiang Mian agreed readily. After hanging up, Qin Jingrun called his assistant, Lin Xi, and said, “Find someone to bring Mianmian in and put her at the front of the audition line.”
“You got it.”
Jiang Mian received a text from her Film Emperor Dad—a short audition scene. He was pulling strings for his precious daughter, and he was doing it openly and unapologetically.
It was a very simple scene. The main goal was to convey the female lead’s pain and unwillingness when forced to part from her boyfriend.
Jiang Mian thought for a moment, then texted back: “Dad, I heard Director Zhang wrote this film for his first love. Is that true?”
Qin Jingrun didn’t reply for a long time.
Jiang Mian: “???”
Over on his end, Qin Jingrun was about to head back into the auditorium when he saw the word “Dad” in Jiang Mian’s reply. He stood there frozen for several seconds.
Just like the first two fathers, he hadn’t heard his precious daughter call him “Dad” in years. Seeing it now hit him hard.
After a while, Jiang Mian finally received his reply: “The information you got is correct. But Director Zhang doesn’t like people bringing it up. Mention it, and he’ll turn hostile.” When it came to his precious daughter, the Film Emperor Dad held nothing back.
Jiang Mian asked, “If someone dressed up to look like Director Zhang’s first love and auditioned, would he choose her?”
Her father sent back a puzzled emoji. He didn’t think his precious daughter was the type to impersonate someone else to gain approval. “Who would do that?”
Jiang Mian realized he thought she was asking for herself. “I’m just hypothesizing. What if someone did?”
Qin Jingrun replied: “Zhang would blacklist that person immediately.”
Jiang Mian raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Guan Xin.
According to the original novel, didn’t Guan Xin catch Director Zhang’s eye at the audition and become an overnight sensation?
But the book had only glossed over this part in a few sentences—it hadn’t gone into detail. Was there something more to it?
She couldn’t help but feel that Gu Qiwen’s head was looking a little green.
Just then, Gu Qiwen happened to look up and met her gaze. His expression twisted with disgust before he looked away.
Tsk.
Jiang Mian withdrew her amused gaze.
**