← Novel

Madness in the Method: Her Path to Stardom

Chapter 19 / 20

‹›

Chapter 19 of 20

‹›

Chapter 19

Madness in the Method: Her Path to Stardom

📱NovelCodex for AndroidYour library, progress and tokens, in an app made for reading on your phone.Get the app

Because her image is suitable.

This was a brilliant statement.

So brilliant that Qin You couldn’t help but chuckle.Full novel: Madness in the Method: Her Path to Stardom — read the rest free on N​o⁠v​e⁠l​C⁠o​d⁠e​x⁠.​o⁠r​g⁠

Director Wang wasn’t lying. He had indeed chosen her because Qin You’s image was a perfect match for Ling Yu.

In the future, when Ling Yu’s image is reversed, the audience will look back on this sentence and naturally think… ‘It seems he wasn’t wrong.’ But right now, this statement was misleading enough for the audience to believe it was a veiled jab at Qin You.

And just like that, with a single clip, the netizens’ hostility toward “Sleepless City” was instantly dispelled. Some even started to revel in the drama, eager to see what would happen next.

This question and Director Wang’s reply were immediately clipped by quick-fingered netizens. The reposts even surpassed those of the interview itself. After all, many spectators didn’t have the patience to watch a several-minute-long interview; they just wanted to be entertained.

Several related topics even spontaneously appeared on the trending searches.

For instance, one of them—

#HighEQ#

At first glance, it seemed unrelated to “Sleepless City” or Qin You. But a click revealed a flood of people posting—”Low EQ: Because she happens to be a mistress. High EQ: Because her image is suitable.”

It was essentially a derivative trending topic from that interview.

There were also trending topics about Director Wang himself, and, not forgetting their original purpose and refusing to be distracted by any of the above topics, Qin You’s anti-fans had stubbornly cursed her onto the trending searches all by herself.

Looking at this row of related trending topics, Qin You’s most感慨-filled thought was, surprisingly, that “Vanity Fair” had kept its former name, “Sleepless City,” this time.

She could roughly guess Director Wang’s thought process. Perhaps he was originally torn between the two names. In her past life, the result of his indecision was clearly “Vanity Fair.” But this time, due to Yang Qiu’s exposé, netizens had a preconceived notion of the show’s title. If he were to change the name now, not only would future promotional efforts be far less effective, but most importantly, it would look like a “retreat”—an attempt to evade attacks by changing the name, which was something Director Wang absolutely could not tolerate.

That must be why he decided to keep “Sleepless City” as the original tentative title.

Qin You actually quite liked this name.

And it gave her the feeling that things had truly changed.

She had truly been dealt this good hand and was about to play her ace.

This wasn’t a dream.

The trending topics flooding the internet weren’t a dream, the storm of controversy centered around her wasn’t a dream, and the shock from her transformed, fleeting glimpse in the trailer that occasionally popped up amidst the chaos wasn’t a dream either.

The knuckles of the hand Qin You was using to grip her phone slowly turned white, and the smile on her lips finally couldn’t help but widen, eventually turning into an exaggerated, somewhat frightening grin that should never appear in front of any camera.

.

Director Wang was only gone for a day, and the actors only enjoyed a day of leisure. After all the news and Director Wang’s various interviews began to ferment online, it was time for everyone to get back to work.

“Sleepless City” was officially scheduled to premiere in a week, followed by a weekly broadcast of one episode. Theoretically, they had more than enough time for filming, but with a sudden deadline looming, everyone was still a bit nervous.

Besides Director Wang reappearing on set, the actors who had been pulled back to the first episode’s set for reshoots also returned one after another.

Qin You also met the new actor for Fang Ziyu for the first time.

Although, strictly speaking, it wasn’t the “first time,” since she had already seen her in the trailer.

The “new Fang Ziyu,” while not identical in appearance to Yang Qiu, belonged to the same category. Her features were light, clear, and elegant, like a white camellia with dewdrops still clinging to its petals.

Simply put, she was a delicate, pale-faced beauty, the kind that soothed the heart, without Qin You’s heart-pounding aggressiveness.

The new Fang Ziyu jumped off the bus with Zhao Anya’s arm in hers, a bright, sunny smile on her face. In person, she seemed even more lively and outgoing than in the trailer.

She was chattering on about something, and Zhao Anya beside her couldn’t help but chuckle. It seemed they were not only acquainted but had already become good friends.

Qin You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

She had thought Zhao Anya and Yang Qiu were the closest of friends.

In her past life, there was very little sincerity in the show “Vanity Fair.” The only exception was perhaps the relationship between Fang Ziyu and Le Qing, played by Zhao Anya.

Although the audience loved the cold style of “Vanity Fair,” they were also deeply moved by this single point of warmth amidst the indifference.

Outside of the show, Zhao Anya and Yang Qiu had been good friends since university. Later, when Yang Qiu took on several bad roles in bad dramas, although the audience viewed her through the Fang Ziyu filter, she still attracted a lot of criticism. Zhao Anya always spoke up for her.

Although Zhao Anya was Yang Qiu’s friend and her assessment was certainly not objective, the public loved to see this kind of drama where one unconditionally supports a friend in harmless matters—and it reminded them of Fang Ziyu and Le Qing.

Part of the reason Zhao Anya’s popularity grew was thanks to this much-talked-about sisterly affection between her and Yang Qiu.

Of course, there were surely many cynical people, including Qin You herself, who suspected that Zhao Anya and Yang Qiu were just putting on an act, that their touching friendship was merely a promotional tool.

It was the entertainment industry, after all. Feelings were something to be observed and forgotten. How could one believe what was shown in front of a camera?

But after her rebirth, Qin You had personally witnessed how Zhao Anya helped Yang Qiu in every way on set.

In Qin You’s eyes, Yang Qiu was practically a giant baby, and Zhao Anya was her nanny. There was no other explanation for it, except that she genuinely considered Yang Qiu a friend.

From what Qin You saw, the friendship Zhao Anya displayed on camera was actually a toned-down version, so it naturally wasn’t for promotional purposes.

She had originally thought that after Yang Qiu’s foolish actions ruined her own future, the only person on the crew who would be genuinely sad for her would be Zhao Anya.

She didn’t expect to see a scene like this.

She wasn’t surprised that Zhao Anya wouldn’t do anything rash; she wasn’t as foolish and impulsive as Yang Qiu. It was just that Qin You hadn’t expected her to become friends with the “new Fang Ziyu” so quickly.

This move was practically a stab in the back of her friendship with Yang Qiu, a stab massive enough to completely sever the bond.

Even if Yang Qiu had brought this upon herself and was in the wrong no matter how you looked at it, friendship is a relationship where emotion is supposed to override reason. Zhao Anya’s choice to get along with the person who “snatched” Yang Qiu’s role was undoubtedly an absolute betrayal.

It wasn’t that Qin You felt any sympathy for Yang Qiu; she just found the situation rather interesting.

She remembered that at this point in time, the fandom economy was just starting to take shape but hadn’t fully formed yet, existing at a very subtle intersection. In the past, it was a common tactic for male and female actors in a drama to have a romance rumor to generate publicity, and scandals were an important way for stars to maintain their exposure. As the fandom economy gradually took shape, the use of this tactic decreased. Young male and female actors began to choose same-sex costars for purer “rumors,” which could allow couple fans to let their imaginations run wild while keeping solo fans calm.

Zhao Anya, whether intentionally or not, had never had anyone too close to her, except for her friendship with Yang Qiu, which was a constant topic of discussion and kept her in the public eye—in a completely positive way.

Now, Qin You was certain that Zhao Anya had indeed been intentional—intentionally crafting a moving and tragic friendship, even at the cost of sacrificing a real one.

Qin You’s expression couldn’t help but turn a little odd.

It seemed that “Sleepless City,” both on-screen and off, had a perfectly consistent atmosphere.

Zhao Anya had finally returned to this set, and her scenes with Wang Hexing could finally be filmed.

Qin You’s task for the day was unusually light. For the past few days, she’d had almost no rest. Because many actors had been pulled back for reshoots, the scenes that would have been interspersed with hers were suddenly gone, and she had to work non-stop.

Now that those actors were gradually returning, she had some breathing room.

But it was only enough time to catch her breath. As soon as Zhao Anya’s scene was finished, it was her turn again.

This scene was with Li Shan, who played the managing partner of Tomorrow Capital.

A confrontation.

Tomorrow Capital and Magic Box had a disagreement.

The honeymoon period between venture capital and a company is always short, and one never knows when it will end.

And Ling Yu chose to side with Magic Box, which was a major reason why Li Ruixi’s trust in Ling Yu later expanded to a worrying degree.

Amidst the rugged, industrial-style decor with exposed wiring, two impeccably dressed investors, who seemed out of place in this environment, fell into a silent standoff after a calm argument.

It ended with Ling Yu’s victory and the managing partner’s concession.

“One month. If you don’t reach the expected growth within one month, I will find someone to help you.”

“Cut!”

Director Wang called cut, and the tense atmosphere on set instantly dissipated. Those who had been holding their breath watching the scene between Li Shan and Qin You also let out a sigh of relief.

If you had to say which two people on set were the most captivating to watch act together, it would be Li Shan and Qin You.

Li Shan was a veteran actor, and Qin You… Qin You was exceptionally talented. When the two acted opposite each other, the effect was that the strong became stronger. The auras from both sides were so powerful they felt like they were about to overflow.

Onlookers couldn’t help but hold their breath as they watched their acting showdown.

It was just a pity that they had too few scenes together.

As the days passed and the scenes at Magic Box were mostly finished, the first episode of “Sleepless City” aired amidst great anticipation and deliberate hype.

“Sleepless City” was broadcast on the country’s largest streaming platform.

In her past life, among the countless analyses of why Director Wang chose to release “Vanity Fair” as a web drama, there was one that didn’t deify him but instead considered it from a pragmatic, economic perspective.

That is, the television industry, a sunset industry with abundant but stable capital, couldn’t arouse the enthusiasm of the investment world. Streaming media, this emerging phenomenon, was where investors seeking returns of hundreds of times their investment liked to place their bets.

Therefore… it wasn’t surprising that Director Wang had basically no connections in the television industry, but half of the major and minor streaming platforms in the country had his investment from back in the day.

Thus, the “Vanity Fair” of the past, and the “Sleepless City” of the present, received the highest level of promotional treatment.

App splash screen jumps, homepage banner promotion jumps, search bar jumps, and full-coverage ad patches.

Any user who clicked into the app that day, even if they hadn’t been on Weibo and been bombarded with news about “Sleepless City,” now knew of the show’s existence.

And the exquisite promotional posters and the automatically playing, art-piece-like trailer for “Sleepless City” gave them a good first impression.

—It looks like a big production.

.

The cast of “Sleepless City” was mostly newcomers. Even those with acting experience had only done scattered work, playing extras here and there or appearing in an ad. Many had never seen themselves on screen, especially in a TV drama.

Therefore, Director Wang, in a rare display of humanity, set aside some time to gather the actors still on set to watch the first episode’s broadcast together instead of filming. Although Qin You strongly suspected that the reason he did this was that if he didn’t, the people filming tonight would definitely be fidgety, their minds preoccupied with the show’s reception, causing efficiency to plummet. Rather than roaring “Focus!” to no effect, it was better to do everyone a favor and give them the night off.

So, after filming for the afternoon was done, a large group of people took the bus back to the original hotel, had a big meal, and then, carrying all sorts of drinks and snacks, came to the screening room—Director Wang had someone cast the screen, so everyone could watch it together like a movie.

The first episode of “Sleepless City” was scheduled to air at 8 p.m., but with five or six minutes to go, the previously rustling and chattering crowd had spontaneously quieted down—they were too nervous. Even when they were chattering earlier, many didn’t even know what they were saying, just blurting out random words to alleviate their tension. And now, with only a few minutes left, they were finally too nervous to even utter meaningless phrases.

Finally, the time on the screen jumped to 8:00 p.m.

The staff member in charge of screen casting nervously refreshed the video. The screen, which had been looping advertisements, finally displayed new content.

“In the summer after my high school graduation, my best friend invited me to a cocktail party. There, I decided what I would major in.”

A familiar female voice emerged. Many had watched the trailer over and over, so they were naturally not strangers to this opening line.

However, this time it was a bit different from the trailer. The originally somewhat eerie background music was replaced by the soothing sound of a violin at a banquet, reducing the tense atmosphere intentionally created by the trailer.

The camera swept down from above, across the luxurious banquet. A middle-aged man in a sharp suit tapped his wine glass and began to give a toast for his daughter. At the center of the shot, Zhao Anya, in a red dress, smiled brightly and beautifully. At the edge of the frame was Fang Ziyu in a white dress. It would be a while before the camera zoomed in on Fang Ziyu’s face.

The banquet scene lasted for about five minutes, beginning with Fang Ziyu’s monologue and ending with her monologue, after which the opening theme song began.

Everyone let out a sigh of relief.

Although they felt their show seemed pretty damn good when watching the trailer, cases of trailer deception were not uncommon in the entertainment industry. Too many movies and TV shows had trailers that looked interesting and exquisite but were actually a pile of crap.

But in those five minutes, they were finally sure that they had indeed acted in a very damn good drama.

When the opening theme ended, the time jumped three years forward. Fang Ziyu was trying to get an internship at a top investment bank. Of course, she hoped this internship would eventually turn into a full-time job.

The plot skipped her first two interviews and started directly with her final interview with her future direct superior.

Like all workplace dramas, the female protagonist just starting out always encounters a caustic, hard-to-please superior who disregards subordinates and can’t remember their assistant’s name. Fang Ziyu was no exception.

But also like all workplace dramas, the female protagonist will eventually earn the heartfelt approval of this hard-to-please superior. Fang Ziyu was no exception either.

The only exception was probably that this process only took twenty minutes.

Within twenty minutes, Fang Ziyu, with her debater-like sharp tongue, her uncrushable cockroach-like tenacity, and her complete disregard for sleep and personal life, had conquered the superior who had said after the interview, “She’s passable. We’re just looking for an intern, anyway.”

Although “conquered” might be a bit of an exaggeration, because this superior, like all her counterparts, only showed a slightly surprised look and a faintly concealed smile.

Director Wang’s use of these twenty minutes was highly efficient. Not only did Fang Ziyu conquer her demon-like superior, but she also found time to argue with her boyfriend several times.

This argument storyline was also progressive. First, it was perfunctory; several times Fang Ziyu answered the phone while working overtime, just mumbling “uh-huh” and “okay.” Then came the confession—”I’m really working hard,” “I really want this job.” This exhausted confession happened to overlap with the first major setback she encountered at the investment bank, which led to a breakdown. It could be said that Director Wang truly took plot efficiency to the extreme. Finally, the two had an explosive argument. On Fang Ziyu’s birthday, Xie Chu showed up with a carefully prepared surprise, but Fang Ziyu had long forgotten it was her birthday. She had a report due in two days and was rushing to finish it on her computer.

When Xie Chu appeared from the darkness with the birthday surprise, Fang Ziyu was startled, and the cup next to her toppled over. Her keyboard sizzled and died.

The only thing that made her sigh in relief was that only the keyboard was broken; the file was still safe on the screen.

So the audience saw that as Xie Chu walked towards her holding the birthday cake, Fang Ziyu was clearly absent-minded, her thoughts entirely on her keyboard and her report.

And when Xie Chu said that tonight’s surprise wasn’t just the cake and gift, that he wanted to take her somewhere, Fang Ziyu’s patience finally ran out. She asked impatiently:

“Why can’t you understand that for me, the most important thing right now is this job.”

“If I relax even a little bit, even if I just rest for one more minute, and it leads to me not getting a permanent position, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life!”

Xie Chu had had enough too.

For the past month, all he had gotten from Fang Ziyu was constant neglect and perfunctory responses. He wanted to mend their relationship, carefully spending a week preparing a surprise, only to be met with a cold shoulder.

The result of their argument was Xie Chu slamming the door and leaving. Fang Ziyu sat stunned in the candlelight for a moment, but only for a moment, before grabbing her laptop and going out to find a computer store to fix the keyboard.

On the other side, Xie Chu, after slamming the door, drove alone to an amusement park.

The park wasn’t large, and even looked a bit shabby. The kiddie ride-like thing Xie Chu was sitting on was not only out of place with his height and build, like an adult sitting in a cradle, but it was also rusty and mottled, with much of the colorful paint peeled off.

But this was the amusement park where he and Fang Ziyu first met, and it was scheduled to be demolished next month.

The image on the screen suddenly brightened. All the cold, sharp tones were stripped away, and the high school memories of Fang Ziyu and Xie Chu were presented in this bright, almost overexposed hue.

A one-minute memory, fragmentally showcasing all the beautiful moments between the two from high school to university. When the memory ended, it wasn’t Xie Chu’s face that appeared on the screen, but Fang Ziyu’s, who had stopped typing.

Evidently, Xie Chu wasn’t the only one reminiscing about the past.

Qin You heard someone sob softly. Although everyone present had read the script and participated in the show, once those shots were edited and orchestrated, paired with a tear-jerking background score, the effect was completely different from what they had seen on set.

Fang Ziyu’s hands paused on the keyboard for a long time. The first half-hour of this episode was practically synonymous with racing against time. The plot was tight, the rhythm was fast, and not a single moment was wasted. But at this moment, there was a rare blank space of more than ten seconds, used only to film a moment of silence, which naturally made the effect of this silence all the more shocking.

Meanwhile, Xie Chu had already left the dilapidated amusement park. He got out of his car and walked into a low-key luxury restaurant, but he barely touched the food the waiter served, only trying to get drunk with glass after glass of wine.

Fang Ziyu finally reached for her phone.

She hesitated before dialing the number.

Xie Chu glanced at the lit-up phone on the table and answered.

“What’s up? Finished your report, so you have time to call me?”

The sarcasm in his voice was made more obvious by his drunkenness.

And just as Xie Chu was spewing cold, sarcastic remarks, the camera moved away from him. It shifted from him to a few tables away.

Appearing in the shot was first a hand holding a phone, then the lower half of a woman’s side profile.

Although only a hand and a small part of her face were visible, it was already clear that she was an extremely beautiful person.

“Hmm?”

A soft hum followed, carrying a hint of nonchalance, adding a touch of lazy, casual charm to her beauty.

Suddenly, she seemed to hear something behind her. Her body didn’t move, but her face turned slightly to the left, as if she wanted to look back. This movement fully revealed the lower half of her face to the audience. The exquisite, perfect jawline and those red lips, made even more gorgeous against her dark black hair, made one’s breath catch.

“Fang Ziyu, what do you take me for? A dog you can summon and dismiss at will?”

The conversation between Xie Chu and Fang Ziyu was coming to an end. In his anger, he hung up the phone. Although the audience could only vaguely hear his voice because the camera was far from him, it gave them a sense of eavesdropping.

“I’ll call back later.”

As her red lips parted, a husky voice sounded, and then with a “click,” the flip phone snapped shut.

This woman, whose face was unseen, stood up. She was wearing a thin satin jacket, which fell like flowing water as she rose.

The camera had, at some point, moved to her back. After the jacket fell, her slip dress revealed the lines of her shoulders and neck without reservation.

Then the lines of her arms, as she reached up to the hairpin that held her dark hair in a bun.

Her dark hair fell, and she shook her head lightly.

“Clack,” “clack,” “clack.”

After the sound of high heels, the camera moved to her legs and the fluttering hem of her dress.

As she walked step by step towards Xie Chu, the camera gradually panned up until she gracefully sat down in the seat opposite him.

The camera finally showed her full face.

“Arguing with your girlfriend?”

As her red lips parted, her husky voice flowed out like liquid gold.

Someone couldn’t help but let out a long breath. She had clearly watched Qin You film this scene, and she had already been stunned by her then, but she hadn’t expected that when the shots were combined, they could elevate Qin You’s stunning beauty to another level. This must be the charm of cinematography.

Director Wang patiently used a series of meticulously framed but tantalizing close-ups that didn’t show her face, building up the anticipation of the viewers in front of the screen layer by layer. And most crucially, Qin You’s face could indeed live up to such a tantalizing build-up. If it had been a less beautiful face, being built up like this would probably have only been met with curses from the audience.

And Director Wang seemed to want to take the tantalizing to the extreme. Qin You’s full face only appeared on the screen for a few seconds. After she said one line, the shot was abruptly cut, leaving only a black screen.

But the image still seemed to be imprinted on their retinas, lingering for a long time. From that black screen, they could almost still see Qin You’s face.

The next scene cut directly to Fang Ziyu presenting her report to her superior.

The presentation was very successful, and her superior briefly praised her, but Fang Ziyu seemed a bit absent-minded.

She sat at her desk, and in a daze, she suddenly grabbed her phone and put it to her ear.

The call didn’t go through several times, but her expression became more determined. She switched to another number—”Do you know where Xie Chu is now?”

The people sitting in front of the screen knew that the end of the episode was approaching.

Fang Ziyu wanted to find Xie Chu to apologize, but what she got was a cold glance from Ling Yu.

But knowing the plot didn’t stop them from getting nervous. Besides, in the trailer, the shot of Ling Yu turning around was only half-shown, and just now, Ling Yu’s full face had only appeared for a few seconds. This was a bit like scarcity marketing; they really wanted to see that face again—even though Qin You herself was sitting nearby, it was completely different…

Finally, Fang Ziyu ran all the way to the place Xie Chu’s friend had tipped her off to. The determination and urgency on her face hadn’t yet had time to turn into joy before it froze completely.

And the people in front of the screen finally got their wish to see that graceful figure again. Although many were thinking to themselves that they didn’t dislike Ling Yu because they knew the plot, a real audience seeing this should be about to explode with anger. They wondered what their reaction would be when they watched the second episode.

The first episode of “Sleepless City” ended with Ling Yu’s indifferent glance as she turned around.

The shot cut off abruptly again, but on the black screen, her face seemed to still be visible.

Someone let out a long breath.

“Holy crap… this show is definitely going to be a hit, right?”

Qin You couldn’t help but curve her eyes—it would be more than a hit; it would be a massive, explosive hit.

.

The overwhelming promotion for “Sleepless City” paid off. After the first episode aired, the show’s comment section, Weibo, and all sorts of other social media and forums were flooded with reviews.

First, the most basic ones—

“Ahhh, it’s so good! It’s been so long since I’ve seen such a satisfying drama!”

“The actors are all handsome guys and beautiful women! I’m chasing it! The director’s aesthetic is on point!”

“Damn, the plot of this one episode is enough for other shows to cover in ten episodes!!”

Then there were some discussing the ending—

“The male lead can’t have really cheated, right? He’s clearly so devoted to the female lead, sob… Did he deliberately find someone to make her angry? To make her jealous?”

“I think that’s possible. At the end, the male lead’s buddy immediately told the female lead where he was so she could go find him. It must have been on purpose!”

“I hope it’s as everyone guesses. Xie Chu is so cute, like a little puppy constantly trying to please Fang Ziyu. I hope they can be together happily. The screenwriter better not mess things up!”

“My heart broke at the amusement park scene. The next episode better be sweet!”

And those who were so stunned by Qin You’s face that they still hadn’t recovered—

“Don’t kill me for saying this… but isn’t Qin You’s character a bit too good-looking… She’s a real bitch, but she’s also really beautiful…”

“+1, I couldn’t even recognize her. Is this Qin You? Is this really Qin You? The moment the camera moved to her face, I was dumbfounded. And her voice changed too. Is it a dub?”

“It’s probably a dub. It’s very different from her real voice. And she is indeed beautiful. It proves that finding the right makeup and styling is as effective as plastic surgery. She should have played this kind of role from the start instead of playing the innocent little white flower, which not only made her blend in with the crowd but also caused her to suffer from persona backlash. How stupid.”

“She’s a real bitch, but she’s also really beautiful +1. I’ve already replayed the scene at 34 minutes almost a hundred times.”

“Heh heh… you’re all paid commenters, right? Whitewashing a mistress, watch out for karma.”

“Are you sick? Didn’t I just say she’s a real bitch? How is that whitewashing her? Can the moral guardians please stop policing everything and just let people appreciate a beautiful woman?”

“…”

The first episode of “Sleepless City” was scheduled to air on a Friday night at 8 p.m. This was a good time slot. Many people had just finished a tiring week of study or work and were looking for some entertainment, and “Sleepless City” appeared at just the right moment.

But this time slot could also be understood as some people, having just finished a tiring week, wanting to do nothing but collapse and sleep. Even an activity like watching a TV drama was a bit too taxing on their brains.

Therefore, after fermenting for a whole night and a day, the popularity of “Sleepless City” reached its peak the next evening. As far as the eye could see, the entire online world seemed to be discussing this show.

Under the deliberate guidance of the marketing team, the focus of the discussion was mainly on the fact that this was a good drama.

It was indeed a good drama in every sense of the word. The plot was solid, the rhythm was tight, and in nearly forty minutes, there was not a single wasted word, not a single ineffective plot point. Paired with exquisite cinematography and the good looks of the entire cast, watching this show became a pure enjoyment.

Perhaps some people didn’t understand things like plot rhythm, but Director Wang was never the type to hide his achievements. His marketing team stepped on several recent watered-down dramas to promote the thrilling viewing experience of “Sleepless City,” then stepped on several recent “floating” dramas criticized for their screenwriters’ lack of industry research to promote the solid background of “Sleepless City,” and finally stepped on several dramas where investors had inserted eye-sore actors to promote the on-point aesthetics of “Sleepless City.”

Thus, for a time, everyone spontaneously promoted it as a rare conscientious drama.

What completely set this tone was a review, which wasn’t quite a review, published a few days later.

The person who wrote this review was a Big V who had always been known for his sharp words. He was always caustic, relentlessly mocking any movie or drama, no matter how many people praised it. Although he would also add what he thought were the reasons for the movie or drama’s popularity, the human brain is inherently more sensitive to negative information, so most people only saw his harsh paragraphs.

In the early years, his style was not well-received. After all, the quality of movies and TV dramas was still quite good back then. When he came out and was venomous about a show the audience thought was good, some would naturally think he was being too “nitpicky,” an argumentative person who couldn’t read the room. But as the quality of domestic dramas continued to decline, and as it declined, it tried to drag the audience’s aesthetic standards down with it, and complaining a little would get you shut down by fans chanting “you do it if you’re so good” and “they’re already working so hard.”

At this time, a Big V who was not afraid of being attacked, was indifferent to the deteriorating internet environment, and had been venom-tongued for a decade, rose to fame. And unlike other Big Vs who just emotionally cursed shows for being bad, he was indeed a professional, always able to hit the nail on the head. And people always have a habit of believing in authority. For a time, this Big V was highly sought after, and some even righteously defended his past achievements—

His name is “Ultimate Vicious Chatterbox,” isn’t it normal for him to be a bit vicious?

It wasn’t without reason.

Ultimate Vicious Chatterbox’s review was published on a Thursday, the day before the next episode was to air.

@UltimateViciousChatterbox:

“To be honest, I went to watch the first episode of ‘Sleepless City’ because of its reputation, and I was a little disappointed.

“What reputation, you ask? It’s not the recent overwhelming praise for this show being a rare conscientious drama, but mainly the director’s reputation.

“A few days ago, I looked up the director and was shocked by his resume, so I decided to see what kind of drama a bona fide capital big shot would write and film himself.

“…”

“Actually, the show itself is quite good. The script is meticulous and solid, and the handling of details is very skillful, not at all like a newcomer director. It makes you sigh that comparisons are odious. How can there be people in this world who are good at everything?

“The male and female protagonists’ personas are also very fashionable, and to be able to write and act a love-brained male lead so sincerely and movingly without being cloying is a skill in itself.

“If I had watched this show without any preconceived notions, I would probably be very satisfied. But unfortunately, I went in with overly high expectations.

“How should I put this? I actually finished watching it a few days ago, and it certainly doesn’t take that long to write a review. I was mainly struggling with—

“So even an industry big shot can’t escape the desire for fairy tales.

“Yes, no matter how high-end this show is packaged, and even though the color palette is always cool, it doesn’t change the fact that this is an adult fairy tale.

“And a very cheesy fairy tale at that.”

As soon as this review was published, it was reposted like crazy.

“I’m finally experiencing that long-lost feeling of ‘You’re nitpicking this too? You can nitpick this?’ from Chatterbox again! Tears are welling up in my eyes!”

“A few days ago, the entire internet was praising it to the heavens, which made me rebellious. Even though it’s a genre I’m interested in, it made me not want to watch. But now Chatterbox is actually praising a show, and I’m rebellious again (yes, by Chatterbox’s standards, this should be considered super praise, right?). Ugh, this damned rebellious heart of mine…”

“Oh oh oh, Chatterbox actually praised a show! My youth is over! I have to go watch this show!”

“What did I just see?! By Chatterbox’s standards, this is basically a full-score evaluation, right?!”

“…”

Actually, if one were to diligently scroll back through “Ultimate Vicious Chatterbox’s” past reviews, way, way back to about six or seven years ago, one could still find many similar “it’s good but I still have to say a few words” type of evaluations. But that was six or seven years ago, which in internet terms, could be considered a whole era ago. And netizens have always been forgetful. So, this review by “Ultimate Vicious Chatterbox,” in their words, became “the only positive review from the venom-tongued Big V.” And it was a venom-tongued Big V who had never bowed to marketing and had never been seen taking a single advertisement for so long. Thus, another portion of the crowd who had originally thought “Sleepless City” was just marketing and its quality was uncertain, people who were naturally uninterested in promotion, were persuaded and decided to check out how this show was actually filmed.

For a time, after a brief decline, the popularity of “Sleepless City” reached another small peak.

These people’s drama-chasing experience was actually the best, because the next day was when the second episode of “Sleepless City” would air.

Full novel: Madness in the Method: Her Path to Stardom — read the rest free on N​o⁠v​e⁠l​C⁠o​d⁠e​x⁠.​o⁠r​g⁠
📱NovelCodex for AndroidYour library, progress and tokens, in an app made for reading on your phone.Get the app
‹ PreviousNext ›