Liang Yan anxiously posted on Weibo and scrolled through the comments. Aside from a few snide remarks like “Heh, at least you know you’re not worthy,” the rest were neatly in unison: “Phew, that’s a relief.”
She pressed a hand against her chest and exhaled in relief. At least now she wouldn’t get torn apart by Lu Lincheng’s fans.
Meanwhile, Zhuo Yang, who had been on the verge of exploding, saw Liang Yan’s Weibo response and twitched violently at the corner of her mouth. “What the… what does she even mean by this?”
From what she knew of her before, shouldn’t she be acting like a white lotus right now—jumping out to claim ‘he only grabbed me by accident’ just to stir up a storm, milk the chaos, and force her way into the spotlight? But this sudden string of denials, cutting ties as hard as she could… Zhuo Yang was completely caught off guard.
Lu Lincheng, meanwhile, hadn’t taken his eyes off the screen showing Liang Yan’s triple denial. His mind, however, drifted to last night—how she had clung to him like an enchantress, begging for more.
The faint stinging under his collarbone reminded him of the scratches she’d left when she lost control under the overwhelming intensity.
The more he thought about it, the darker his face became.
Why did it feel like Liang Yan had sobered up, pulled up her pants, and pretended nothing ever happened?
Good. Very good, Liang Yan.
He snapped his phone shut, saying nothing, the air around him turning heavy and cold, radiating a clear “stay away from me” aura.
Zhuo Yang dared not add a word. She glanced at Liang Yan’s Weibo account, whose follower count wasn’t even a tenth of Lu Lincheng’s, and snorted.
Not long after Liang Yan’s post went up, Lu Lincheng’s manager Zhuo Yang also posted from her own account: “Just an allergic reaction, no need to blow things out of proportion. :)”
As a well-known gold-medal manager in the industry, everyone knew Zhuo Yang handled Lu Lincheng’s affairs. Her stepping in to clarify was perfect. First, it signaled that Lu Lincheng was too busy filming to bother with petty gossip. Second, her Weibo was considered more personal, and phrased as a casual complaint, it was easier for fans and bystanders to accept. The implication: this was nothing more than a trivial matter.
When Liang Yan returned to her apartment from the airport and saw Zhuo Yang’s post, she scratched her head.
The fans below were practically setting off fireworks:
“Finally clarified! I’m so happy!”
“Lin Cheng’s allergic? Is he okay? My poor baby!”
“Ugh, Liang Yan riding on his fame again, how shameless.”
“Not everyone who sees an arm should immediately think of bare thighs, and not every bare thigh means nudity. Lin Cheng has had zero scandals since debut—stop with the malicious assumptions.”
Liang Yan wrinkled her nose.
Honestly, some fans probably still thought that aloof, ascetic Lu Lincheng was a virgin.
With a sigh, she set down her luggage, tidied up the apartment a bit, and soon received a WeChat message from Jiang Mu:
[Why on earth did you run off to Gudong City again!!!]
[Didn’t I tell you not to go for auditions???]
[Can’t you just listen for once? You’re going to drive me crazy!]
Feeling guilty, Liang Yan could already imagine Jiang Mu’s frantic expression through the screen. She simply replied: [Didn’t pass the audition.]
Jiang Mu: [Besides that… there wasn’t anything else, was there?]
Liang Yan lied: [What else? If you want to laugh at me, just say it.]
After a pause, Jiang Mu replied: [Nothing.]
[I told you about that live-streaming platform event. If you don’t want to do it, fine. But stop sneaking off to auditions behind my back.]
Liang Yan, fresh out of those missing three years, was still too naïve and straightforward, unversed in the ways of the industry.
Looking at the text bubbles on her screen, she wanted to type out her empty schedule but instead lowered her eyes, her expression dimming: [If I don’t go for auditions, then what am I supposed to do, Jiang Mu? Am I really going to quit the industry?]
[I don’t want the only thing people remember about me to be that I was Lu Lincheng’s wife—maybe by then his ex-wife—and a few cheesy CP edits from variety shows.]
She had rewatched the two dramas she filmed during those three lost years. Even she could see how absentminded and unfocused she’d been—her acting nowhere near her best. Combined with mediocre production quality, no wonder they flopped and left the public with the impression that “Liang Yan’s acting is awful.”
This time, Jiang Mu didn’t reply for a long while.
A sudden hollowness welled up in Liang Yan’s chest. She hugged her knees on the bed, the cold glow of the screen reflecting in her eyes. With her iPad, she watched CP edits of her and Yan Zhun—the poor-girl-laborer × domineering-CEO pairing. Then she scrolled through the trending #HasLuLinchengDivorcedToday# supertopic, where countless people eagerly awaited news of her and Lu Lincheng’s split.
It hit her just how little goodwill she had left among the public.
The phone on the bedside table suddenly lit up with a new message from Jiang Mu.
Liang Yan picked it up and saw that Jiang Mu had sent her a file:
“Invitation Letter – Contestant for the Inspirational Acting Competition Show On the Screen.”
Jiang Mu: [Fruit TV is working on a new variety show. They’re scouting for contestants right now. The format is that in each episode, actors perform a play, and both the live audience and online viewers score them. But it seems they haven’t found the right people yet.]
Jiang Mu: [The show is brand new, with nothing similar to compare it to. No one knows if it’ll be a hit or a flop. Established actors aren’t willing to risk it—losing on a competition show would be embarrassing. But the producers don’t want complete nobodies either, since they bring no buzz.]
Jiang Mu: [This invitation was originally sent to an artist under a friend of mine. They turned it down, so I just asked for the invitation and the producer’s contact info. If you’re interested, I’ll reach out to them and set it up. We can give it a try.]
Liang Yan opened the file and carefully read the invitation from beginning to end, biting her lip tightly.
Even if it was uncertain, even if the risks were high… this might be her last chance.
She replied with a single word: [Go.]
Half a month later, Fruit TV’s official Weibo announced the premiere date of On the Screen, along with its panel of judges.
The show would have three permanent judges: the renowned director Xu Feng, veteran film king Chen Shuoming, and newly crowned film queen Ye Su.
To stir up publicity, the producers bought a trending topic. Of the three judges, the one who drew the most discussion was Ye Su—not because of doubts about whether she was qualified at her age, but because of her much-gossiped-about personal life.
[Wow, Ye Su just had a baby not long ago, and she’s already back at work.]
[Right? I swear I only just saw her walking the red carpet heavily pregnant.]
[Jiheng’s been MIA forever. Is he busy making money for diapers? I miss his face.]
[Say what you want, but Ye Su’s acting is undeniable. She’s the textbook definition of raw talent. Let’s see how she does as a judge.]
The next day, after revealing the judges, the show began announcing its first round of contestants.
Among them: a seasoned character actor who had played supporting roles for years, two fresh newcomers, a middle-aged actress making her comeback after years of silence, and… Liang Yan.
The moment her name was revealed, the comment section of the show’s Weibo exploded in negativity.
[Liang Yan’s cringeworthy acting is competition material now? Did the producers run out of options?]
[Sure, she can carry bricks just fine, but acting? Forget it.]
[Honestly, I was starting to dislike her less after that last variety show—she’s pretty and at least hardworking. Why can’t she just stay in her lane as a vase?]
[How many times has she forced her way onto the trending list lately? Desperate much?]
[Isn’t she worried about embarrassing Lu Lincheng?]
[Please. Liang Yan is Liang Yan, Lu Lincheng is Lu Lincheng. Stop tying them together. :)]
Inside the Fruit TV Studio 1 dressing room, Liang Yan had just finished her makeup. Dressed in a crisp high-school uniform, she scrolled through the barrage of hate comments.
And with a defiant gleam in her eyes, she picked up her chopsticks and polished off two extra bowls of rice.
***