After Spectating Gossip, the Entertainment Industry Thinks I’m a Big Shot – CH56

Chapter 56

Through Jin Shiheng, Ning Tianyou felt confident that he had Gu Xingshi’s production firmly under his control.

The progress was going just as he had anticipated, and apart from Jin constantly demanding more money, Ning was quite pleased with the arrangement.

As for Jin, he was content as well. Although his days now consisted of physical labor on set and nights of drafting marketing content, leaving him several pounds lighter, he felt his efforts were paying off. President Gu trusted him more and more and even consulted him on some production matters.

Jin couldn’t help but marvel at the twist of fate. Before, he’d gone to great lengths to get close to Gu Xingshi but couldn’t even reach him. Now, after sneaking in as a spy, he’d unexpectedly earned Gu’s appreciation.

But he still sold every piece of information to Ning Tianyou without hesitation. After all, even if he wanted to ride President Gu’s coattails, Sun Hongfei stood in his way. Jin’s only chance was to make Gu Xingshi disappointed in Sun, allowing him to step in.

Gu Xingshi, on the other hand, was just as satisfied. He’d initially been puzzling over how to lure Ning Tianyou into a trap, only for Ning to deliver Jin Shiheng right to him.

Jin was the perfect accomplice, faithfully passing along every piece of fake intel Gu planted, making him an ideal asset.

Not only that, but Jin was impressively hardworking, doing double the work without a single complaint. When the filming finally wrapped up, Gu Xingshi even found himself reluctant to let Jin go.

Jin, noticing Gu’s approving gaze, shivered.

While he was glad to have earned Gu Xingshi’s respect, the grueling labor had taken such a toll on him that even a look of praise from Gu made his entire body ache reflexively.

Fortunately, Gu Xingshi wasn’t entirely heartless. After gazing at him with a tinge of regret, he handed him a bonus for his overtime work and sent him on his way.

Jin breathed a sigh of relief.

The bonus itself wasn’t much to him, but he saw it as a signal from Gu Xingshi—an assurance that sticking with him wouldn’t lead to regret.

Now, all he needed was for the show to flop, for Gu Xingshi to lose faith in Sun Hongfei, and then his own rise would be imminent!

As anticipated, even before the series aired, gossip sites were already rife with smear campaigns.

At first, they criticized the entire cast’s acting, claiming many scenes were shot in studios, implying the production was likely filled with green-screen effects.

Then they hinted that Gu Xingshi’s statement about Sheng Yueqing playing a “supporting role” was misleading—that the show was actually a dual male lead drama, intended to elevate Sheng Yueqing’s status in the industry.

With the show’s release date still unconfirmed, rumors only continued to intensify.

The negativity spread online, even reaching Wen Yue’s ears.

With Sun Hongfei’s regular reports, Wen Yue had a thorough understanding of Reincarnation’s production and was well aware that it was nothing like the disaster the gossip accounts described.

Still, while he and the production crew were clear on this, the general public wasn’t.

Since Reincarnation was a partnership with the Film Hub and involved numerous companies and studios, there was a risk that some might be swayed by these rumors, leading to instability.

As the head of the Film Hub, it was necessary for him to make an appearance to show his support and gauge the operation’s overall progress, so he could adjust plans as needed.

However, when Tang Ling heard Wen Yue’s instructions, he hesitated. “President Wen, you mean… to go now?”

Wen Yue: “Is something wrong?”

Tang Ling left the office, his mind swirling with disbelief.

Ever since the whole orange diamond incident, he’d grown suspicious of Wen Yue and Gu Xingshi’s relationship. After subtle questioning, he’d pried a shocking truth out of Sun Hongfei: Wen Yue and Gu Xingshi were actually dating!

Tang Ling had tried to deny it, but Sun Hongfei kept listing examples that were impossible to refute.

Could it really be that Wen Yue, the reserved and stoic boss, was secretly in a relationship?

No, no, no, Tang Ling told himself. He couldn’t believe it!

But after countless discussions with Sun Hongfei, a small part of him began to think… maybe… just maybe it was possible?

This inner conflict reached a breaking point when the smear campaign against Reincarnation took off.

Sun Hongfei sighed, “President Gu’s been practically living in the editing and VFX rooms lately. No one can talk him out of it. It’ll probably take President Wen coming down himself to pull him out.”

Although Tang Ling had started to lean toward believing the romance rumors, he still clung to a sliver of doubt. He swore by his years of experience as an assistant:

“President Wen is not the type to drop everything just because of a relationship,” he said firmly.

But he was quickly proven wrong.

Especially when Sun Hongfei’s calm response came through the line, “Don’t worry, Assistant Tang—I get it.”

Tang Ling: “…”

I’m supposed to be President Wen’s assistant, so why does Sun Hongfei seem to understand him better than I do?!

When Wen Yue arrived, Sun Hongfei and the Film Hub’s manager were already waiting for him at the entrance.

As they walked, Wen Yue listened to the manager’s report, noting the efficiency gains and smooth coordination among the various resources now pooled together at the Film Hub.

At this point, Sun Hongfei casually remarked, “By the way, President Wen, Reincarnation’s VFX is being handled by two of the Film Hub’s studios. Both have unique strengths that complement each other, and President Gu personally connected them. He even advocated for using the new AI Engine, which has been working phenomenally…”

Wen Yue stopped in his tracks.

This new AI Engine was a product of Wen Corporation’s digital lab and had only recently been launched, primarily for use in gaming. Wen Yue had been planning to test it in film production later this year, yet Gu Xingshi had already taken the initiative to incorporate it.

Intrigued, Wen Yue changed course. “Let’s go to Reincarnation’s set first.”

Sun Hongfei hid a smile of satisfaction, while Tang Ling’s heart sank.

If he had any hope left before, it was now completely dashed.

Seeing Wen Yue’s eagerness to check on Gu Xingshi’s project was undeniable proof. If this isn’t being love-struck, then what is?

Completely unaware of his assistant’s silent breakdown, Wen Yue followed Sun Hongfei to the X-Concept studio, where the VFX work was in full swing.

As soon as they entered, Wen Yue saw Gu Xingshi standing by a computer, arms crossed, discussing the VFX with a technician.

Wen Yue had assumed that as a manager, Gu Xingshi would only have a basic understanding of the technical details involved in using the AI Engine. Yet, listening to Gu Xingshi’s creative, if slightly unconventional, ideas, Wen Yue found himself impressed. While Gu Xingshi’s suggestions were imaginative, they often provided an unexpected spark of insight—even giving Wen Yue some ideas for future tech development.

Engrossed, Wen Yue fell into thought as he observed Gu Xingshi.

From Sun Hongfei and Tang Ling’s perspective, however, it looked like he was simply staring dreamily at Gu Xingshi.

Sun Hongfei nudged Tang Ling with his elbow, smirking, “Admit it, Assistant Tang. Nothing’s more charming than a man absorbed in his work, don’t you think?”

Tang Ling: “…”

*

Thanks to the AI Engine, Reincarnation finally wrapped up production before summer and entered the promotional phase.

Jin Shiheng kept a close eye on developments, and as soon as the promotional material was released, he reported it to Ning Tianyou.

Ning had grown impatient by this point.

“It’s just a costume drama. Did it really have to take this long? We’ve been holding back on our own campaign for ages now—people have practically forgotten about it.”

But when he saw the title, Ning frowned. “Wait, they changed the name?”

Originally, they had picked a similar title for their own project, intending to create confusion and drive negative comparisons. But Gu Xingshi had not only changed the name but chose something entirely unrelated: Reincarnation.

The assistant, though equally puzzled, reasoned, “Maybe they’re trying to ride on the popularity of that recent fantasy drama. Lots of bad productions do that these days—stirring up some initial hype to draw viewers in.”

Ning Tianyou reluctantly accepted this explanation.

With Reincarnation finally set to release, they immediately pushed forward their own launch, flooding the internet with negative posts about Reincarnation. They used the rumors Jin had fed them, and subtly insinuated plagiarism, all while promoting their own series, hoping to divert the audience.

[How terrible must Sheng Yueqing’s new drama be if it was delayed this long?]

[Probably spent ages smoothing out his face frame by frame—he’s all about the looks. Bad acting is fine, but at least keep that face intact!]

[Face-tuning is one thing, but word is that this show is plagiarized…]

[Hahaha, those fans who were so adamant about it—now we can finally rub this in their faces!]

Even popular video reviewers on platforms like Site C were being flooded with requests to roast Reincarnation.

Jiang Jianyue, one of the biggest voices in the entertainment review sector, was naturally invited to cover it. She had heard rumors about Reincarnation’s alleged issues and initially had a poor impression of it. But upon seeing that Gu Xingshi was one of the producers, she hesitated.

She still remembered her own transformation from dismissing Secrets of the Six Gates to becoming an avid fan of it. And she’d watched the Golden Lily Awards ceremony where almost every member of the Six Gates production team thanked Gu Xingshi—his influence had clearly contributed to the series’ success.

Furthermore, anyone in the industry knew how fiercely Gu Xingshi protected his artists’ reputations. Countless celebrities and companies who had tried to smear his artists had found themselves mysteriously shut down by “#10086.”

Although Gu Xingshi never openly spoke about it, anyone familiar with his artists’ career trajectories could tell that their progress was well-thought-out, with no signs of shallow or cash-grabbing shortcuts.

Would such a meticulous manager really compromise his artist’s image just to make money or elevate them through a shoddy production?

After careful consideration, Jiang Jianyue declined the invitation to critique the show prematurely. She decided to wait and see how Reincarnation turned out.

Fortunately, Reincarnation’s promotional push was swift, and soon the trailer was released.

Jiang Jianyue clicked on it the moment it dropped.

Contrary to her expectations of a flamboyant costume comedy, the color palette was dark and somber.

The camera focused on a man’s back as he stumbled through ruins, staggering forward. Though his face wasn’t visible, his pained movements conveyed that he was severely injured, clutching his stomach, each shaky step threatening to send him collapsing to the ground.

Without knowing who he was, Jiang Jianyue felt a pang of empathy, her heart gripped by his struggle, any initial doubts fading away.

As the man finally collapsed, a fierce wind swept through the background. The shot zoomed out, revealing that the scene was playing on a single monitor, which was then pulled back further to show dozens, then hundreds of monitors, until they arranged themselves into the characters Reincarnation.

The opening sequence alone had a cinematic quality that was leagues above most online dramas.

Surprised, Jiang Jianyue found herself captivated by the trailer, even though she still didn’t know what the story was about.

Just then, a deep male voice sounded in her headphones.

“My name is Lin Zheng, 42 years old. This is my thirteenth day in the Reincarnation world…”

Jiang Jianyue’s brow furrowed.

The voice sounded strangely familiar.

Before she could place it, the screen shifted, revealing a man lying in the bed of a pickup truck, eyes slowly opening.

The moment he did, Jiang Jianyue sprang from her seat, shouting in astonishment, “Miao Yaming!!!”

It was Miao Yaming!

He might not be familiar to younger audiences, but as a seasoned film and TV reviewer, Jiang Jianyue could never mistake that face!

This was her childhood idol! It was Miao Yaming’s drama back in the day that sparked Jiang Jianyue’s love for film and television, ultimately leading her to become a film reviewer in the entertainment community.

But… wasn’t Miao Yaming retired? He’d left the industry ages ago!

Jiang Jianyue wasn’t the only one stunned. The flood of skeptical netizens, initially eager to judge the series, found themselves equally blindsided.

Before long, hashtags like #MiaoYamingReincarnation and #MiaoYamingReturnsToActing shot to the top of the trending list.

[This is insane! Uncle Miao is back on screen! What year is this, 4202?!]

[OMG, my idol! Uncle Miao looks even more dashing at forty, and his acting is just as phenomenal as ever! He’s barely aged a day!]

[I used to watch Miao Yaming’s shows with my mom. As soon as she found out he was acting again, she stopped her square dancing, bought Sweet Orange’s VIP membership, and is planning to watch it on TV!]

[It’s not just Uncle Miao! Did anyone else catch a glimpse of Yuan Qingqing and Yu Bao’er? This is a dream for us HK film fans! And Yu Bao’er’s back playing Miao Yaming’s wife? CP shippers are living their best life right now!]

[Aaaah, Sheng Yueqing with black hair is so handsome! He only had one scene in the trailer, but he held his own opposite Uncle Miao—can’t wait to see more!]

[With a cast like this, who else could possibly top it this summer?!]

[Is no one talking about the storyline? The concept looks fresh and intriguing!]

[Why is there only a trailer?! Sweet Orange Video, you’d better release the full episodes soon, or I’ll be on my knees begging!]

Within just two hours that evening, Reincarnation became the most anticipated online series on Sweet Orange Video.

Not one to leave fans hanging, Sweet Orange promptly announced it would release the show a week early, with four episodes dropping on the first day.

This announcement garnered instant praise, and with new promotional clips being released regularly, excitement continued to build.

Seizing the moment, Gu Xingshi also shared behind-the-scenes footage of Sheng Yueqing learning from the director and veteran actors on set. He clarified once more that Sheng’s role was indeed a supporting character, and that he had spent several months on set to absorb all he could from the more experienced actors.

In turn, the director, Yuan Qingqing, and other senior cast members reposted Gu Xingshi’s video, commending Sheng Yueqing’s hard work and rapid improvement in his acting.

After months of dealing with online criticism, Sheng Yueqing’s fans finally had their moment to shine.

[Aaaah, Qing really has been working so hard!]

[I usually dislike the whole “hard-working” trope in entertainment, but this time, I really want to applaud both Qing and President Gu. At the height of his popularity, Sheng Yueqing was willing to step down and play a supporting role, staying on set to study diligently. Just for the courage alone, not many young stars could pull that off.]

[Lol, some people complained that playing a supporting role would hurt his reputation. Please, look at who he’s supporting! With a lineup like Uncle Miao, Qingqing, and Fu Ya… anyone would be thrilled to play a minor role in a cast like this and brag about it for years!]

After being alerted by Sheng Yueqing’s fans, netizens started to notice the earlier negative posts from gossip accounts. Clicking into them, they were instantly infuriated.

Just look at the nonsense they were spouting!

Furious and unable to watch Reincarnation immediately, netizens redirected their frustrations toward these gossip accounts.

[Calling this cast low-tier in acting? If that’s true, then no drama in the industry is watchable!]

[Hilarious! They said President Gu refused to cast veteran actors in supporting roles just to prop up Sheng Yueqing. Well, he did refuse… by making them the leads! Hahaha]

[Technically, they weren’t wrong. How could we call Uncle Miao… no, Brother Miao a “veteran actor”? He’s still in his prime at forty!]

[And plagiarism? They claimed it was copying some costume comedy? Those accusations don’t even match up—it’s like they made it up in their dreams.]

[This is odd. The show hasn’t even aired yet, and all these rumors have come out of nowhere. Could someone be deliberately trying to sabotage it?]

[I think so too. All these so-called “insiders” are wrong, but oddly enough, their claims do resemble that costume drama. I wonder why? ]

*

While the online commentary turned increasingly humorous, Ning Tianyou was beside himself with rage.

“What’s going on? Didn’t Jin Shiheng say they were filming that costume comedy? How did it turn into this? And how did Miao Yaming get involved?”

His assistant was just as baffled. He’d been the one coordinating with Jin, and all the information Jin provided was wrong, entirely misleading them.

Ning’s expression darkened. “I see. No wonder that kid agreed so easily to be a mole and was so eager to feed us intel—he was Gu Xingshi’s man from the start, deliberately feeding us fake info!”

Imagining Gu Xingshi smirking at him, fully aware of the trap Ning had fallen into, made Ning’s blood boil. He quickly ordered his assistant to punish Jin Shiheng, and then sneered, “Double down on the bot campaign. Tie our series to Reincarnation.”

“Push it more?” The assistant hesitated, nervous. “Sir, our ratings are already falling… if this backfires—”

Ning cut him off coldly, “If we don’t push it, the ratings will drop anyway! It’s already like this, so we might as well go all-in. If Reincarnation does blow up, it’ll pull us up with it.”

“Does Gu Xingshi think he can shake us off? Not a chance—I’ll make sure we stick like glue and ruin his day.”

As Ning had anticipated, the blatant tie-in strategy drew complaints from Reincarnation’s fans, but their complaints only increased the chatter, pushing both shows onto trending lists repeatedly.

Smug with his strategy, Ning was reveling in his perceived victory when his assistant rushed in, pale-faced, with devastating news: “Sir, they’re saying online that our show is… plagiarized.”

Ning’s eyes widened. “Plagiarized? Us?”

The assistant’s face fell. “Yes. Apparently, the screenwriter plagiarized a web novel author, and President Gu has hired a lawyer to represent the author. They’re suing the screenwriter… and they’ve included our company in the lawsuit.”

Ning erupted in fury, slamming his fist onto the desk. “Nonsense! This is Gu Xingshi framing me!”

But the bad news didn’t stop there.

First, the plagiarism allegations gained massive traction, with side-by-side comparisons showing scenes and dialogue that were nearly identical to the novel. As a result, the show was temporarily removed for investigation, and with mounting evidence, the “temporary” removal was likely to become permanent.

This was a severe blow to Ning, especially with the shareholders who had already been unhappy with him. Now, they refused to give him any support at all.

At this opportune moment, Ning Wenzhuo seized the chance to convene another shareholder meeting, successfully stripping Ning Tianyou of his position.

As the meeting ended, Ning Tianyou, now ousted and isolated, glared venomously at Ning Wenzhuo. “Fine, just you wait.”

But Ning Wenzhuo remained unfazed, responding coolly, “Revenge? I’m afraid that’s no longer possible.”

With that, the doors to the meeting room opened, and several police officers entered. “Mr. Ning Tianyou? You are under investigation for the alleged orchestrated murder of Ning Tianzuo and his wife. Please come with us for questioning.”

In utter disbelief, Ning Tianyou’s eyes darted to Ning Wenzhuo.

This was impossible! He had covered his tracks so thoroughly—no one could have known!

Or… could it have been…

The thought of Gu Xingshi’s mysterious #10086 ally sent a wave of terror across Ning Tianyou’s face. If only he hadn’t provoked Gu Xingshi in the first place!

*

Meanwhile, Reincarnation was a major hit. The plot, characters, and set design were passionately discussed across social media.

While audiences focused on the show itself, industry leaders were more intrigued by the production process behind it.

By now, everyone knew Reincarnation was a test project by the Film Hub, and the high efficiency and quality it demonstrated had captivated the industry. The Film Hub’s reputation skyrocketed, and companies were eager to collaborate.

As the primary beneficiary of this success, Wen Yue had been in high spirits lately.

Of course, he hadn’t forgotten who was responsible for making it all happen.

With this latest collaboration, Wen Yue’s respect for Gu Xingshi’s talent and capability had grown considerably. Given Gu Xingshi’s professionalism and character, Wen Yue felt it was time to explore a deeper partnership.

He called Tang Ling over. “Book a restaurant for tonight. I want to take President Gu out for dinner.”

Tang Ling hesitated slightly. “President Wen… tonight?”

Wen Yue, distracted as he took another call, didn’t catch the odd tone in Tang Ling’s voice and simply nodded.

That evening, Wen Yue arrived at the restaurant.

To his surprise, it wasn’t the usual business-style venue that Tang Ling had reserved but rather a sky-high revolving restaurant.

A slight frown formed on Wen Yue’s face, but he trusted Tang Ling’s judgment and followed the host to a private room on the top floor.

The moment he entered and saw the decor, his pupils contracted.

The room was filled with roses, the city skyline glittered through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls, and neon lights cast a dreamy glow across the space. A violinist in formal attire played a soft, romantic melody nearby.

The entire room radiated with an unmistakable atmosphere of romance.

Wen Yue: “!”

I was just trying to have a business dinner, what the hell is this!!

Tang Ling, are you crazy?!