After Spectating Gossip, the Entertainment Industry Thinks I’m a Big Shot – CH61

Chapter 61

Pei Zhuozhi returned to the company with Gu Xingshi, finally relaxing once the contract was signed.

Next, Gu introduced him to the other core team members: screenwriters Chun Yan, Lin Yuan, and Yu Youxia, along with the lead actor, Qin Wen.

Qin Wen arrived a bit late, only to see Pei Zhuozhi lounging in a chair, hands in his pockets, head lowered with an expressionless face, a slim women’s cigarette dangling from his lips, giving off a vibe that screamed “keep away.”

Meanwhile, Chun Yan and the others were huddled together, seated as far from Pei as possible.

Qin Wen felt a pang of concern. He knew this team had been assembled by Gu specifically for him, but tension among the main creative team could spell trouble.

He tried to lighten the mood, but his attempts fell flat. Silently, he wished for Gu Xingshi to arrive soon.

As if in answer to his prayers, Gu walked in a moment later.

“Oh, everyone’s here!” Gu put down his things. “Let’s kick things off with a quick meeting.”

Qin Wen looked at him in surprise. With such an awkward atmosphere, shouldn’t he start with a little icebreaker?

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, Gu reached into his bag and handed a package to Chun Yan. “This is the medal from that ghost village bravery competition you entered. I heard you set the highest score ever in the competition, but you disappeared right after, so they had to mail the medal here to the office…”

Everyone turned to Chun Yan in shock, even Pei opened his eyes.

Blushing, Chun Yan took the package shyly. “Thank you, President Gu. Sorry for causing trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” Gu replied with a smile. “Actually, I looked into it and found it pretty interesting. There’s a scene in our script set in a deserted mountain village. I think we could use the ghost village as a filming location…”

Chun Yan’s face lit up with excitement. “Really?! I didn’t expect you to think so too, President Gu!”

Pei didn’t say anything, but the cigarette in his mouth had snapped at some point, and he was now sitting upright. Trying to appear calm, he said, “I think we could avoid using a real location for that. Based on the story, it would work better as…”

Normally, Chun Yan would have backed down after being challenged, but encouraged by Gu’s supportive smile, she mustered the courage to counter, “Actually, for this part of the story…”

With the back-and-forth, the initial distance between them quickly dissolved.

Qin Wen was astonished by how seamlessly Gu had defused the tension, but Gu just looked calm and composed, as if everything was going according to plan.

In fact, Gu was gossiping with the system: [So Pei Zhuozhi really is afraid of ghosts! That’s such a contrast to his filming style!]

As Pei and Chun Yan continued discussing, they recognized each other’s talents, forming a mutual respect.

Pei was thoroughly satisfied. With reliable screenwriters and a talented lead actor, his excitement for the project was growing.

With this in mind, he looked to Gu expectantly. “President Gu, can I assemble my own production team?”

Gu’s smile became strained as he remembered the system’s warning about Pei’s previous team, each member riddled with various problems.

Patting Pei’s shoulder kindly, he said, “Pei, don’t worry about that. Leave the team-building to me. You focus on preparing for the shoot.”

Though slightly disappointed, Pei reconsidered. With such capable writers and actors, Gu’s judgment in people was clearly stronger than his own, so he agreed with a nod. “And the funding… when will that be in place?”

Gu hesitated, feeling a bit guilty.

After all, with the popularity of his past projects, investors were eager to work with him. But strangely enough, every interested investor so far had some kind of issue that didn’t sit right with him, so he’d turned them all down.

Gu patted Pei’s shoulder a little harder than before. “Just trust me on this—focus on directing, and leave these external matters to me.”

Pei: “???”

*

With plans to disentangle from Wen Corp, Gu wanted to establish an in-house production team for the company to avoid future dependencies.

After much effort, he finally managed to assemble a complete and competent team.

Word of this soon reached Sun Hongfei.

Ever since realizing that Gu and Wen seemed to be in a “cold war,” Sun had been tirelessly working to bring them back together. This included, but was not limited to, constantly mentioning one to the other and arranging as many “coincidental” encounters as possible.

He even convinced Tang Ling to join him in safeguarding the “relationship” between President Gu and President Wen.

Previously, Sun Hongfei had heard that Meng Yuansheng and the others were planning a birthday party for Gu Xingshi, so he’d “helpfully” suggested a certain private dining restaurant—conveniently the same place where Wen Yue happened to be having dinner that night.

In Sun’s view, a birthday was a special occasion. Surely, it would ease the tension between them and maybe even end the cold war. Perhaps they’d reconcile then and there.

Afterward, Tang Ling informed Sun that, indeed, when Wen Yue ran into Gu, Gu didn’t avoid him—in fact, he even greeted him. Wen Yue, in turn, wished Gu a happy birthday, and the next day even sent over a belated birthday gift.

Hearing this, Sun felt triumphant.

But his joy was short-lived. Just two days later, he learned that Gu had signed on a team of screenwriters and was establishing his own production team.

Now, with a complete creative team in place, he was actively seeking outside investment!

Sun panicked.

This cold war was turning serious!

Building an in-house team made sense, as most companies did the same. But avoiding Wen Corp entirely for funding? That was alarming!

Could it be that, far from reconciling after the birthday, something had caused an even bigger rift between them?

Sun began to suspect that Gu might truly want to distance himself from Wen.

Realizing he couldn’t just sit around, he went digging for information.

To his surprise, he discovered that although several companies had proactively offered to invest, Gu had turned down every single one.

And what did that mean?

It meant that Gu had no intention of finding outside investors. This was a game of hard-to-get!

Gu’s show of seeking investment was purely for Wen Yue’s benefit, intended to create a sense of urgency.

The plan suddenly became clear to Sun.

He had to admit—it was a clever move.

So, Gu still cared about Wen but couldn’t bring himself to reach out first. All Wen Yue needed to do was take the hint, and they’d be back to normal.

Relieved, Sun called Wen Yue under the pretense of reporting work.

He casually remarked, “President Wen, I heard President Gu has set up his own creative team and is now looking for investors.”

At the mention of Gu Xingshi’s name, Wen Yue’s expression froze.

Lately, he’d noticed something strange—though he and Gu had only met a few times, Gu seemed to pop into his mind without reason.

One night, he even dreamed of being in that rooftop restaurant, with Gu leaning close. That narrow waist was just within reach, and as if under a spell, Wen Yue’s hand moved to cover it.

His broad hand nearly encircled Gu’s waist, the warmth seeping through Gu’s shirt, seeming to scorch right into his chest.

In that instant, it was as if a beast within him had awakened, shredding his usual mask of composure, pinning the beautiful young man beneath him.

Sharp canines grazed the pale, slender neck, the pulse fluttering beneath, blending the sweetness of cream with the decadence of berries, stirring something primal within him.

Wen Yue had woken with a start.

His heart still pounded, sweat beading at his temples, and he could swear there was a faint lingering scent.

Hidden in the depths of it all, there was a subtle, bittersweet note of fresh orange.

Since that day, Wen Yue had felt… off.

Every morning, his butler would lay out his outfit along with matching cufflinks.

But when he saw the ruby ones, he thought of Gu’s lips, tinted red after a bite of cream cake.

When he saw the cat’s eye stones, he was reminded of Gu’s eyes, both mischievous and clear.

The white jade? Gu’s pale, smooth skin.

*

He retreated from his walk-in closet in disarray, for the first time deciding against wearing cufflinks altogether.

Wen Yue’s parents had married as part of a business arrangement, devoid of affection. After his birth, they treated it as a completed duty and went their separate ways, unashamedly displaying their affairs before their son.

He’d often seen his father with different women, flirting openly in public. Wen watched with cold detachment, vowing he’d never become someone ruled by base instincts like his father.

Since childhood, he’d been intelligent, composed, and self-disciplined.

He was ambitious, yet his emotions never swayed him; he remained rational and indifferent. By a young age, he had already taken control of the Wen family, putting his uncles and aunts firmly in their place.

He was aware of the whispers behind his back, calling him a heartless “robot,” but he paid no mind.

Rationality was his standard.

He would never, ever submit to desire.

But now, his tightly held logic was on the verge of unraveling.

It felt as if his standard of self-control could shatter at any moment.

Darkness flickered in his gaze as he replied coolly, “Is that so?”

Sun Hongfei froze, sensing something was off in Wen’s reaction.

Still, he pressed on, “Actually, quite a few investors have approached President Gu, but he’s refused all of them…”

He couldn’t be any clearer. Surely President Wen would get the hint?

But Wen remained unfazed. “Anything else?”

Sun was stunned, “!!”

He wanted to say more, but Wen had already hung up.

Holding his phone, Wen closed his eyes, attempting to rein in his thoughts.

Rationality whipped against the beast within, forcing it to retreat.

He could feel his pulse pounding, the veins standing out on his hand. He could almost hear the rush of blood.

But ultimately, his years of self-control prevailed, and the beast grudgingly retreated back into its cage.

When he opened his eyes, he was once again the cold and formidable master of the Wen family.

Meanwhile, in his office, Sun Hongfei paced nervously, wringing his hands.

This was serious!

He had assumed it was just President Gu throwing a small tantrum, but now it was clear that the problem lay with President Wen.

Gu had already extended an olive branch. He’d taken a step back, practically offering Wen an opportunity to reconcile. But if Wen didn’t respond, Gu was bound to be furious!

At that point, it wouldn’t just be a cold war. Could they actually… break up?

Just as Sun was anxiously contemplating the worst, he heard some surprising news.

Gu Xingshi had somehow connected with none other than Madame Bello, the founder of Bello Capital.

Bello Capital wasn’t exactly a massive firm, but it had been a steady player in the investment world for years, with extensive connections.

Through Madame Bello, President Gu could easily break into the investment circle—but wasn’t this a clear sign that he intended to distance himself from President Wen?

Madame Bello, in fact, brought this up teasingly with Gu Xingshi.

Her real name was Yao Hui. She and her late husband, Conrad Bello, had founded Bello Capital many years ago, and now, in her fifties, she ran the company alone. With her smooth skin and elegant features, she appeared no older than her early thirties.

Gu had met her a few days prior at a social event where he’d helped her with a minor issue. Impressed, she later sought him out herself.

When she learned he was looking for investors, she laughed and said, “Everyone in the investment world knows that President Wen has the sharpest eye and the biggest wallet. With that big fish in your net, how could you still be interested in us little minnows?”

Feeling a bit awkward, Gu couldn’t help complaining to the system: [Didn’t you say only half the industry knew about this rumor?]

System: [Times change! Be glad they’re not spreading wedding rumors by now. Count your blessings, Host!]

Gu: […]

But since Yao Hui hadn’t stated anything directly, Gu felt it best not to offer explanations, lest it seem like he was covering something up. He managed a polite laugh. “You flatter me, Madame Bello.”

Sensing his discomfort, she let the matter drop. “I can introduce you to some contacts, but convincing them will be up to your own skills.”

Gu smiled. “That’s more than enough. Thank you.”

Yao Hui arranged a gathering at an exclusive club on the outskirts of Beijing. It was an enormous establishment, complete with every luxury imaginable.

At the club, personal chauffeurs in golf carts were on hand to drive guests to their respective destinations.

Not knowing if Gu had ever visited places like these, Yao Hui came to greet him herself, fearing he might feel out of place. But upon seeing him, she noted his composed curiosity and easy confidence, entirely free of any nervousness.

This only strengthened her belief in the rumors—he must have been to even grander places with President Wen to be so unfazed.

What she didn’t know was that Gu was happily chatting with the system: [Wow! They even have a riding field here. It reminds me of my old part-time job! I haven’t ridden in ages. Did I ever tell you the person who taught me to ride was a world champion?]

System: [Ah, so it’s a homecoming to your happy place then!]

Yao Hui introduced him to the various attendees. While there were no top-tier capital firms, several significant players were present—just the type of contacts Gu was after.

Once they reached their destination, however, Yao Hui’s expression suddenly shifted. “What is ‘he’ doing here?”

At the same moment, the system chimed in gleefully: [Host, see that man with the scowl? That’s Yu Qiyang, head of Huanyang Capital—one of your sworn enemies.]

Gu Xingshi: [?]

Knowing he wouldn’t remember, the system kindly elaborate: [Remember Jiang Sinian, the influencer who tried to sabotage Qin Wen and Secrets of Six Doors? You countered him so well that he ended up in jail. He was with Southern Media, which is backed by Huanyang Capital.]

[Of course, Jiang Sinian wasn’t the main issue. The real blow was that Wen Yue saw the opportunity and, in sync with your move, went after Southern Media and Huanyang Capital. Yu Qiyang was so busy guarding against your moves that Wen Yue caught him off guard, delivering a crushing blow to his business.]

[Now, after hearing the rumors about you two, Yu Qiyang is convinced that you and Wen Yue teamed up against him, so he resents you both equally.]

Gu Xingshi: […]

He was completely innocent, but it looked like he’d never convince anyone of that!
But turning around and leaving wasn’t an option either.

In a circle like this, where people preyed on weakness, showing any sign of retreat would turn the polite smiles on these faces into predatory grins, ready to tear him apart.

Instead, Gu remained calm, even offering Yao Hui some reassurance. “It’s fine. Since we’re here, we might as well make the best of it.”

Yao Hui, unexpectedly comforted by someone nearly half her age, gave Gu a long, appreciative look. “President Gu, you’ve got real nerve. You remind me a bit of President Wen when he first entered the capital markets.”

Gu Xingshi: “…”

Yao Hui led Gu toward the gathering, exchanging friendly greetings with the guests. They were all seasoned players, initially showing up out of respect for Yao Hui and to meet the well-regarded President Gu. But ever since Yu Qiyang arrived, the atmosphere had shifted; everyone’s attention was now focused on Yu, awaiting his next move.

Yao Hui’s smile faltered momentarily before she regained her composure and greeted him, “President Yu, it’s such a surprise to see you here. I’m afraid we’re unprepared for your visit, but let me host you properly next time.”

Her words subtly hinted that Yu had shown up uninvited while also reminding him that this was her event and asking him to respect her position.

Yu replied in his usual evasive tone, “Why wait for next time? It must be fate that brought us together today. Surely you wouldn’t want me to leave?”

Their conversation, full of subtle jabs and implied meanings, was a new experience for Gu, who couldn’t resist murmuring to the system: [Is this kind of wordplay necessary in this circle?]

System: [Not necessarily—if your power is strong enough, you can afford to offend people openly. For instance—]

But before the system could finish, Yu Qiyang turned his attention to Gu with a thinly veiled sneer. “President Gu, I’m grateful for the ‘lesson’ you and President Wen taught me back then. Now that you’re trying to enter our circle, shouldn’t you learn some of our rules first?”

After learning that Madame Bello was arranging an event for Gu, Sun Hongfei had sensed trouble brewing. He pulled some strings to get himself into the club, only to find Gu being cornered by Yu Qiyang upon arrival.

Panicked, he immediately called Tang Ling, urging him to inform President Wen of the situation.

Tang Ling hesitated.

At that moment, he was on a private jet back to the country with Wen Yue, who had just concluded a grueling negotiation. Wen had hardly slept in days and had just fallen asleep.

Tang Ling hesitated, torn between his duty to inform Wen Yue and the risk of disturbing him.

But Wen had already woken up, glancing at him with a keen gaze. “Whose call was that?”

Seeing that he was already alert, Tang Ling recounted Sun Hongfei’s message in full.

“Yu Qiyang!!” Wen’s face darkened. “How long until we land?”

Tang Ling immediately checked. “Thirty minutes.”

Wen spoke faster, his voice clipped. “Prepare a car. We’re heading there as soon as we land.”

Tang Ling nodded. “Understood.”

Wen gazed out the window at the passing clouds, fingers unconsciously clenching.

He knew Yu Qiyang’s vindictive nature—unable to act directly against Wen, he would go after softer targets. His presence at the club was a clear setup to humiliate Gu Xingshi, likely with even worse tricks waiting in store.

A tightness gripped Wen’s chest.

Although he told himself he was only going to help because Gu had been drawn into this mess unfairly, he couldn’t ignore the deeper, personal worry tugging at him.

*

Gu Xingshi knew Yu Qiyang intended to exact revenge, so he was mentally prepared to deal with whatever tricks he had planned. But when Yu led them to the stables, Gu’s expression turned slightly odd.

Seeing Gu look down, Yu mistook it for fear and smirked. “President Gu, let’s have a little competition. If you win, I’ll let bygones be bygones. But if you lose, you’ll agree to one request from me. What do you say?”

This was Yu’s carefully crafted plan to humiliate Gu.

After all, with Yao Hui introducing him and Wen Yue’s influence in the background, any overt action could backfire. But a competitive “friendly wager” was common in their circles. If Gu refused, he’d be seen as rejecting the unspoken rules of the investment world, essentially closing doors for himself.

And if he agreed…

Yu had done his research. Gu was a virtual unknown from a company on the brink of bankruptcy—had it not been for his connection to Wen Yue, he wouldn’t be where he was today.

Horseback riding was an elegant yet costly sport. Gu had likely never even been near a stable.

Yu imagined Gu embarrassing himself on the horse or, if he were lucky, even falling and breaking a bone or two. He could hardly be blamed for that, could he?

Murmurs filled the crowd.

Yao Hui frowned. “President Yu, isn’t this a bit extreme? Horseback riding is risky. If President Gu…”

Yu waved her off. “This is between President Gu and me.” Turning back to Gu, he taunted, “Unless, of course, President Gu is afraid?”

“Not at all,” Gu replied, lifting his head slowly, a smirk playing on his lips. “But it does seem unfair. Why should I only get a clean slate if I win, while you get a whole favor if you do? Still, I’ll humor you. I’ve always been one to respect my elders.”

Yu’s face darkened. “Sharp tongue, aren’t you?”

Gu smiled innocently. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Fuming inside, Yu clenched his jaw. Go on and talk big while you can. Just wait until you’re on the horse and see if you’re still smiling.

Both men went to change into riding attire and select their horses.

When Gu Xingshi emerged in his black-and-white riding outfit, the fitted attire accentuated his slim waist and long legs, with the snug pants highlighting the defined, powerful muscles in his thighs.

A few onlookers couldn’t help but murmur in admiration.

Yu Qiyang shot him a vicious glare but then noticed the horse Gu was leading. He couldn’t stifle a mocking laugh. “President Gu, that horse has quite the temper. For safety’s sake, I’d suggest you pick another.”

Gu Xingshi gently stroked the horse’s neck, his eyes gleaming with pure delight.

Wow… not only do I get to ride, but such a beautiful horse too. This is incredible!

When Gu didn’t respond, Yu’s expression soured further. Muttering a curse under his breath, he mounted his own horse and shot Gu a disdainful look from above.

He’d planned to mock him if he struggled to get on, only to watch as Gu smoothly placed his foot in the stirrup and swung himself onto the saddle with practiced ease.

Applause and whistles erupted from the crowd.

Panic crept into Yu Qiyang’s mind, though he tried to reassure himself. Maybe he just knows how to get on a horse. His actors probably learn this stuff for period dramas, so he might have picked up a few tricks from them.

But Yu was different. As a riding enthusiast with amateur competition awards under his belt, he was confident he’d be leagues ahead.

At the referee’s signal, Yu charged forward. Yet, not even a full lap into the course, a black-and-white figure streaked past him.

Gu Xingshi leaned forward over his horse, holding the reins firmly as he flew by like an arrow.

Yu Qiyang: “!!!”

Impossible!

But Gu paid him no mind. After warming up for a lap, he had synced with his horse’s rhythm and now let loose, savoring the thrill of galloping full speed.

Meanwhile, Wen Yue’s plane had just landed.

Forgoing a driver, he got into his sports car himself and sped towards the club, his tires screeching as he shaved nearly half an hour off the usual travel time. Upon arriving, the staff, already alerted by Tang Ling, swung the gates open without delay.

Without slowing, Wen roared through the grounds, aiming straight for the stables.

By then, Gu Xingshi was already on his final lap. Despite Yu Qiyang’s frantic efforts, he was still a full lap behind.

But as Gu’s horse passed by, Yu’s gaze turned cold, and in a feigned slip, he tossed his riding crop toward Gu.

The horse reared up, startled, whinnying and kicking its forelegs into the air.

Wen Yue arrived just in time to witness this, his eyes blazing with fury.

But in the next second, he saw Gu clamp his legs tightly around the horse’s sides, leaning back while gripping the reins, his voice soothing as he guided the horse’s head.

Gu’s hands maneuvered the reins expertly, his knuckles faintly white from the strain, his thigh muscles tensing and flexing in sync with the horse’s movements.

Yet, on his beautiful face, there was nothing but calm resolve, not a trace of panic.

The horse, wild with instinct, thrashed in a frenzy, trying to buck him off—its movements chaotic, impulsive, and aggressive.

No matter how wildly the horse bucked, it couldn’t shake off Gu Xingshi’s control. Exhausted at last, it relented, submitting beneath his firm grip.

The spectators let out a collective sigh of relief. They assumed he would dismount and rest, but instead, Gu urged the reins forward again, charging toward the finish line.

As he crossed it, a look of pure, contented joy lit up his face.

His command over the horse had been powerful and agile, yet his smile was innocent and genuine.

This stark contrast struck Wen Yue with a force that nearly made his heart stop.

A surge of electricity jolted up his spine to his head, rendering him momentarily breathless.

The beast within him roared, breaking through the fragile walls of restraint, and desire flooded in its wake.

His gaze, usually so detached, now burned hot like molten lava, fixating unwaveringly on the man atop the horse.

Gu had tamed the horse—and in doing so, he had tamed Wen as well.