After Spectating Gossip, the Entertainment Industry Thinks I’m a Big Shot – CH65

Chapter 65

With Gu Xingshi’s new approach, the filming progress over the next few weeks was excellent.

As the director, Pei Zhuozhi felt both pained and exhilarated every day.

Now, when dealing with Bu Qianwei, he had to be extra cautious. He didn’t dare to casually shout “3-2-1” or “Action,” fearing she might suddenly “transform” on set.

But aside from this minor inconvenience, the filming results were outstanding.

Initially, Pei Zhuozhi had planned to rely on special effects for certain scenes. However, after watching Bu Qianwei’s raw performance, he gave up on the idea.

When an actor’s performance reaches such an uncanny level of realism, any special effects would just feel superfluous.

With filming halfway complete, Gu Xingshi began searching for a publicity team to prepare for the movie’s eventual promotion.

Once again, he left the set and returned to Beijing.

But finding a promotion team, while seemingly straightforward, was a task fraught with frustrating twists and turns.

For a film’s production company, the ideal scenario is a guaranteed release. This means that the distribution company commits to a minimum box office return for the producers. If the box office falls short of the guaranteed amount, the distributor absorbs the loss, and only if it surpasses the threshold do they share in the revenue and cover promotion costs.

For producers, it’s a safe bet. For distributors, however, it’s a high-stakes gamble.

Only highly coveted films from prominent directors receive such terms.

Gu Xingshi could only watch enviously from afar.

After all, their movie had a modest budget, was a horror film, and both the director and screenwriter were newcomers. The big distribution companies wouldn’t even consider them.

He had no choice but to go with a regular distribution team, where they would pay an agent fee for them to handle the promotion.

But since these agencies varied greatly in quality, Gu spent several days without finding a suitable one.

So, he decided to put that task on hold and focus on other responsibilities.

Such as accompanying Meng Yuansheng and Cheng Xin to a charity gala.

These types of charity galas were prime opportunities for expanding one’s network.

Holding a glass of champagne, Gu Xingshi moved smoothly through the crowd, chatting here and there, until he overheard someone mention Wen Yue’s arrival.

A murmur swept through the crowd.

One guest who had just returned from abroad was astonished. “Mr. Wen? I heard he usually avoids these types of events?”

The person next to him nudged him with an elbow. “You’re so out of date. It’s different now…mostly because President Gu is here…”

“What?! Tell me everything!”

“Well, you see…blah blah…”

Gu Xingshi, listening nearby: “…”

People always say that rumors last no more than three days before fading. So why was this one so… resilient?!

Annoyed, he glanced over to see Meng Yuansheng and Cheng Xin both suddenly looking serious.

They exchanged a glance, and Cheng Xin quickly stepped forward, grabbing Gu Xingshi’s arm. “President Gu!”

Gu Xingshi nearly jumped in surprise. “What’s the matter?”

Cheng Xin knew his task was to get Gu Xingshi away, but in his haste, he couldn’t come up with a good excuse. Thinking fast, he stammered, “I…I need to go to the restroom!”

Gu Xingshi looked at him, puzzled. “Then go. I’m not stopping you.”

Cheng Xin hesitated. “Well…I was hoping you’d go with me.”

Gu Xingshi: “?”

Under Gu Xingshi’s skeptical gaze, Meng Yuansheng calmly added a “logical” (and completely fabricated) explanation: “President Gu, you know how many people A-Xin’s mouth has offended. Once, he even got locked in a restroom. I think it’d be safer if you went with him this time.”

Gu Xingshi: “…”

Cheng Xin: “…”

Gu Xingshi looked at Cheng Xin with concern. “Is that true?”

Cheng Xin, noticing Meng Yuansheng’s pointed look, could only swallow his pride and nod. “Yes.”

Gu Xingshi sighed. “I’ve told you before to change that habit. Getting locked in a restroom is bad enough, but what if they put you in a sack and beat you up next time?”

Cheng Xin: “…”

Silently, he added another tally to his mental list of grievances against Wen Yue.

But in the end, Gu Xingshi accompanied him to the restroom.

As soon as they left, Wen Yue entered, surrounded by a crowd.

His gaze scanned the room, but he didn’t spot Gu Xingshi.

A flicker of disappointment crossed his eyes.

Since that day at the stables, he hadn’t seen Gu Xingshi. Every time he’d found an opportunity to meet him, fate seemed to conspire against them, keeping them apart.

Wen Yue had initially thought that Gu Xingshi might be avoiding him, but on WeChat, Gu acted as normal as ever, with no change in their usual conversations.

Until, during his last visit to the set, Wen Yue finally found a chance to say a few words to Gu Xingshi—only for Qin Wen to appear suddenly, interrupt the conversation, and whisk Gu away.

That was when Wen Yue sensed something was off.

After testing his theory a second time, he finally realized what was happening: someone was actively keeping him and Gu Xingshi apart. And that someone was Gu’s own artists.

Correction—by now, it wasn’t just the four of them. Practically everyone at LeShi seemed to be blocking their path.

Wen Yue almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

Though he was irritated, out of respect for Gu, he couldn’t bring himself to retaliate against them.

But Wen Yue wasn’t one to sit back and do nothing. Now that he understood the reason, he naturally had a way to resolve it.

He walked directly over to Meng Yuansheng.

Meng Yuansheng was momentarily surprised, but quickly put on a polite smile. “President Wen.”

Wen Yue’s expression was calm, but he cut straight to the chase. “Where did you hide President Gu this time?”

Meng Yuansheng hadn’t expected such bluntness and tried to deflect the question with feigned ignorance.

However, Wen Yue wasn’t about to let him dodge. His imposing aura was overwhelming, and it only took a few pointed questions before Meng Yuansheng’s facade crumbled.

“The restroom?” Wen Yue’s lips curved in a barely visible smile as he seemed to recall something. “Hiding spots are definitely a shared specialty between you all and your President Gu.”

With that, he turned and made his way toward the restroom.

Meng Yuansheng broke into a cold sweat, his expression grim.

Over the years, he’d dealt with all sorts of people in the entertainment industry. The past two years in particular had been full of encounters with powerful figures, and he’d handled them all skillfully.

He had thought he’d be able to handle Wen Yue as well, but Wen’s mere gaze had left him utterly defeated.

No wonder even someone as strong as President Gu had been so deeply affected by him.

Determined to protect Gu Xingshi, Meng Yuansheng’s resolve grew even stronger.

Meanwhile, in the restroom, Cheng Xin was squatting in one of the stalls, looking miserable.

Outside the restroom, Gu Xingshi called out in exasperation, “A-Xin, are you done yet?”

Cheng Xin replied hesitantly, “Um…I think I might have a bit of a stomach issue…”

Gu Xingshi: “…”

But he could only continue to wait outside, arms crossed.

Just as Cheng Xin sighed in relief, he saw a message from Meng Yuansheng: Wen Yue is heading to the restroom.

Cheng Xin: “!!!”

The relief he’d just felt vanished, and he dashed out of the stall, grabbing Gu Xingshi to leave immediately.

Gu frowned, “So you’re done with your stomach issue?”

Cheng Xin nodded hastily, “All done!”

Gu Xingshi: “…Alright then.”

He started to head back to the ballroom, but Cheng Xin grabbed him again. “President Gu, how about we take a walk in the garden instead?”

Gu flatly refused, “It’s the dead of winter. The garden is all bare branches—what’s there to see? Not going.”

Cheng Xin was at a loss for words and forced himself to continue, “It’s just…too crowded in the ballroom. It’s not convenient for a conversation…”

Gu Xingshi looked at him in confusion. “In this setting, aren’t you usually the one who stays quiet? What could you possibly need to discuss?”

Cheng Xin: “…”

Just then, Wen Yue strode over.

Gu Xingshi was a bit surprised. “President Wen?”

Cheng Xin, who had been desperately thinking of excuses, instantly sprang in front of Gu Xingshi like a startled rabbit, placing himself between Gu and Wen. Without thinking, he blurted out, “President Wen, here to personally use the restroom?”

Gu Xingshi: “…”

Wen Yue: “…”

Cheng Xin immediately wished he could sew his own mouth shut, but he soldiered on, “You must be really busy to come handle the restroom personally, so we’ll leave you to it…”

With that, he tried to pull Gu Xingshi away.

But Wen Yue spoke directly to Gu Xingshi, “President Gu, I came specifically to find you. I heard you’re looking for a distribution team?”

Gu Xingshi looked at him in surprise.

Wen Yue continued, “I recently acquired a distribution company. I have high hopes for this film, so perhaps we can discuss it.”

Talk about getting a pillow just when you need one!

Gu Xingshi’s surprise quickly turned to delight.

Setting everything else aside, Wen Yue himself was an investor in this film. If his own distribution company handled it, there was no way he’d swindle his own boss!

Without hesitation, Gu nudged Cheng Xin aside and enthusiastically invited Wen Yue, “That’s fantastic, President Wen! How about we take a walk in the garden? It’s too crowded in the ballroom to discuss details…”

Cheng Xin: “???”

Wen Yue cast a light glance at Cheng Xin and agreed easily, “Sounds good!”

Watching the two leave together, Cheng Xin was so furious he almost snorted out loud.

Arrrghhh!!! Wen Yue, you sly fox!!!

*

The distribution company Wen Yue had acquired was called Yinlu, headed by a man named Yin Yong. After the acquisition by the Wen family’s conglomerate, Yin had been eager to make a name for himself and prove his abilities.

So, when President Wen himself approached him to manage the distribution for a film and even suggested a guaranteed release, his first thought was that this was Wen Yue’s test for him!

Without hesitation, he agreed.

However, when he finally received the film’s details, Yin Yong was dumbfounded.

A low-budget horror film, with a new director, a first-time screenwriter, a rookie male lead, and a lead actress notorious for bad performances.

This was like the ultimate recipe for a flop!

Was this a test?

More like a death sentence!

Yin Yong was nearly tearing his hair out, with no idea where to begin.

But with the contract already signed, he had no choice but to press on, so he started with the first step—creating an initial concept poster based on standard distribution strategy.

To his surprise, the poster turned out to be remarkably impressive.

Especially the one featuring the lead actors.

In a dimly lit background, Qin Wen and Bu Qianwei each showed half of their faces, gazing intently at each other.

The profiles showcased their perfect bone structure, and the intense, story-laden expressions gave the poster a powerful impact.

Yin Yong felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe… it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought.

But once the poster was released to the public, it set off a storm of reactions.

Netizen’s Comment:

Netizen A: [WTF! How desperate must the producers be to cast Bu Qianwei as the lead?]

Netizen B: [LOL, with her acting skills, aren’t they worried she’ll turn the horror movie into a comedy?]

Netizen C: [Watching her on TV is painful enough; I can’t even imagine how much worse it’ll be on the big screen!]

Bu Qianwei’s fans were quick to defend her.

Fan A: [Judging her acting without even watching! Look at how good she looks on the poster—absolutely stunning!!]

Fan B: [She mentioned on Weibo that her acting has improved a lot, and even the director praised her!]

Fan C: [I’m excited after seeing the poster! I’m usually too scared to watch horror movies, but I’ll drag my boyfriend along to support Bu Qianwei!]

Her detractors hit back.

Hater A: [This is the first time I’ve seen someone use a poster to prove they can act. I’m speechless!]

Hater B: [LOL, stop fooling yourself! Telling yourself lies doesn’t make them true!]

Hater C: [That’s typical of her fanbase. Lacking acting skills or professionalism, and the less they have, the more they try to market it. Let’s just say, this movie is doomed!]

For a while, the online debate between her fans and detractors grew heated.

While this did increase attention on the movie, most viewers, except for Bu Qianwei’s fans, expressed that they’d probably just look at the poster rather than go to the theater.

To make matters worse, the annual Golden Broom Awards—an infamous award for poor performances—had just announced Bu Qianwei as a winner for the third year in a row.

The online ridicule intensified.

Netizen D: [Hahaha, three consecutive Golden Broom Awards—only Bu Qianwei could achieve that, right?]

Netizen E: [After seeing the poster, I was curious and thought I might check it out, thinking maybe she’d improved. But now? I’m out. I’m not wasting my money!]

Yin Yong felt like tearing his hair out.

Then he remembered a workplace legend circulating within the group—“When in doubt, find Old Sun.”

Rumor had it that at Tiantang Video, there was a deputy director named Sun, and if you ever faced an impossible problem, you could go to him. If he was willing to offer guidance, not only would the problem be solved, but it might even turn out to be a blessing in disguise, leading to promotions and raises.

Originally, Yin Yong hadn’t believed in such tales, but the legend was so widely spread, with multiple department heads swearing by it, that he couldn’t help but take it seriously.

And after a quick search, he was thrilled to discover that this “Old Sun” was none other than Sun Hongfei, one of the leads for The Ghostly Gate project.

He immediately called Sun Hongfei, who warmed up quickly upon learning that Yin Yong was in charge of distribution.

Yin Yong stammered as he explained his predicament.

After listening, Sun Hongfei replied with a serious tone, “Yin, I think you’ve misunderstood President Wen.”

Yin Yong was all ears. “Director Sun, please enlighten me.”

Sun Hongfei explained, “This isn’t a test from President Wen. He’s handing you a golden opportunity!”

Yin Yong: “…Huh?”

Sun Hongfei continued, “You know who the producer of this film is, right?”

“Yes, it’s President Gu from LeShi,” Yin Yong replied, then added hesitantly, “I’ve heard that he and President Wen…”

“President Gu and President Wen are definitely not broken up!!” Sun Hongfei blurted out, then quickly cleared his throat. “I mean, when it comes to leadership, you can’t just look at the surface. You have to think deeper!”

Yin Yong: “…Uh?”

“Why did President Wen choose to hand the distribution to one of our own teams and even insist on a guaranteed release? Because he knows how capable President Gu is, and he knows this film is going to be fantastic! He doesn’t want to let any of the profits slip to outsiders. As for the guaranteed release…well, that’s because he doesn’t want you to half-ass it and risk botching the distribution for a quality film.”

Sun Hongfei continued with conviction, “President Wen isn’t just some lovesick fool!”

Yin Yong: “…Huh?”

After some thought, Sun Hongfei suggested, “How about this—you come to the set and see for yourself. Seeing is believing, right?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Yin Yong gritted his teeth and agreed.

When his plane landed, Sun Hongfei personally came to pick him up, and after an enthusiastic greeting, they finally got into the car.

But as soon as Yin Yong stepped inside, he was startled by the car’s interior.

Hanging from the rearview mirror was an enormous Bagua (Taoist octagon) symbol, and every inch of the cabin seemed plastered with talismans. As soon as he sat down, he felt something poking him and reached under to pull out a peachwood sword.

Yin Yong forced a laugh. “Director Sun… you didn’t accidentally take out the prop vehicle, did you?”

“Oh, no, no,” Sun Hongfei replied casually as he drove. “This is actually the director’s car.”

Yin Yong: “…?”

They hadn’t even reached the set, and already, Yin Yong was feeling an ominous sense of foreboding.

Sun Hongfei drove him all the way to Ghost Village.

The place was a decaying, eerie settlement with overgrown paths exuding an unsettling atmosphere.

Even from behind the car window, Yin Yong felt a chill, but soon his professional instincts kicked in, and he said excitedly, “This location is fantastic! Just this setting alone is scary enough. We can definitely leverage this in the marketing.”

“No rush.” Sun Hongfei gave him a knowing smile. “The scariest part of our crew—you haven’t even seen yet!”

Yin Yong: “…”

For a split second, Sun Hongfei’s smile looked almost sinister, and Yin Yong couldn’t help shivering.

After they got out of the car, Sun Hongfei led him to meet the director, Pei Zhuozhi.

“Director Pei, what scene are you filming today?” Sun Hongfei asked as if this were his regular routine.

Pei Zhuozhi looked up, his face pale and weary under his cap. “We’re filming the scene where the female lead tries to kill the male lead.”

Sun Hongfei’s eyes lit up. “Perfect timing.”

As he spoke, Bu Qianwei and Qin Wen, both in costume, walked over.

Yin Yong had already seen them during the poster shoot. Both were undeniably attractive, and despite their tattered costumes and bruised makeup, their faces still seemed to shine against the backdrop of the dark set.

While Yin Yong admired the striking looks of the two stars, Pei Zhuozhi, in a flash, pulled out a cloak covered with talismans from under his chair and wrapped it tightly around himself.

The rest of the crew began pulling out various protective items—crosses, jade Guanyin pendants, garlic (?!), and more.

Even Sun Hongfei clasped a Buddha statue, mumbling prayers under his breath.

Yin Yong: “?”

Meanwhile, Bu Qianwei and Qin Wen took their places to begin filming.

After a brief setup, Pei Zhuozhi raised his hand, “3-2-1, action!”

Yin Yong: “??”

Wait a second!

Are they really jumping straight into filming? No rehearsals?

But his thoughts were abruptly cut off as he saw Bu Qianwei’s body twist into an unnatural shape. A guttural, otherworldly sound came from her throat, and her fingers bent in impossible directions, as if each one was controlled by a different, malevolent force.

Yin Yong: “!!!!”

What kind of nightmare is this?!

The scene lasted only five minutes, but for Yin Yong, those five minutes were a total blank.

Who am I? Where am I? What am I doing here?

As soon as the last shot wrapped up, Pei Zhuozhi leapt to his feet. “Cut, cut, cut! Stop!”

It was like a spell had been broken. Bu Qianwei instantly returned to her usual self, then bounced over to them, full of energy. “Director Pei, how was my performance today? I just had a new idea—I think I could try it again…”

“Whatever you say…” Pei Zhuozhi muttered, clutching his talisman-clad cloak even tighter around himself.

Bu Qianwei’s gaze fell on Yin Yong. “And you are…?”

Yin Yong reflexively took three big steps back, then realized he might’ve been a bit rude.

A beauty like Bu Qianwei shouldn’t be treated with such fear. She’d probably be furious at the disrespect…

As he started to think about how to apologize, Bu Qianwei surprised him by beaming at him. “Do you think my performance was good, too?”

“Uh?” Yin Yong was briefly stunned but then nodded quickly. “It was amazing!!”

Bu Qianwei, pleased, skipped off happily.

Meanwhile, Yin Yong was utterly shaken.

For someone as breathtakingly beautiful as her to throw herself into a horror role like this, totally unafraid to sacrifice her image—if that isn’t dedication, if that isn’t acting talent, then what is?!

Remembering the online comments criticizing Bu Qianwei, Yin Yong couldn’t help but feel indignant on her behalf.

Sun Hongfei, who had been watching him with a smile, asked, “So? Was I wrong?”

Yin Yong nodded emphatically, brimming with confidence. “Director Sun, don’t worry! I know exactly how to handle the publicity now!”

Returning to Beijing, Yin Yong quickly launched his campaign, using the previous fan wars to generate buzz and skillfully stoking the conversation around Bu Qianwei’s performance, reigniting public interest.

This strategy was risky—it banked entirely on Bu Qianwei’s acting. If the film delivered and her performance impressed, the movie and Bu herself would attract tremendous attention. But if her acting fell short, all the buzz could backfire.

The industry was abuzz with talk of his bold approach. Some even bet that Wen Yue was bound to lose a fortune on this project.

But only Yin Yong, having seen the raw footage, knew this was a winning bet.

The only downside was that despite his best efforts, the buzz was gradually fading.

After experiencing such an intense surge of attention, Yin Yong felt a pang of regret.

If only a fresh topic could reignite that heat.

Then he chided himself—wasn’t he being a bit greedy? Most films were lucky to have even one moment of publicity that took off, and here he was hoping for another one.

Resolving to keep his focus steady, he prepared for the next phase of the campaign.

Suddenly, one of his team members rushed in. “Director Yin! Look at the trending topics!”

Yin Yong pulled up the trending list, and his mind buzzed in disbelief.

[Feng Tingyun’s New Film Debuts at the Hibbert Film Festival, Qin Wen Wins Best Supporting Actor]

[First Best Supporting Actor Win for a Chinese Male Actor in 12 Years]

[Qin Wen’s Performance Sparks Excitement for The Ghostly Gate]

Yin Yong: “!!!”

He hadn’t done anything, and now this juicy attention had just fallen into his lap?!

This was like the universe handing him a gourmet side dish to go with his meal!

Yin Yong’s breathing quickened as he scrambled to call Sun Hongfei. “D-Director Sun, did you see the trending topics?”

Sun Hongfei replied with calm composure, “I saw them.”

Yin Yong stammered, “I…am I dreaming?”

“Stay calm,” Sun Hongfei said, his tone loaded with meaning. “I told you, you have to trust President Gu. Everything is under his control.”