After Spectating Gossip, the Entertainment Industry Thinks I’m a Big Shot – CH67

Chapter 67

Once the release date was set, Yin Yong adjusted the promotional strategy.

Thanks to the recent wave of publicity, The Ghostly Gate was already on many people’s radar. But as soon as they saw the Valentine’s Day release date, everyone was stunned.

[A horror movie on Valentine’s Day??? Are they serious???]

[Weirdly enough, I kind of like the idea. I’ll take my crush, and when it gets scary, I’ll just jump into his arms, hehehe. Perfect plan!]

[Usually, I dread watching those lovey-dovey romance movies with my girlfriend every Valentine’s Day. Five minutes in, and I’m already fighting off sleep, but I have to stay alert, or else when she asks me about the movie afterward, I won’t know what to say, and she’ll accuse me of not loving her. So bad for the relationship! But now, I can just hold her close whenever she gets scared. No awkward questions, just a better bond! Perfection!]

[Wow! That’s genius! Taking notes!!]

*

The unexpectedly positive feedback from netizens gave Yin Yong even more confidence and made him admire Gu Xingshi’s foresight all the more.

But just as everything seemed to be going smoothly, a bombshell dropped on them.

A big-name film—The Legend of Yunshan 2—suddenly announced a Valentine’s Day release.

Three years ago, the fantasy movie The Legend of Yunshan had been a massive hit, and the sequel had been highly anticipated. With a rumored budget of 800 million yuan, the filmmakers had grand ambitions, boldly declaring that The Legend of Yunshan 2 would surpass its predecessor’s box office and even aim for a place among the top domestic films.

No one wanted to compete with such a blockbuster, and most would avoid the same release period. But unexpectedly, it locked in its date with little warning.

As soon as the release date was announced, The Legend of Yunshan 2 launched an aggressive publicity campaign, flooding the internet with hype and drowning out all other films.

Movies scheduled for the same period were all disheartened, lamenting their bad luck.

Yin Yong was equally frustrated. His meticulously planned promotion was completely overshadowed by The Legend of Yunshan 2, failing to generate the impact he had hoped for.

Preoccupied with these worries, he accidentally let his frustrations show in front of Gu Xingshi.

But after listening to his concerns, Gu Xingshi didn’t seem bothered. “Our movie is a completely different genre. The Ghostly Gate shouldn’t be impacted too much, right?”

Yin Yong was taken aback.

He had been focused on how a blockbuster like The Legend of Yunshan 2 would siphon off a huge chunk of the box office, leaving little room for other films. But Gu Xingshi was right; The Ghostly Gate was already an unconventional choice for Valentine’s Day, and precisely because it was different, it had less to fear.

Suddenly, Yin Yong’s mind cleared, and he felt a new surge of confidence. “President Gu, I have an idea. What if we start an early, large-scale preview campaign? The Ghostly Gate is a solid film, and if we can build strong early reviews, it could boost ticket sales even more. What do you think?”

Gu Xingshi nodded approvingly. “Good idea!”

With Gu Xingshi’s support, Yin Yong was even more motivated and threw himself into the preparations with renewed vigor.

*

Jiang Jianyu had been eagerly anticipating the release of The Ghostly Gate.

First, because she’d never seen a movie with this much buzz pre-release, practically living on the trending lists. From her experience, a film that generates so much discussion was bound to either be a colossal hit or a complete disaster.

Second, of course, was Bu Qianwei.

As a content creator on Platform C, specializing in film critiques, nearly all of Bu Qianwei’s previous movies had become staple material in her videos. She couldn’t fathom why President Gu would choose her as the lead actress.

But when Qin Wen, Yan Xiang, and others consistently praised Bu’s acting in interviews—and especially when President Gu called her their “perfectly chosen leading lady”—Jiang Jianyu’s curiosity was piqued.

After watching the trailer, where Bu Qianwei’s performance actually looked decent, her anticipation grew.

So, the moment she learned The Ghostly Gate would be screened early, she rushed to buy a ticket. To her surprise, many seats were already booked. She’d expected that such a niche horror film wouldn’t attract too much interest—how could the tickets be selling so fast?

She didn’t think further and hurriedly secured her seat.

On the preview day, she arrived at the theater early, only to find the screening already packed, with a surprising number of couples in the audience.

Right next to Jiang Jianyu sat a couple, with the boyfriend—a tall, brawny guy—reassuring his girlfriend, “If you get scared, just hide in my arms. I’ll protect you…”

His intentions were clear as day.

Jiang Jianyu found herself enduring a hefty dose of public displays of affection.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before the movie began, and she put aside all her distractions to focus on the screen.

The film opened with the male lead, played by Qin Wen, inviting the female lead, played by Bu Qianwei, to try a haunted escape room. He’d even arranged with one of the costumed “ghost” actors to jump out at just the right moment, hoping to scare her into his arms.

This playful scheming mirrored the motives of many couples in the audience, drawing knowing laughs throughout the theater.

But as soon as Bu Qianwei appeared, nearly everyone was struck silent, inhaling sharply at her stunning presence.

A few people had doubted the believability of a heartthrob like Qin Wen having to resort to such tactics to win over a girl. But seeing Bu Qianwei’s radiant beauty on screen, they immediately understood.

Bu Qianwei’s character was a bit spoiled, but in an endearing way. And to Jiang Jianyu’s surprise, her acting in these scenes felt incredibly natural.

Initially, Jiang had assumed the scenes in the trailer were the result of selective editing, but now it seemed that Bu Qianwei’s acting had genuinely improved.

As the plot progressed, the “ghost” that everyone feared never fully revealed itself, though people continued to die, steadily building a terrifying atmosphere.

The male and female leads eventually discovered a new clue leading them to an abandoned village, and they drove there together.

From the moment they entered the village, although nothing particularly frightening happened, Jiang Jianyu felt like a taut string ready to snap at any moment.

She was entirely engrossed in the story now, right up until the scene where the female lead was possessed by the ghost.

Seeing Bu Qianwei’s beautiful face suddenly twist into a grotesque expression was like a blade that sliced right through her nerves.

Jiang Jianyu recoiled in her seat, instinctively jerking back.

But it wasn’t over. With a creepy smile on her face, Bu Qianwei’s character twisted her body into unnatural angles as she began hunting down the male lead.

The indescribable, almost inhuman terror that permeated Bu Qianwei’s performance left an indelible mark on every viewer’s mind.

With an unbroken long shot that heightened the suffocating tension, the fear was relentless.

Jiang Jianyu felt her back pressed tightly against her seat, her breaths growing rapid.

Screams erupted throughout the theater, one after another.

When the movie finally ended and the theater lights came back on, the entire audience exhaled in relief, each sigh blending into a collective “whoosh” that startled those still lost in the movie’s aftershock.

Jiang wiped the sweat off her forehead, feeling her heart still pounding.

The tall, tough-looking guy beside her was now huddled against his girlfriend’s shoulder, whimpering as she patted his back. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you…”

Jiang Jianyu: “…”

Honestly, she hadn’t expected this film to pack such a punch.

Qin Wen’s performance was outstanding. Even though it was just a horror film, he had ample room to showcase his skill, and his subtle, detailed acting elevated the film to another level.

Yan Xiang’s segment was equally powerful—her desperate struggle to survive left Jiang feeling every bit of the intensity.

But the biggest surprise was undoubtedly Bu Qianwei.

At this point, Jiang Jianyu could barely contain her awe for Bu’s performance. All she could think was: Anyone who doubts sister Bu’s acting should be forced to watch The Ghostly Gate ten times!

Now she understood why President Gu had said that Bu Qianwei was the “perfect choice” for this role. Truly, President Gu’s eye for talent was unparalleled!

As an audience member, one could always trust in President Gu’s choices!

That night, Jiang Jianyu rushed home to edit and upload a video, enthusiastically recommending The Ghostly Gate, calling it the best horror film she’d seen in years.

[What?? For a second I thought someone hacked the channel! Is it really that good?]

[I was planning to see The Legend of Yunshan 2 with friends on Valentine’s Day, but this review has got me curious. I think I’ll watch The Ghostly Gate first!]

[You’re actually praising Bu Qianwei’s acting? I can’t believe it! There’s no way her acting could scare anyone!]

Seeing this comment, Jiang replied directly: [Guaranteed to scare. Give it a try, and if you’re not scared, I’ll reimburse your ticket.]

The comment section erupted with reactions, and the skeptical couldn’t resist the challenge, posting a screenshot of his ticket to prove he’d be seeing the movie the next day.

However, the very next day, that same commenter sheepishly returned to the thread, admitting defeat.

This wasn’t the only instance. In fact, some other skeptical content creators recorded themselves watching the movie. They managed to stay composed at first, but the moment Bu Qianwei appeared in full horror mode, they were screaming in terror, even spilling their drinks in panic.

Before long, hashtags like:

#TheGhostlyGateIsTerrifying

#BuQianwei’sScaryPerformance

#IsQinWenStillAlive? all surged to the top of the trending list.

Discussions exploded online as more viewers shared their experiences.

[Took my girlfriend to prove how brave I am, but I ended up hiding on her shoulder for the second half. Couldn’t even lift my head!]

[Finally got into a relationship! Thank you, The Ghostly Gate. Thank you, sister Bu!]

[Went with my entire dorm to watch it. We made a bet: whoever screams has to wash everyone’s socks for a week. Umm… thanks to my terror-induced silence, I now have a month off sock duty!]

As The Ghostly Gate continued to trend online, its pre-sales soared impressively.

The moment the presale numbers were released, Yin Yong nearly jumped out of his seat in excitement. He had worried that competing against The Legend of Yunshan 2 would hurt The Ghostly Gate’s ticket sales, but now all his concerns were put to rest.

Yin Yong looked at Gu Xingshi with newfound admiration. “President Gu, you’re truly a mastermind! Everything has gone exactly as you planned!”

“Huh?” Gu Xingshi was baffled. “What are you talking about? Weren’t you in charge of the marketing and distribution? How is this my doing?”

Yin Yong’s respect only grew deeper. Here was someone with such remarkable insight, yet so humble. He clearly had a lot left to learn!

Meanwhile, the success of The Ghostly Gate did not sit well with those behind The Legend of Yunshan 2. They had expected to dominate any release period with their established brand and overwhelming popularity, assuming other films would simply steer clear.

But then The Ghostly Gate—an unexpected dark horse—charged onto the scene.

One person particularly displeased by this was Fang Ming, one of The Legend of Yunshan 2’s investors.

Fang Ming had always looked down on Gu Xingshi. He saw him as an upstart riding on Wen Yue’s coattails, who had somehow managed to worm his way into the investment circle and even earned a surprising amount of respect. In Fang’s eyes, Gu’s success was mere luck—he was a nobody who had no real knowledge of the film industry.

Fang Ming often sneered at Gu’s choices, pointing out that The Ghostly Gate was directed by an unknown and starred a male lead with barely any acting experience, plus a lead actress, Bu Qianwei, infamous for her “terrible” performances. When discussing it with other investors, Fang went so far as to declare, “If The Ghostly Gate even makes it past a hundred million at the box office, I’ll call Gu Xingshi ‘Dad.’”

But Fang hadn’t expected The Ghostly Gate to gain any traction. First, Qin Wen won Best Supporting Actor at the Hibbert Film Festival, creating a buzz. Then, supporting actress Yan Xiang went viral thanks to her short drama appearances.

As The Ghostly Gate’s popularity grew, Fang Ming grew nervous.

Then came the news that The Ghostly Gate would be competing against The Legend of Yunshan 2 on Valentine’s Day.

Fang finally breathed a sigh of relief.

What did it matter if The Ghostly Gate had hype? Up against The Legend of Yunshan 2, it was like an egg striking a rock.

Not only would it fail to break a hundred million, but it might not even recoup its budget.

But soon, he was forced to eat his words when The Ghostly Gate’s presales came out.

Despite having a lower initial screening rate than The Legend of Yunshan 2, The Ghostly Gate’s pre-sales were nearly equal. How was that even possible?!

Fang’s first assumption was that Wen Yue was artificially inflating ticket sales to support his “boyfriend.” But after investigating, he realized that The Ghostly Gate’s numbers were genuine. Given that the cast wasn’t packed with household names, there were few industry friends bulk-buying tickets as favors; the audience was made up of real viewers buying tickets one by one.

Despite the investigation confirming the authenticity of The Ghostly Gate’s ticket sales, Fang Ming remained skeptical.

He quickly reassured himself that the initial ticket surge was likely a fluke due to the film’s unusual promotional approach. Niche horror films typically attract genre enthusiasts early on but lose momentum quickly. The high pre-sales meant nothing—soon, The Ghostly Gate would reveal its true colors. Casual audiences might be curious, but seasoned critics and reporters knew which films had real value.

When Fang finally arrived at the premiere of The Legend of Yunshan 2, he was relieved to see the vast crowd of journalists, which validated his beliefs.

“See?” he thought. “The media knows where the real story is. The Ghostly Gate’s premiere must be deserted—no one but a few stray fans in attendance.”

Meanwhile, at The Ghostly Gate’s premiere, Gu Xingshi scanned the media area, looking slightly taken aback. “Quite a few reporters came, actually,” he remarked.

Yin Yong was surprised too. “I thought most of the press would flock to The Legend of Yunshan 2. And these aren’t just junior reporters; I saw several senior journalists. They must really believe in us.”

Just then, a wave of commotion rippled through the crowd.

Gu Xingshi experienced an odd sense of déjà vu. “Why does this all feel so familiar?”

The system replied drily, [Because it should. This isn’t the first time.]

Gu Xingshi: [?]

The next moment, the crowd parted, and Wen Yue appeared, calmly making his way toward him.

Startled, Gu blurted, “President Wen?”

Wen paused upon reaching him, then nodded slightly. “President Gu, congratulations.”

Gu was completely bewildered.

And he wasn’t alone—the entire press corps was stunned. Word was that President Wen was perpetually busy, so much so that he hadn’t even attended Feng Tingyun’s movie premiere. But here he was at The Ghostly Gate’s opening?

But one thing was certain: this was major news!

The journalists had come expecting a good story, but before the movie even started, they had landed an enormous scoop!

This wasn’t just a premiere—this was a feast for the media!

Wen Yue, seeing Gu’s bewildered expression, felt his heart race, though he kept his face impassive. He gestured to the empty seat beside Gu. “President Gu, may I sit here?”

Just as Gu was about to respond, Qin Wen appeared out of nowhere and plopped down in the exact seat Wen had indicated.

Wen Yue: “…”

Qin Wen had sensed danger the moment Wen entered, eyeing his every move. Seeing that Wen was indeed here for Gu, Qin acted swiftly.

Gu Xingshi looked at him quizzically. “Aren’t you supposed to sit with Director Pei and the others?”

Qin Wen lowered his head, speaking softly. “It’s my first time in a lead role. I feel a little nervous… Sitting here makes me feel more secure.”

He then looked up and offered Wen a polite smile. “Sorry for the inconvenience, President Wen.”

Wen cast him a cold glance. “It’s fine.”

But before Qin Wen could get too pleased, Sun Hongfei sprang up from Gu’s other side and eagerly vacated his seat. “President Wen, please take my spot!”

Without hesitation, Wen settled into the newly vacated seat and began chatting with Gu Xingshi.

Qin Wen: “!!!”

Gritting his teeth, he turned back to Gu. “President Gu, the air conditioning here is blowing too strongly, and I’m starting to feel dizzy. Could you switch seats with me?”

Gu glanced up at the vent. “The vent’s directly between us, though. You’ll still feel it even if we switch.”

Wen gave a subtle look to Sun Hongfei, who immediately caught on and rushed to Qin Wen’s side, offering enthusiastically, “Qin, the AC is softer over by me. Why don’t we swap seats?”

Qin Wen: “…”

Traitor!

With a clenched jaw, Qin Wen muttered, “Never mind… I’m actually fine now.”

Meanwhile, Wen had already steered the conversation back to Gu, seamlessly discussing post-premiere promotional work. Gu’s expression shifted to one of intense focus.

Left with no other option, Qin Wen could only throw a glare Wen Yue’s way, frustrated but forced into silence.

Cheng Xin was absolutely right!

Wen Yue was, indeed, a total sly fox!

Wen didn’t chat with Gu Xingshi for long, as it was soon time for the screening to begin. The lights dimmed, and the film’s opening sequence slowly appeared on the screen.

But Wen Yue’s attention wasn’t on the movie. Instead, he subtly turned his head, his gaze lingering hungrily on Gu Xingshi’s silhouette in the darkness. Despite the intensity of his gaze, Wen kept his body movements meticulously restrained.

Tall and broad-shouldered, Wen found the theater’s seats a bit cramped. Gu Xingshi’s hand lay casually on the armrest between them, and occasionally his arm would brush against Wen’s elbow. Even such a fleeting touch left Wen feeling warmth where their skin had connected.

Gu Xingshi, however, was completely unaware, fully engrossed in the film. He had already seen a rough cut during the initial editing phase, though that version lacked sound effects, music, and post-production polish. The final product now exceeded his expectations.

A sense of satisfaction welled up in him as he thought about how he had overseen every step of this project.

But after a while, his thoughts drifted, and he glanced back to gauge the audience’s reactions. Seeing everyone captivated by the screen, he turned back, feeling content—until his phone, resting on his lap, suddenly slipped into the gap between the seats.

Without a second thought, Wen Yue reached down to retrieve it for him.

At the same time, Gu Xingshi instinctively reached into the gap as well.

In an instant, Wen’s hand closed around the phone just as Gu’s fingers brushed over his hand. Their fingers threaded together, Gu’s warm fingertips pressing gently between Wen’s knuckles, fitting in an unexpectedly intimate way.

Wen Yue froze.

Time seemed to stretch in that moment, each second elongated. He could feel the faint texture of the calluses on Gu’s fingers sliding over his own, sending a delicate current through him.

Gu Xingshi also froze when he touched Wen Yue’s hand, but he quickly brushed past Wen’s fingers, reaching his cold phone, and deftly pulled it out from under Wen’s palm.

Just as he was pulling his hand back, however, Wen Yue suddenly closed his hand around Gu’s.

Wen’s wide palm completely enveloped his, radiating a heat that nearly scorched the back of Gu’s hand.

Before Gu Xingshi could fully register the unexpected gesture, Wen Yue released his hand just as quickly.

Gu tucked his phone away, then hesitated and glanced toward Wen, feeling a flicker of uncertainty. But the theater was too dark to make out Wen Yue’s expression.

After a pause, Gu leaned closer and whispered, “President Wen…”

Wen’s heart skipped a beat, unsure if Gu had noticed something. His gaze shifted slightly as he lowered his head closer. “Yes?”

Gu hesitated for a moment before asking, “Are you… scared?”

Wen Yue: “…”

He was about to deny it, but suddenly remembered something he’d read online earlier. Some couples had shared that when one partner was frightened while watching The Ghostly Gate, the other would pull them in for a comforting hug.

Could that be why Gu was asking him this…?

Wen’s throat went dry, and he subtly leaned closer, answering softly, “A bit.”

Gu Xingshi had only asked on a whim, not expecting Wen Yue to actually admit it.

Who would’ve thought that the imposing President Wen, with his commanding presence, would be afraid of ghosts? It was true—appearances could be deceiving.

“Ah, I see,” Gu replied, turning slightly toward him.

A flicker of anticipation ignited within Wen Yue. He clenched his hand into a fist, holding back, and could practically hear his pulse quicken with hope.

But in the next second, Gu reached into his pocket, pulled out a small talisman, and pressed it firmly to Wen’s chest with a soft “slap.”

Wen Yue: “?”

Gu leaned in with a hushed voice, “Personally certified by Director Pei. It works like a charm!”

Wen Yue: “…”