Chapter Fifteen: Ruined by Another

“…The reason I came to find you, Violet, is because I watched that ‘Lighting the Stars’ film. Your performance there was quite impressive—very fitting for my movie…” Of course, this was pure fabrication on Wu Xiang’s part. He had never seen anything called ‘Lighting the Stars,’ but that hardly mattered.

“…My film is a modern love story, mainly about the fascinating things happening on the internet. That’s why I set my sights on contemporary college students for casting. All the students at the Film Academy and the Central Drama Academy are key observation subjects for me…” This, at least, was the truth, and it explained why he was seeking out Violet Zhang. Otherwise, what was he supposed to say—that he’d been reborn, knew she’d act, and would become a superstar?

“…I think this story has real market potential and resonates with today’s youth. Violet, you’re perfect for my female lead. You are the very image of Graceful Dance…” Wu Xiang talked until his mouth was dry.

But in reality, all the eloquence in the world couldn’t compete with a table full of food. With someone else footing the bill and only needing to talk a bit, who would hesitate? They ordered with abandon, but no one was in the mood to listen to his ramblings. Even more importantly, this wasn’t the cafeteria at the Central Drama Academy—they were at Peckin’ Chicken, that fancy place run by the white-bearded old man. He’d chosen it precisely because it was so upscale and stylish.

“Mmm, these chicken nuggets are really good. I never used to splurge on them before.”

“Yes, yes, and this leg burger is great too! Finally, I don’t have to eat bread from outside anymore. Hehehe.”

Wu Xiang could only sigh inwardly. He realized these two future stars weren’t taking him seriously in the least. But there was little he could do—he’d just have to wait. Surely they cared about their figures, right? He’d wait.

At last, they finished eating. How could these future celebrities not know anything about dieting? This was high-calorie junk food, after all.

A satisfied burp echoed from one of them.

Truth be told, Wu Xiang was rather hopeful now. He figured they must be in a good mood after a hearty meal, and surely, as the saying went, those who accept a favor owe an obligation in return.

“So, what do you think, Violet? Have you considered it? Would you like to play the lead in my film?” Wu Xiang kept his smile gentle.

But before Violet Zhang could answer, Qin Hailu interjected, “Don’t think you can buy us off with a meal. Is the world really that simple? Let me tell you, it’s not! Honestly, you’re nothing but a fraud—a big con artist!”

“A fraud?” Wu Xiang was speechless. All his effort was for nothing.

“That’s right, a fraud. And how old are you? Are you even twenty? Directing and writing your own film at twenty? Are you kidding us? Do you think we’re just pretty faces with no brains?” Qin Hailu stared at him sternly.

…

Wu Xiang said nothing. Instead, he pulled out a little notebook from his pocket. “Here, classmates, this is my student ID. You can check with the Film Academy if you like. As for the movie, it’s this one.”

He took a book from his bag, one he’d prepared earlier—his own knockoff masterpiece, “First Intimate Contact.”

“You’re making this?” Qin Hailu’s expression changed the moment she saw the book. “You must be loaded. Adapting a novel costs a fortune, doesn’t it?”

Wu Xiang finally felt a sliver of satisfaction. His work must be pretty good after all. “This is my own novel. I’m filming my own work. So, to be honest, I’m funding this myself—not only am I writing and directing, I’m also the producer!”

He was genuinely proud, especially in front of these beautiful women—one of whom would become an international superstar someday.

“Well, well! An author too—a real talent. I never would have guessed.” It was clear from Qin Hailu’s tone that she was being sarcastic, but Wu Xiang couldn’t afford to be picky now.

He forced a smile. “I’m telling the truth. There’s no point in lying to you. If you don’t believe me, come to the Film Academy with me. It’s not some dragon’s lair—you can ask around and see for yourselves…”

“Wu Xiang, what are you up to?”

Just as Wu Xiang was about to lay all his cards on the table, a familiar voice interrupted him.

“Huang Yi?” Of course Wu Xiang knew her. He never imagined she’d appear before him. What a coincidence. “What are you doing here?”

“Did you forget? I’m rehearsing a play with Professor Huang, right nearby.” Huang Yi was poised and friendly, acting like an old acquaintance.

Wu Xiang thought to himself, “How was I supposed to know who you’re rehearsing with?” He didn’t say it aloud, but in fact, her arrival was perfect—she could vouch for him as a Film Academy student, couldn’t she? He opened his mouth to speak, but Huang Yi was quicker.

“These two are your friends? They’re really pretty—nice taste, Wu Xiang.” With that, she plopped down right beside him and slung an arm around his shoulder as if they were old buddies.

“Well…” he thought, forget it—if acting like buddies could help, why not? Wu Xiang was about to ask her to clarify for him, but she was still faster.

…

“Oh, you’re showing off that student ID again? Heh, ladies, let me assure you—Wu Xiang here is the real deal, a bona fide top scholar from the Film Academy’s Class of ’97 Literature Department. Don’t doubt it for a second.”

Her words captured exactly what Wu Xiang wished to convey, but her tone suggested something else entirely—as if Wu Xiang was always flaunting his credentials everywhere. That made things interesting. Why would someone do that? And remembering her previous comment—“nice taste, Wu Xiang”—the implication behind her behavior was all too clear.

“Oh, I see.” Violet Zhang and Qin Hailu exchanged a glance, their faces full of disdain.

“Damn it!” Wu Xiang cursed inwardly. This was the art of language—only our country’s tongue has such subtlety. The same words, delivered with a different tone or inflection, could mean something entirely different.

Just as one could insult without uttering a single crude word, Wu Xiang, who had been a decent, upright young man, was now painted as a playboy—and there was no way to explain it. Any attempt would be futile.

Now he was in an awkward bind. He had to clarify things, or he’d miss his chance with Violet Zhang, the future superstar.

“Um, what I mean is—”

But once again, Huang Yi cut him off.

“Oh, right, the movie! Ladies, I can vouch for this too. I’m Wu Xiang’s classmate. He’s genuinely trying to make a film—script, investment, everything’s in place. Absolutely true.” Her tone was as casual as before, as if to say it was nothing out of the ordinary, but somehow it made it sound as if this happened all the time. What’s more, she patted Wu Xiang on the shoulder and gave him a look as if to say, “Didn’t I do well for you, buddy?”

There was nothing more to say. At last, Wu Xiang understood the true meaning of a certain saying.

When mud falls into your pants, even if it isn’t filth, it’s as good as filth.