I have a persona specifically for acting.

Tong Zhao was particularly happy.

“A movie means double the experience; once it’s finished, Zhao Zai should be able to come out.”

Ever since her head got caught in the door last time, Zhao Zai had given up her curious behavior of peeking around. Instead, Concubine Chen often came to tease her, like someone playing with a little seal at the zoo. Lu Xianzhang felt sorry for Zhao Zai, thankful that during her time as a concubine, she had never had children; otherwise, she would likely have ended up as someone who was played with by her own mother to pass the time.

Zhao Zai said she would challenge Concubine Chen when she came out.

Concubine Chen: “Jump up and hit my knees? I’m so scared.”

Tong Zhao patted essence on her face.

In fact, these effects were not as good as her practice in cultivation. Even just sitting quietly for an hour to absorb the essence of heaven and earth had better results than any beauty treatment. It was just that she enjoyed having all those bottles and jars in her bathroom, and the thrill of buying skincare products in bulk when they were on sale.

After finishing her skincare routine, Tong Zhao lay back in her massage chair, preparing to check on Ze Shan’s work progress.

Everything was going smoothly.

“Little Lamb Playmate” was being launched into the market step by step according to her planned publicity strategy. The high costs originally set aside for celebrity endorsements had been redistributed to hire various game streamers and video content creators to produce embedded advertisements.

“Is the opposing team’s support taking down the Wild King? Come to ‘Little Lamb Playmate’! You can find any king here and even listen to voice lines.”

In the gaming lobby, seeking help from the Wild King? By spending money on “Little Lamb Playmate,” you could enjoy the thrill of selecting a concubine.

Tong Zhao instructed that the app’s categories be more detailed; not only should the ranks be differentiated, but they could also be specified down to hero names as keywords—like if a boss wanted to learn to play the hero Yun Zhongjun, they could simply look for a top player specializing in Yun Zhongjun’s skills, ensuring they wouldn’t lead novices astray.

By the time others noticed the business opportunities in this field, it was already too late.

The players established fixed relationships with bosses in “Little Lamb Playmate,” and users were accustomed to spending money there.

Just this “habit” was worth its weight in gold.

Being the first to take the plunge had its advantages.

Tong Zhao calculated her earnings from “Little Lamb Playmate” and, satisfied, closed the app. She also reminded Wei Zekai: “Remember to prohibit any offline transactions and never arrange offline meetings through the app. Although many users want a local function, it’s too risky to open that up. If they want a casual encounter, they should find their partners in the private spaces instead of through our application.”

Wei Zekai: “Okay.”

Wei Zekai: “What does blind box have to do with this?”

Tong Zhao: “… It’s like instant local matchmaking; you add each other in the morning and meet in the afternoon without knowing what the other person looks like. That’s why it’s called a blind box.”

Wei Zekai looked shocked.

He had gained some useless knowledge.

Not really liking this method, he thought about what he wanted to say the most today: “By the way, a momentary failure doesn’t mean anything; you are the best.”

Tong Zhao: “Huh?”

Wei Zekai: “I will always firmly choose you!”

Wei Zekai: “If you don’t want to talk about this, I won’t say anything more. But I hope Tong Zhao knows that each of us at Ze Shan is your solid support, especially me.”

Wei Zekai: “[Music Link: My Good Brother – Xiao Shenyang & Gao Jin]”

Tong Zhao accidentally clicked on the link, and the song began to play.

‘My good brother, if you have troubles, you tell me. When you need me, I will accompany you through it together.’ [Note]

Tong Zhao: “……… ”

She didn’t know what was wrong with this guy.

Just as she was about to ask, her manager called, telling her not to pay attention to the rumors outside and that the next opportunity would be even better.

Ten minutes earlier, Tong Zhao had felt quite pleased with herself.

Ten minutes later, her good friend and manager sent her comforting messages.

This left Tong Zhao puzzled.

But this wasn’t the first time; she clearly felt she was quite impervious to attacks, yet those around her seemed to feel distressed even when she bumped into something.

“First, explain what the outside rumors are about.”

“They said that you mentioned your subconscious has various forms and wanted to showcase them separately to Director Shi. Wasting two audition opportunities and still getting rejected, some things were said quite harshly. They said it’s ridiculous that you treat your unstable, distorted subconscious as a selling point in front of a big director. They won’t increase costs because of your instability; you really think too highly of yourself.”

Sister Chu paused and then comforted her, saying, “It’s just jealousy. Those who have achieved more than you and are currently more famous certainly wouldn’t think that way.”

However, Tong Zhao held the opposite view:

“If they really didn’t think that way, then the entertainment industry wouldn’t have the term ‘bomb-proof’.”

The cake is only so big.

If she gets a role, it inevitably means someone else loses a role.

Actors with subconscious-driven film roles generally have more rigid paths and typically only compete with similar types.

But Tong Zhao was an outlier; anyone could be threatened by her.

Right now, everything she acted in became a hit; no one wanted to clash with her ratings. As long as she expressed interest in acting… even if it was just a script without a production team, there would be investors willing to back her. What couldn’t be accomplished with money? Aside from directors of Director Shi’s caliber, there were plenty of directors wanting to collaborate with Tong Zhao. Shi Qianqiu was just sitting there and doing nothing, saying he didn’t want to shoot a new movie for the time being—unless Tong Zhao acted in it.

Sister Chu: “You have a point.”

Sister Chu: “Others are fine with just one bowl of rice; you want to set a banquet at home.”

Tong Zhao laughed at this description.

Isn’t that right? She could indeed host a grand feast in her mind.

After laughing, Tong Zhao collected herself and said, “The main issue is that they got it wrong from the beginning. Where did they hear such false news? Director Shi has already settled on me. However, the increased costs need to be discussed with the investors. He was very confident in his tone, saying he has some influence with the investors and asked me to give him two days. He will definitely give me a response by Sunday.”

Tong Zhao’s time was precious; she wouldn’t get stuck on a single project.

So, waiting two days was also a matter of giving Director Shi face.

Sister Chu felt happy for her after hearing this, but she was also puzzled—how did this rumor spread?

This was easy to investigate.

After all, a group of people were vividly claiming that they had personally heard Director Shi say it.

As it circulated, the final version morphed into a sensational story about how “the domineering little flower wanted to show off in front of the veteran director but ended up being eliminated instead,” which was very satisfying for those who spread it.

Tong Zhao made a phone call to ask the director himself. Director Shi was baffled, denied the rumors three times, and then told her the original words. He didn’t think she was making a big deal out of it; instead, he comforted her: “Stability in the subconscious is important. If this were your first performance, I might be worried, but your past performances have been so stable that I don’t need to worry at all! The audition effect you presented to me is worth the risk. You’re still young and new in the industry; too many people are envious of you. Such talk is normal, just wait for the official announcement.”

Director Shi had a good impression of Tong Zhao.

Moreover, since his master was quite fond of her, they might even have a future as fellow disciples, so he naturally was willing to say a few more words.

“By the way, do you have time the night after tomorrow? My master’s birthday is being celebrated at Ming Yun Restaurant, and I’d like to invite you to dinner. But it’s in Qin City… If you come, I will arrange for someone to pick you up.”

Taking the opportunity, Director Shi extended the invitation.

Tong Zhao checked her schedule; she had nothing planned for that day, so it would be a good chance to visit Qin City.

While enjoying peace and rest at home was nice, she also needed to get out and about.

One of the benefits of her quick-wear experiences was that she had endless energy and initiative. She didn’t need others to tell her what to do, nor did she require prompting; she would take the initiative to get things done and would find tasks to occupy herself with if there was nothing to do—she simply couldn’t sit still. Sister Chu often joked that among the artists she managed, Zhao Zhao was the one who needed the least coaxing. When the schedule was set, and she called to confirm, the answer she always received was full of energy, along with a readiness to go out at any time.

That’s why she was the most cherished by her.

“Okay, then I’ll see you the night after tomorrow.”

Once Tong Zhao settled this, she told Sister Chu not to schedule any other work for her in the meantime.

She also sent a message to that overly worried guy: “Don’t overthink it; I wasn’t eliminated. The role is mine now.”

Wei Zekai: “ [Surprised expression of the host holding open their eyelids with two fingers.jpg]”

Wei Zekai: “[Snape clapping meme.jpg]”

…This guy’s collection of memes was truly unfathomable.

After hanging up, Sister Chu suddenly realized something was off. The old curator’s birthday?

She checked, and historically, the old curator’s birthday was a star-studded event, especially for those who had acted in action films. No one would dare to offend him. However, in the past, it had never been grand; he only invited his disciples and familiar faces. This year marked his sixtieth birthday, and they were preparing for a big celebration at Ming Yun Restaurant.

Ming Yun Restaurant was also a prestigious place.

It was the highest-rated restaurant in Qin City, and many celebrities and wealthy businessmen chose to host banquets on the top three floors.

It wasn’t just a simple birthday celebration for a friend!

Sister Chu was speechless and more anxious than Tong Zhao herself. She hurriedly booked the best stylist and formal wear she could find on short notice, determined to dress her up beautifully. There would be reporters and other film stars on site, and once the photos hit the streets, who would dare say Director Shi looked down on her?

Tong Zhao was clearly informed about the arrangements, while her manager was already starting to take out loans to prove a point.

She didn’t feel much about it; her manager said, “If they can mock with loans, why can’t I enjoy myself with one? They talk as if it’s true; Director Shi is on good terms with our Zhao Zhao!”

Tong Zhao found this line of reasoning a bit strange.

But it was no wonder Sister Chu was angry. The confidentiality of the auditions that day was not very high, and once rumors started circulating, they spread like wildfire. Some were screenshot and shared within small circles of friends, eventually landing in the hands of marketing accounts, presented as half-truths.

@Guajie Breaks the News:

Guess who this female star is?

[Content of the screenshot from the Moments: “I can’t help but say this is too funny ! When I went to the audition today, I encountered Director Shi auditioning for ‘The Knives of the Maiden’ and overheard a scoop… A certain female star who debuted a year ago claimed her subconscious was very special and wanted two audition chances. In the end, she didn’t make it after trying twice . The director and the supervisor said she was too unstable, which would increase costs.”]

Comments on Moments:

“Really? Who is it?”

Reply: “TZ (in a low voice)”

“Wow, didn’t she say she rejected a lot of scripts? Is she just waiting for this one? It’s so unfortunate to be eliminated.”

Reply: “I think the director doesn’t like her being too dramatic. If she had auditioned well, maybe she’d still have a chance.”

These snarky screenshots from Moments were like water hitting a hot oil pan; they exploded.

It was too easy to guess.

The points about being in the industry for a year and subconsciousness, coupled with the initials, were practically the same as naming her outright.

[TZ can only be Tong Zhao.]

[It’s normal to fail an audition once; is it necessary to be so sarcastic? She didn’t use this to promote herself.]

[Can’t her fans just stop being so smug?]

[Hmm, it’s probably because saying the truth sounds like bragging; a niche reality show blew up, and a leading lady film broke records on its opening day, but now she’s being buried in the ground after one failed audition… I’m just speaking the truth for some jealous folks; no need to thank me!]

In the entertainment industry, whether fans or haters, everyone was a super big gossip monger.

The comments and shares became chaotic, and occasionally an uninformed bystander would wander in, noticing countless mentions of the name in the hot comments, yet there were still people asking—

[Who are you all talking about? Why do you all look like you know what’s going on?]

Good grief, they’re jumping from Bilibili to Weibo, wanting the gossip served to them on a platter, even saving the effort of chewing.

Bystanders are just enjoying the show, while fans are genuinely invested.

The battle between fans and haters in the comments of this Weibo post, coupled with Tong Zhao’s increased fame following the Li Zhi TV gala, has led many to pay attention to what role she would take next. Fans were eagerly looking forward to her breaking new records, but instead, they got the news that she turned down many scripts and failed auditions, which must have been disappointing.

If it were just a private disappointment, that would be one thing.

Although Tong Zhao had only debuted for a short while, her foundation was solid, and among her fanbase, many top-tier fans wouldn’t just run away after a small setback.

However, being exposed to the sunlight felt entirely different.

But thinking about it, with Tong Zhao’s current popularity, it was impossible for her to just quietly fade away. Countless pairs of eyes were watching her; if she stumbled, people would gather around to share the news, loudly announcing to the entire fan community: Tong—Zhao—has—fallen!

After a day of noise, no serious figure had stepped up to speak out.

That made sense, though; during auditions, there were too many voices. When it came time to decide who would play the lead role, it was a discussion between higher-ups and investors, and irrelevant people couldn’t possibly hear it.

Wei Zekai was furious and wanted to post on Weibo to throw down the gauntlet.

Wasn’t it just arguing?

Although he wasn’t good at being sarcastic, he was still a seasoned gamer from Zu’an, capable of handling pressure and taking the blame like a veteran!

Tong Zhao stopped him: “If you step out, people really won’t care about my audition anymore; they’ll just think I’ve been officially announced.”

Wei Zekai didn’t understand: “Isn’t an official announcement a good thing? Didn’t Director Shi book you?”

“It’s not about the movie announcement,”

Tong Zhao sighed: “It’s about our relationship being announced.”

This statement successfully stopped Wei Zekai’s impulsive behavior.

A day later, an entertainment news piece was released by Sina Entertainment.

“Tong Zhao Appears at Director Deng’s 60th Birthday Banquet”

Subsequently, many credible entertainment accounts released:

“Director Shi and Tong Zhao Enjoy a Happy Conversation? Mrs. Shi: A particularly spirited young girl.”

“Tong Zhao’s simple yet elegant appearance stuns everyone; Director Shi clarifies the rumors.”

“Official Announcement of the Female Lead in ‘The Knives of the Maiden’!”

The agent, who had been holding in a surge of anger, especially used her connections this time to ensure a photographer at the event took a flattering picture of Tong Zhao—this was incredibly easy for reporters, as Tong Zhao was already a somewhat famous beauty in the industry with no bad angles. It would take a lot of effort and skill to get a bad photo of her; they would need to amp up their techniques to get even an average shot.

In short, each piece of news was tacitly accompanied by a photo of Tong Zhao sitting next to the old director and his wife, surrounded by her senior brothers and sisters. She wore an elegant gray gown adorned with eagle feathers, her long hair styled up, revealing her graceful swan neck and beautifully defined shoulders…

Sister Chu put in a lot of effort; she certainly wouldn’t let her agent’s hard work go to waste.

Throughout the event, Tong Zhao exuded the aura of a regal beauty, successfully capturing a multitude of camera shots.

Once the news broke…

It was as if the haters who had been shouting, “Can you beat my 17 cards?” were suddenly swept away by a massive bomb and a plane, all accompanied by joyful sounds of a suona!